Mouth in gear, brain stuck in neutral.

... he trotted down the hallway on all fours and started in on his second favorite pastime, conversations with plumbing. Just what I needed: Stone, the Toilet Whisperer.

I doubt she likes the idea of seeing him put back in a cage.” “Maybe not,” he said. “But she knows that the Authority are the only people who might be able to help him.” “Or kill him,” I said. “That too. What is life without risk?” “Long?” Terric laughed, a sort of high whooping that made me—and Zayvion, much to my surprise—smile. Contagious. For all he had a serious exterior, Terric was the guy you’d want to sit next to at a funny movie, just to hear him laugh.

I think you’re possessed.” “Old news.” “Huh. Anyone I know?” “My dad. It’s a family issue I’m working on.

Maybe in the morning, sunlight would to turn him back into a statue; then I could take Stone out to the forest where he could frolic among the ferns, gurgle at streams, and make friends with the other interesting rocks.

For a brief, weird minute I felt like Dorothy in Oz, walking down the street with Terric the doubtful, Shame the brainless, and heartless Zay.

I needed sleep. Big squishy bunches of it. Soon.