30.

Sister Maximillian and Sister P.V., along with Misty, Murray, and Grandma Pencil, sit at the dining room table. Bowls are passed, plates are loaded, glasses are filled. The record player in the living room offers Vangelis’s Chariots of Fire soundtrack at a volume not loud enough to interfere with the subdued conversation. To the untrained eye, the scene appears Rockwellian in its vision of domestic ease. Close scrutiny (and honesty), however, reveals that Misty’s complexion is too pale, even a bit on the green side. Her smiles are rote. Murray, too, doesn’t look comfortable, the way he gnaws a raw broccoli stalk and won’t let his eyes rest from their constant flicking around the room, never seeing the dinner guests.

Down the stairs come the children. Toby bears Audrey in his arms, newlywed-wife-over-the-threshold style. Her stumps are frilly-socked.

McKenna, lagging behind, wearing a tan, knee-length dress, carries the crutches—not by choice, but because she’s not strong enough to carry Audrey. She watches Toby reach the bottom of the steps, not so much admiring as marveling at the sculpted bulk of a preteen, the boy who used to be her twin. Toby’s brow is jutted, and his nostrils have flared so often they’ve become formidable holes. Vast disparities between the twins’ hands, legs, and thighs—every difference Toby had desired as he obsessively measured during that summer before kindergarten—all and more have come true.

And yet, he’s not happy. He’s gruff and aggressive toward family, friends, and strangers. This may be a result of his involvement with football and heavy metal. Or, it may be the reason for his involvement with football and heavy metal. The point is, the kid is a jerk. Just plain not nice. McKenna has long ago stopped trying to like Toby. And trying to understand Toby hasn’t led to any great revelations. As young kids, they shared an affinity for Mommy and an unspoken respect for Daddy. Now, Toby hates both parents. The only love he shows is a love of mocking their every decision, action, or utterance.

So Toby was a miserable teen. So what. Was McKenna happy? If Toby was too concerned with his weight, muscle mass, and size, then maybe McKenna wasn’t concerned enough. She knew she had a weight problem, a body problem. It didn’t make her feel good to be the skinniest girl in the seventh grade. Thinner than the sixth-graders. It didn’t make her feel good to hear the boys whisper “Skeletor.” It didn’t make her feel good to break a bone every six months (ankle, collarbone, forearm, other collarbone). It didn’t make her feel good to know that if the house was burning she wouldn’t be able to carry Audrey down the steps and out the front door.

McKenna was used to not feeling good, however. She’d not felt good her whole life. Why should now be any different? She only saw her dad twice a month. Her mom was a basket case. Her brother mocked her at every opportunity. Her Grandma appraised her scrawny arms like she wished she’d never been born. And the other day, while wrestling with Audrey, she’d bled into her panties. Her first period. McKenna wondered why it happened when she was wrestling Audrey, right as she pinned Audrey to the floor.

The incident kept her awake. She worried that she might be a pervert like Grandpa Ray.

But really, was life so terrible?

NO, NO, NO! Not with this beef stroganoff in her mouth. Not chewing the soft meat, savoring the tangy sauce. Swishing,swallowing. Feeling the burn at the back of her throat—such raw skin, such an overworked tube.

Upchucking. Chucking up.

Chewing again. Swallowi—

Upchucking. Chucking up.

Chewing. Swallo—

Upchucking. Chucking up.

“McKenna, you don’t like your Grandma’s cooking?”

Chewing. Swallowing.

“I do. She’s a great cook.”

“She’s a great cook what ?” Grandma Pencil says, fork pointing.

“She’s a great cook, Sister Maximillian,” McKenna says.

McKenna takes another bite. Her third bite.

“Maybe she’s just slow,” Sister P.V. says, mopping the last trace of gravy with a wedge of bread.

“No maybes about it,” Murray answers. He loads his mouth so he doesn’t have to say anything else.