
by Madeline
McEwen-Asker
How could Brittany be pregnant when she was only seventeen years old? Technically Brad knew the answer to his own question, but as Brittany’s adopted Dad he didn’t want to know. He couldn’t face the “conversation,” a minefield of unexploded bombs.

by
by Madeline McEwen-Asker
My mom radiated anticipation, like a carthorse promoted to the racetrack, but we were at the mall. She was the only die-hard monarchist I’d ever known in my nine short years, but this apple fell from the tree and bounced into the American republic.

by
by Madeline McEwen-Asker
Mungo Mortenstow noticed a hand-made costume hanging on his bedroom door when he arrived home from middle school.
“Surprise!” Mom said shooting out of the bathroom like a catapult. “Do you like it? You do like it, don’t you, Mungo?”