"It's acknowledged," Melissa snapped, winking at a passing kindergartner. "Now it's eaten."

Jacob, now covered in marinara, tried to extinguish the smoke with a copy of The Winter’s Tale . "It's thematically appropriate!" he yelled.

Barbara Howard, the queen of grace, had prepared a subdued, elegant presentation on the historical roots of caroling. Her room smelled of cinnamon and quiet dignity. But when Superintendent Reynolds walked in, Ava appeared like a genie from a cheap, sequined lamp.

Ava shrugged, a slow grin spreading across her face. "Yeah, well, Barbara’s the backbone. I’m just the… sequins."