“Steven, I look like a raccoon.You do NOT look like a raccoon.Actually, he looked like some deranged anteater, but I didn’t figure that would be the thing to tell him.Yes, I do. Oh, no. What if I stay this way forever?You’re not going to stay that way forever, Jeffy. People get black eyes all the time. If they never got better, the streets would be crowded with raccoon people. Soon the raccoon people would find each other and breed.I was on a roll here.The preschools would fill up with strange ring-eyed children. Soon the raccoons would be taking over our streets, stealing from our garbage cans, leaving eerie tails of Dinty Moore beef stew cams in their wakes. Gangs of them would haunt the malls, buying up all the black-and-gray-striped sportswear. THE RIVERS WOULD RISE! THE VALLEYS WOULD RUN WITH…Steven you’re joking, right?”

“Take care, Jeffy. I’ll see you soon, right? Just remember not to throw food at the nurses. I don’t want to get any complaint calls, OK?Steven, I don’t throw food at…oh, that was a joke, right?Yup, buddy boy. It was a joke. But seriously, no kissing the nurses on the lips, either. It messes up their makeup.Eeeeeeewwwww!”

“It wasn’t a bluff; I heard it in his voice. He would do it. He would walk away. “You would leave all these people, all the bowing, and the . . .” His gray eyes looked into mine. “If I fought for them and was crippled, they would all say nice things, and then they would replace me and forget I was ever there. You would stay with me. You would take care of me, because you love me. I love you too, Kate. If you ever became hurt, I would not leave you. I’ll be there. Wherever you want ‘there’ to be.”

“Steven, I know I phrased that as a question, but it was really a command.Yes, but mine is…ummm…private.Private, Steven?Yes, Miss Palma.PRIVATE Steven?Again with the capital letters?”

“I acted tough, but inside I wasn’t. I felt like a melty Rolo center, real mushy. The truth was that if White Bird didn’t want to see me that would hurt way too bad. Seeing his eyes filled with anger or hate or indifference would kill me. I figured leaving the next step to him was the only way to protect my heart.”

“The only time I can ever remember Steven crying over any of it was after my treatment, when I tried to use my foot on his bass drum pedal, and we realized I could never play a drum set.”

“I seriously think I could have sat in the middle of the kitchen floor rubbing two sticks together over a pile of dynamite blocks and gasoline cans, and my parents would be oblivious, as long as I was keeping myself occupied.”