The shining tip of a switchblade springs forth in Imogene’s hand, and half the remaining group ducks for cover behind their flimsy folding chairs. The other half looks on in stunned silence.
The sounds of Robin’s desperate scribbling punctuate what would otherwise be a tense silence.
Imogene, whose youthful face is screwed up into a frown, stoops down and begins to rummage through the backpack at her feet.
You shudder to think what else she might have in there, so you leap into action. Unlike the striking ninja you always longed to be, your attack more closely resembles a drunken fool trying to defend their mother’s honor following an ill-advised battle of wits. With arms and legs flailing, you still manage to knock a startled Imogene to the ground.
“What are you doing?” she demands in a shrill voice.
You’re so stunned by her reaction that you can’t form words.
From the depths of her backpack, Imogene brandishes a small tin of what looks like . . . brownies. “I was going to share some with the group,” she explains. “Everyone seemed tense. I thought some of my special brownies could mellow things out.”
You sigh as you struggle to pull yourself upright. Unfortunately, your dignity is still on the floor. You really should have listened to your mother and been a lawyer.