My father has a way of persuading people without charm that has always confused me. He states his opinions as if they’re facts, and somehow his complete lack of doubt makes you believe him. That quality frightens me now, because I know what he told me: that I was broken, that I was worthless, that I was nothing. How many of those things did he make me believe?

For someone so small, you're heavy, Stiff," he mutters.

We kiss again and this time, it feels familiar. I know exactly how we fit together, his arm around my waist, my hands on his chest, the pressure of his lips on mine. We have each other memorized.

"I'll be your family now," he says.

If you see someone in trouble, you should help them. Experiment or not.

I'm going to stop a revolution,'' I say. I turn right, and Peter follows me.

What?" I ask. "I'm developing a theory." "And it is?" She picks up her hamburger, grins, and says, "That you have a death wish.