“It shows initiative.”
That sums up Mason’s basic viewpoint on the treehouse. It’s somewhat more nuanced, perhaps a bit more conciliatory, but overall, his indignation about Lark’s and Chloe’s building a treehouse without help or permission is trumped by his admiration.
Levi is amused that Eve and Mason and I are having a kerfuffle over what he views as a trivial thing. But it’s not his beautiful horizontal branch that’s in danger of being snapped. It’s not his household that would be better off free of tweens Mondays through Fridays from eight until four. Levi roars away from the house in the pre-dawn to go be Mayor, and rarely does he returns until well after dark—in other words, what does he know.
Then there’s Eve. Good ol’ Eve, who does prefer the girls would leave the house and go to school. But when she says so, it has the wistful quality of someone who knows she’ll never get what she wants. Eve’s once steely resolve is now more like mercury. It bends, and it pools.
It can barely be called resolve at all.
Jill Riddell is a writer in Chicago. She teaches at the School of the Art Institute and has a weakness for nature, magic, and pennies abandoned in sidewalk cracks.