I rolled my eyes behind unwilling negotiation and cut a deal. If he read the first three books sent by his mother, which would only take a Saturday afternoon, he would read one of my choices next. The boy complied, and for the time I was sated. As the first Saturday afternoon approached evening, I viciously chewed my fingernails with anticipation. Sunday he could take A Wrinkle in Time, a bottle of water, march out to the treehouse and prepare to have his mind blown.