“The thing about them is they’re made to look like prisons.”
“Max,” said Sara, still raising her hand. “Have you ever even been to prison?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Then how do you know?”
“Well, my—”
Max was too embarrassed to finish the sentence, and Mr. P sensed it.
“Sara, please let’s save questions until after the presentation.”
Sara sort of rolled her eyes to the side, shrank in her seat and crossed her arms in defiance, but, of course, continued to listen.
The thing about walking James Street was that it always led him to Madison, which made him think of Maddie, even after everything.