He was tall, taller than most boys in the school, with thick hair a bit lighter than mine, and piercing blue eyes in a sculpted face. He hadn’t been...to any of the parties I had, not in any of my classes, but as soon as I saw him my heart skipped a beat. I stared at him as he walked by, and he glanced at me as he passed. He hesitated, almost stopped but kept walking. I noticed him glancing back once or twice. My eyes never left him. “Alex? Alex, pay attention! Are you listening?” I snapped back. If she hadn’t had three older siblings surreptitiously feeding her morsels of perspective over the years, she might well have accepted her father John Aleister Davenport III’s weltanschauung as the way the world was. Or she might have emulated her oldest brother Whittaker and battled with her father throughout her teen years before telling him to get stuffed. Instead, she’d internalized and in her own imagination perfected the strategy her older siblings had gradually improved over time -. More

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