Arthur told me that I look like mom did when she was my age. I guess mom chose to believe him when he told her that they had gone to high school together back in the day, but I still didn’t. I was still on our Plan A, and sweaty old Arthur’s past didn’t figure into it. His future sure didn’t. Neither did whether or not I believed him. Mom had been choosing to believe like that ever since I was a kid, ever since we left dad chained to the radiator, screaming himself hoarse. She needs people more than I do.