“Maeve fans are dangerous. We learn how to wield pointy objects,” I told him as I handed him the bag. “You shouldn’t upset them.”

“I’ll take the risk. You’ll defend me, right?” He picked up my bow and I squeaked as he lost my page in the process. Oblivious to my pawing through the book to find where I had left off, he swung the bow around to check out the sight.

“I don’t know,” I said, trying to sound cute and not the least bit relieved about finding my page. “If someone shows up with a bigger bow, you’re on your own.” I gently pried the bow out of his hands.

He nearly choked on his soda. “Size-ist,” he managed between coughs and suppressed laughter.