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duck, duck, Granny today, children.
    “Will you look at the time? We finished our art project just in time for the paint to dry.”
    This was by far the part of the day I hated most, though I had to admit Granny had the routine down pat. That slightly harried, loving-grandmother accent, full of sugar and spice. Most of the parents fell right into her trap, wanting so bad to believe they could get down-home love for their kids at Granny's quantity-over-quality prices.
    But Carly Mae's mother wasn't one of them.
    “Cut the bull, Granny,” she said as she walked into the room. “Let's see your hands, kids.”
    The crumb snatchers dutifully held out their hands.
    “Just like I thought. Not a drop of paint. Not even under the fingernails.” Carly Mae's mom squeezed Hammer Head's hands before she dropped them. She was one of the few people he would let touch him. Old Hammer Head had a soft spot for Wanda.
    She took the painting in Carly Mae's hand and shoved it back at Granny.
    “Keep it,” she said. Then she took hold of the fist Carly Mae didn't have shoved in her mouth and scooped up her daughter's precious teddy bear, Oswald.
    “And next time, try a little harder,” she called before slamming the door.
    Sink and Dip cringed again, but Granny wasn't troubled. Wanda might take Carly Mae out of Granny's Lap as soon as she moved up a pay grade, but there were more where Carly Mae came from. Always more.
    Granny ordered Dip to microwave the apple cider spices. Sink combed the kids' hair.
    “Now, what did we do today?” Granny quizzed them.
    “Uhhh, finger playth?” asked Wolf Man.
    “Dress up?” Beanie said, catching on quick. Granny rewarded her with a tight-lipped smile.
    “Baked bread,” Hammer Head said, smiling up at Granny.
    She looked at him with suspicion.
    “With a nail file in it.”
    Way to go, Hammer Head
, I cheered him silently. If anyone could lead the prison break, it would be Hammer Head. When the day came, he was my right-hand dog.
    There's a saying about how you grow old quickly in the joint. Though he was only five, Hammer Head was double that age on account of the things he'd seen and done. Not that he let on about it. His face was what showed the score.
    All in all, they made good cons, I thought proudly. They lined up carefully for R & D. They knew how to grease a deal.
    And every single one of them had their fingers crossed behind their backs.
    They understood about the mask.
    “Don't forget story time,” I said, speaking up for the first time. “And little Red and Granny and all the wonderful things Granny has stored under the sink.”
    We locked eyes, Granny and me. For the second time that day, I used my look that said,
    Somewhere, somehow, when you least expect it, I will exact my punishment.
    But Granny was a hog, not at all like Ms. Lanier or Violet. Granny didn't look away. Her upper lip stayed dry as toast.
    One by one, I watched them go, until all the crumb snatchers were accounted for. Wolf Man's mom showed up at last.
    “Knock, knock,” she said timidly. He dropped rank and threw himself into her arms.
    “Now, I don't want anyone to hold supper on account of me,” I said to Sink and Dip, breezing past them on my way to the door. The first shift was safe for another day, and the third shift didn't come on until eleven. For the next six hours, I was on home release.

Chapter 6
    At this point in the story, you may have questions. You may wonder things, things like, just where is my mom? How come I know so much about the joint when I've never done time? Why don't I report Granny to some kind and caring social worker and just be done with her? Here's your next rule, Fish. Don't get personal.
    If a conette wants you to know something, she'll tell you. Otherwise, leave it alone. Don't look at her personals unless she invites you. That's right. Don't pick up a photograph, don't touch a letter, don't ask about her mother or her boyfriend, don't even look her in the eye unless you