Joe Enza was a practical optimist. Not in the way other people defined the term as they met with life coaches and plastered their walls with motivational posters. No, he was truly practical. He made his clients look at the proverbial glass as not half-empty or even half-full, but a hundred percent full.
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“Yo, Enzo! Is it done yet?” The beleaguered customer yelled down through the grate. The man’s week-old musk permeated every inch of his grimy home—even saturating into the floorboards.
“It’s Enza,” Joe Enza whispered under his breath.
Everyone always confuses it. Joe screwed the cap back on the tritium diffuser as he squatted
Keep the clock running, Aria. Mother’s words spun through her head like the thick white snowflakes tumbling around her.
Aria Clockkeeper adjusted her grip on the icy key and fumbled with the lock on the clock tower door. Her huff of irritation froze in the air.
“Need help with that, Ari?” Will’s
I stared through the window from my perch on the eucalyptus tree. Tonight was the night. I crept down the trunk and froze as the lights flipped on inside the house. A human wandered into the room, holding a plate of delectable treats before him. Two smaller humans jumped and skipped around him
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Addie Thatcher was in the wrong place—according to old people, anyway.
They claimed that on Christmas Eve, every child should be asleep in their bed, but Addie found herself downstairs long before dawn. Giggling, she pointed her flashlight at the foot of the tree where an enormous gold-and-red package sat, screaming her name.
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