Sylo (The Sylo Chronicles)
““Not nots,” said Quinn impatiently. “Knots. With a k, like they put on the front of knife for some reason I never understood. You can tell a lot about people by the way they tie knots.”
“You are so odd.”
Quinn and I were taking a lunch break from work. It was Saturday morning, the day after the game. Saturday was the day that football players rested up and healed. Most of them, anyway. I’d only been in the game for a total of five plays and didn’t need a whole lot of recovery. Any soreness I fe...lt wasn’t from football. It hurts to get thrown off your bike by a mysterious exploding shadow.
Working for my dad meant grunt work. We raked leaves and mowed grass and pulled weeds and did any number of other brainless tasks that weren’t exactly fun, but Dad paid us pretty well and it was work he didn’t have to do himself, so everybody won.
“It’s true, Tuck,” Quinn continued. “Observe.”
We were sitting on a bench in the town square drinking canned iced teas, trying to stay cool in the shade.MoreLess
“You are so odd.”
Quinn and I were taking a lunch break from work. It was Saturday morning, the day after the game. Saturday was the day that football players rested up and healed. Most of them, anyway. I’d only been in the game for a total of five plays and didn’t need a whole lot of recovery. Any soreness I fe...lt wasn’t from football. It hurts to get thrown off your bike by a mysterious exploding shadow.
Working for my dad meant grunt work. We raked leaves and mowed grass and pulled weeds and did any number of other brainless tasks that weren’t exactly fun, but Dad paid us pretty well and it was work he didn’t have to do himself, so everybody won.
“It’s true, Tuck,” Quinn continued. “Observe.”
We were sitting on a bench in the town square drinking canned iced teas, trying to stay cool in the shade.MoreLess
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