Topher, a wicked gleam in his eye, said, “What’s in your backpack, Marvin?”
The table hushed. The contents of Marvin Grimm’s backpack were the subject of wild, and often ludicrous, speculation. Marvin shrugged and shoved a small stack of pancakes into his face. Topher pressed on.
“I like to imagine it is your storage container for hacked up limbs, all wrapped in cheesecloth.”
Marvin shoveled a mound of beans into his face.
“How would you like to find out?”
“Yes, Topher,” Zorn said. “How would you like to find out?”
An apple struck Marvin directly in the forehead and he didn’t bat an eyelash. It fell into his lap, defeated and embarrassed. When he was done with the pancakes, he started in on entire second breakfast that he’d hidden underneath: bacon, eggs, steak. He devoured this in m
