. . .

“I don’t know why I’d deny it,” Linus says. He glares right at Maria. “Fine. Is that what it takes to scare you? I’m wickedness itself, you b—. I’m evil. I’m the doom of your little world. I am Linus Friedman Evans, herald of the end, so give me your best shot, you filthy alien nanny —”

He stands up straighter. He glares at her. He turns his head very far to the left and then very far to the right because he’s never actually learned how to spin it all the way around no matter how intimidating it would, under the circumstances, be.

“But don’t you dare lay a single finger on my friends.”

“Oi!” says Jane.

She is glaring at Linus. Edmund is glaring at Linus. But it’s Tom who acts.

Tom has walked out into the room. He is stomping right past Maria. He shoves the gunbrella barrel out of the way as he walks past, because he remembers that it has a two-shot charge. He stands right in front of Linus.

He looks his little brother in the eyes for a moment. He takes two fistfuls of Linus’ collar.

“You never,” says Tom. “You don’t ever, you little snot.”

“What?” Linus says.

Then Tom lets go.

“You be Linus.”

“. . . oh,” says Linus.

He deflates.

<< . . .

. . . >>