“Mr Randell, you’ve been warned before about public displays of affection,” said Mrs Crocker. “I’m giving you a one hour detention starting ...ow. Please go and wait outside my office while I think of something suitably demeaning for you to do.”An hour’s detention meant I wouldn’t be able to take the minibus so I’d miss the race. “But...” I started to protest.“If you object, I’ll double it,” threatened Mrs Crocker.I looked at Eugenie. Why wasn’t she saying anything on my behalf? After all, she. Legal, because they weren’t selling guns — just kits.Ghost guns, like bump stocks, were pretty much a dead end. For me at least.I needed serial numbers. Real ones, accurate ones.Vanessa and I were sipping wine, lazily looking out our Main Street windows. Holding hands, Leon Redbone instrumentals in the background.Pilar came in and sat beside me, took a sip of wine. She spoke casually — she hadn’t yet learned that that’s a tell. She was concerned about something.Vanessa smiled, “How you doing,. More

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