Ethan's Puppet Show
Ethan, age 10, had been talking about it for weeks, tugging at his mother's sleeve every time they passed the Colorado public library's glass doors. His cardboard box of homemade puppets—lions whose manes were cut with kindergarten scissors, elephants whose trunks drooped with tired glue, and one proud owl with two different button eyes—was practically an extension of him. He carried it like a treasure chest. If anyone asked what was inside, he'd straighten up and say, "My cast." What he wanted more than anything was to put on a puppet show at the library. The library director, Penelope Hart, had worked at the library for twenty-six years. She'd arrived right out of library school, back when her hair was still dark brown and she kept it in a tight bun to look older and more authoritative. Now her hair was streaked with silver, and the bun had softened into a loose twist. Her reputation was that she ran the library with great respect for human dignity. She had ...