JJ
A few days after Havoc’s sentencing, Millie came home from art class with a permission slip, a paint stain on her sleeve, and a very firm opinion about next Saturday.
“They’re painting a wall at the art center,” she announced, dropping the paper onto the kitchen table. “Not a whole building. Just one wall. And I already know what I’m putting on it.”
“Do I get to know?”
“A motorcycle with flowers coming out of the exhaust.”
From the stove, Nixx turned around. “That sounds mechanically concerning.”
“It’s art, Daddy Nixxy.”
Benny pulled out a chair. “Tell him again. He gets confused when things aren’t supposed to run.”
I read the form while the three of them debated whether a motorcycle could operate on flower power. The mural was a separate community project from Millie’s regular
