Name Games Read Online Free PDF

When are auditions?”
    Neil asked, “What’s the play?”
    Thad’s head wagged between us as we questioned him. With a half-laugh, he told us, “I’m not sure. But I’ll ask around.”
    I suggested, “Your English teacher should know all about it.”
    “I’ll ask,” he repeated, signaling that we shouldn’t push further, not today. He got up from the table, crossed to the refrigerator, and poured himself another glass of milk. Before returning, he offered, “More coffee?”
    “Sure,” we answered. “Thanks.”
    As Thad poured Neil’s coffee, he looked over Neil’s shoulder at the “Trends” section, which displayed another feature by Glee Savage. Headlined THE KING HAS ARRIVED, it detailed our visit to Grace Lord the previous morning, when Glee and I had met Carrol Cantrell, the king of miniatures. Skimming the story, Thad nearly spilled the coffee. “Oops. Sorry.” He set the pot on the table. “These people sound a little weird.”
    Though I agreed with his assessment, I explained diplomatically, “Let’s just say they have a somewhat eccentric obsession.” I grinned, reaching for the coffee.
    “Not at all,” said Neil, putting down the paper. His reproachful tone conveyed surprise at my attitude. “The art of model-making has an illustrious history that’s long been intertwined with my own field. Miniatures have always played a role in the design of big architectural projects. I’ve built a few models myself and have nothing but respect for the true masters of the craft.”
    Neil stood to continue—he was on a roll now. “Consider the Thorne Rooms at the Art Institute of Chicago. Commissioned by Mrs. James Ward Thorne and built by the master miniaturist Eugene Kupjack, mostly in the 1930s, that series of sixty-eight shadow boxes traces four centuries of European and American interior design—all in the space of a darkened hallway. They’re magnificent.”
    “They are,” I agreed. I’d forgotten about the Thorne Rooms, but as soon as Neil mentioned them, I recalled being awed by them as a child. I told Thad, “Sometime soon, let’s spend a weekend down at our loft in the city. We’ll take you to the Art Institute, and you can see the Thorne Rooms for yourself—they’re really worth the visit.”
    “Cool.” His tone was flat, not quite enthusiastic, but at least he didn’t react with that dreaded adolescent smirk. He was making a genuine effort to show some interest in our shared lives. While I assumed he had little interest in the Thorne Rooms, I knew that he’d enjoy a trip to the city on any pretext.
    I reminded Neil, “That display represents the height of the craft. Somehow, I doubt if Grace Lord’s roombox competition will be in the same league.”
    He laughed while crossing to the sink with his cup and a plate of crumbs. “Don’t be so sure. With both Carrol Cantrell and Bruno Hérisson here, the stakes have been raised considerably.”
    I noticed that Neil had pronounced Hérisson flawlessly. “You’ve heard of these guys?”
    “They’re…‘names’ to me.” He sloshed the remainder of his coffee down the sink and opened the dishwasher, depositing the cup and the plate. Thad brought his own dishes over and added them to the load.
    Checking my watch, I downed my coffee. “Looks like Doug isn’t joining us.”
    Thad wondered, “Where is Sheriff Pierce? He hasn’t missed breakfast all week.” Then he grabbed his pile of books from the counter. “I’ve gotta go—need to review an assignment before class.” He gave each of us a shoulder hug. “Bye, guys. See you tonight.”
    We wished him a good day at school and watched as he bounded out the back door. I was about to mention to Neil that I was beginning to feel content in our new, offbeat role as parents when the thought was interrupted by Thad’s voice. “Morning, Sheriff,” he said from the driveway. “They’re waiting for you.”
    And moments later, Doug Pierce rapped on the screen door. “Any