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was growing larger every day. Not only did Pat never throw out garbage—electing instead to let food wrappers, papers, and junk fall to the floor—but he also never opened mail. After all, the only mail that came to the store was junk and bills, and since Pat never paid bills, he saw no reason to look at them.
    One letter, however, caught Kai’s eye. It was addressed to a Mr. Pat Garrison and had a cancelled stamp instead of the usual red postal machine mark that was the sign of junk mail and bills. Kai slid it out from the pile of unopened envelopes and took a closer look. The return address was EBF Realty, 467 Seaside Highway, Sun Haven, and it looked both personal and official. Kai tore it open.
    DEAR MR. GARRISON ,
    IT HAS COME TO OUR ATTENTION THAT YOU AND YOUR SONS ARE LIVING FULL TIME IN THE STOREFRONT PREMISES WE HAVE LEASED TO YOU AT 3 EAST STREET , SUN HAVEN. PLEASE NOTE THAT SUCH INHABITATION IS A VIOLATION OF YOUR LEASE AGREEMENT. WE REQUEST THAT YOU FIND APPROPRIATE LIVING ARRANGEMENTS IMMEDIATELY. FAILURE TO DO SO WILL CONSTITUTE A VIOLATION OF YOUR LEASE AGREEMENT AND WILL RESULT IN EVICTION AND FORFEITURE OF YOUR SECURITY DEPOSIT.
    SINCERELY ,
    EBF REALTY
    The back door opened and Pat came back in. “Got those blanks?”
    â€œNo,” said Kai.
    â€œWhat the hell?”
    â€œI’m not helping you rip people off,” Kai said.
    â€œDamn you.” His father scooped the credit card off the table and started running blanks from it in the credit card machine.
    â€œYou might be interested in this.” Kai held up the envelope.
    â€œWhat is it?” Pat asked.
    â€œLetter from your landlord saying they know we’re living here and if we don’t move out they’re going to evict us and keep the security deposit.”
    â€œScrew ’em,” Pat said.
    â€œThis letter was dated almost two weeks ago,” Kai said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you hear from them again soon.”
    His father shrugged as if he didn’t care. He finished running the credit card blanks, and headed out to the front. Kai followed him, curious to see who was getting scammed this time.
    Out in the store a Japanese man, his wife, and two children were all having custom T-shirts made that said, “We’ve been to Sun Haven” on the front and had one of the nicer and more overpriced, colorful transfers of a sunset on the back.
    â€œHere you go, Mr. Asoki.” Pat handed the credit card back to the man. “I’ve taken care of the credit verification. Before I forget, do you want color guard on these shirts?”
    Kai glanced over Pat’s shoulder at a pad on the counter on which his father had written “$260.” Kai quickly did the math. Two hundred and sixty dollars for four T-shirts came to sixty-five dollars a shirt. That was close to a new record. The Alien Frog Beast must have been in heaven.
    â€œWhat is color guard?” Mr. Asoki asked.
    Pat pointed at the colorful sunsets on the backs of the shirts. “So when you wash these clothes, the colors don’t run.”
    â€œRun?” Mr. Asoki scowled.
    â€œCome off.” Pat gestured. “So the colors don’t get on the other clothes in the wash.”
    â€œAh.” Mr. Asoki nodded and spoke to his wife in Japanese, then turned back to Pat. “How much is color guard?”
    â€œUsually ten dollars per shirt, but since you’re buying four, I’ll do them all for thirty dollars. Of course, it’ll have to be cash since I already put the charge through on your credit card.”
    â€œVery good,” said Mr. Asoki.
    Kais calculation had just increased the total charge to two hundred and ninety dollars. That plus the tax, which Pat charged but never filed with the state, put the total bill over three hundred dollars. Slightly more than seventy-five dollars a shirt. Definitely a new record.
    Pat handed the T-shirts to Kai. “Color guard.”
    Kai