“He overthrew the government of the African Nation Burkina Faso in the eighties and promoted women’s rights and launched a vaccination program to eradicate polio.” The Kid frowned. “Granted, he had his faults, like when he fired a couple of thousand teachers when they went on strike—”

“I don’t like him already.”

“—but he was still pretty awesome.”

“What happened to him?” Otter asked, because he couldn’t not.

The Kid waved a hand at him. “He was killed in a coup organized by his closest ally. Them’s the breaks, I suppose. I assume being a dictator is hard.”

“How did we get to talking about this?” I asked, staring up at the ceiling.

“We don’t ask that question anymore,” Otter reminded me. “Remember? Because it makes us sad.”

I sighed. “Right. Dammit. I’m a little sad now.”

The Kid scowled at us. “Okay, so you know when I call for a meeting and then you two do that thing where you banter back and forth and you’re in love and gross and nobody wants to see that?”

“Sea Monkeys,” Otter said. “We were talking about Sea Monkeys.”

“You weren’t supposed to think about how we got here,” I hissed at him.

“That’s the day I learned about the dark side of big business,” the Kid said solemnly. “That they could sell you lies and keep your hard-earned five dollars.”

“My hard-earned five dollars,” Otter said.

“Um, wow. Way to make it all about you, Otter. Thanks. Like finding out I’d ordered nothing but brine shrimp and that they wouldn’t wear fancy little suits and dresses and make dinners in a brightly colored castle wasn’t devastating enough.”

“Hey! That’s not—”

“Anyway, I had a reason for being here, but Otter—as usual—is attempting to distract us from the matters at hand.”

“That’s rude,” I told Otter, in case he didn’t know.

Otter looked grumpy at that. It didn’t help his case, whatever it was. “See if I ever give you five dollars again.”

“Oh man,” the Kid said, smacking his head. “I forgot to tell you guys. I had to have Corey spot me lunch yesterday because I forgot my wallet at home. All I have is my card too. Do you have any cash I can give him? I feel bad.”

“Sure,” Otter said, reaching for his wallet. “How much was it?”

“Five bucks.”

Otter started digging through the bills. Then, “You son of a bitch.”

“Dammit.”

“Should have waited a few more minutes,” I said. “Would have worked. He’s forty now. And you know they say the mind is the first thing to go.”

The Kid squinted at me. “Like you have any room to talk.”

“Worst meeting ever,” I muttered.

“We’ve only been here for eight minutes, and I already don’t like either of you,” Otter said. “That has to be a new record.”