Advance Reading Copy
15 8
t e n
Dallas invents history and communications projects that
require extensive teamwork. He comes over almost every
night, giddier each time. The stress of living as a zombie
under constant surveillance is wearing him down.
On Friday he helps me set up my art tent in the living
room. It’s like a small canvas building, ten by ten and six feet
high. It has no floor—it’s last-century war surplus—so we put
it over the couch. It’s stiffer and heavier and more compli-
cated than I’d expected. We’re swearing our asses off by the
time we straighten it out.
“This is a huge tent,” he says. “You haven’t got much
living room left. Are you sure your mom won’t mind?”
“Nah. She never sits in here. I’ll lay down sheets before
I paint.”
We tie back the flaps and sit inside. It smells like a moldy
basement. The stained plastic windows barely let in any light.
