Emmitt’s arms remained folded, lips pouted once more.
“Thank you. Anyway. I say this because of the stories we used to read. It’s been fun trading books with you throughout the months before they became a form of payment,” Emmitt said solemnly. “My favorite book is Amelia’s Prom. The world there seemed so much fun: teens attending a school where they learn different subjects. Amelia learning to drive a car and hanging out at ice cream shops—getting a part-time job. And then, the best thing at the end. Dressing fancy and going to a dance with all your friends.”
