“You’re joking.” I pulled the black vest out of the package, letting it dangle from my fingers like a dirty piece of laundry.
Rhys sipped his coffee and didn’t look up from his newspaper. “I don’t joke about safety.”
“This is a bulletproof vest.”
“I’m aware. I bought it.”
Inhale. Exhale. “Mr. Larsen, please explain why I need a bulletproof vest. Where am I supposed to wear it, class? My next volunteer shift?”