I thought I was supposed to be playing.
I think I heard my mother swear.
Why did we decide—both of us—to arrive in New York City in suits and ties?
How’s that for luck?
“How did you get in there?”
The rich are different.
I sat there and got busy with my cookie. Nobody was going to explain to me, and I was worn out with today’s guessing games.
Clothes “make the man” in unexpected ways.
Maybe I could start over if I changed my name?
You can see why telling my mother wasn’t a good idea.
What was I thinking?
Vacation. It wasn’t like it used to be.
I remember the first week of school, and how put off I was ever wanting to learn.
It’s dangerous falling in love for the first time.
Maybe I thought my brother could do magic—but, if he could, I could too.
I love vacations but it’s a relief when you give up and get to go home.