I am the dead girl whose locker you spat on somewhere between recess and lunch.
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I realized that maybe my Daddy hadn’t wanted to be a Daddy, that maybe my Mama didn’t want to be a drunk little lady, that Kira maybe wasn’t who she wanted to be.
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We, too, are tourists, but looking for a different kind of monument, a different souvenir. In truth, we do not know for what we are searching.
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I even started setting my clocks a few minutes early on auspicious days, as if I could outwit time itself.
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In the museum, Ward fumbled underneath the ticket counter and a moment later, a flashlight illuminated shadow boxes draped by black curtains and the tiny white wax faces inside. We tiptoed further; the museum was cool and musty. I felt like I was walking into a house while someone was sleeping, or trespassing on something hidden.
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Over the years, folklore has kept potential buyers of the mansion at bay.
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“Actually, the problem is there’s some kind of disconnect. Between the people who value Fook’s ukulele playing, and the people who have disposable income to dish out.”
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He’d suspected his dad was involved in secret government work, but now that he actually knew the truth he would have to be careful never to say a word to anyone, never to slip up.
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