Chapter One: Tom
Still no answer.
"Oh, shit," said Aunt Polly. "Where in the world can that boy be this time, I wonder?"
That boy, Tom Sawyer, was lounging in an armchair up front in the parlor in his new Armani cashmere sport jacket, complacently calculating the overnight appreciation of his stock and bond holdings as he waited for four of his friends to come by in the leased stretch limousine with insolent smoked windows to take them all to the luxury box in the stadium for the big game -- football or basketball, he had forgotten which, perhaps a prizefight. It did not matter to...