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She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. I hoped for a family like the Becks and I waded through the system until I got them, so maybe life isn’t so damn hopeless after all. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. “Happened! Oh, many things,” she declared indolently. It was years before your time. “I do not blame him. He smothered it down with such a good will that the reaction set his heart to pounding.
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