“I hate popular kids and I love Connie. I hate stupid questions and I love Pat. I hate bitches--” She started her mantra as I stood up and vaulted...her until she caught the dent. I set her foot on my shoulder and pushed up the other.“--and I love cheerleading! You’re supposed to be screaming!” She stomped my collar bone. I grinned.“I can show you the world ... Shining, shimmering, splendid. Tell me princess now when did you last let your heart decide...” It was the only song I knew where she. Now that’s reliable.And if you wanted greed, everyone knew there was one place to go: TheChinaman.The Chinaman, ironically, wasn’t Chinese at all. Or even Asian. He was probably the whitest old man I’d ever seen. He’d been a missionary in China when he was a very young man, and now, as a very old man, he was still remembered for that. Of course the missionary aspect was long gone. He was a fixer, a fence, and a broker of information.It was mid-morning by the time I’d gotten down to his. More

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