“What?”

“KISS. KISS makeup.”

“Oh.” Is that what Natasha meant? “Are they metal?”

Mom and Dad laugh because it’s funny, the way she asked it.

The phone stops ringing.

“Naw, I wouldn’t say that,” Dad says. “But I guess some people would. They wore makeup, yeah.”

“They were called Kiss?”

“KISS. Yeah. You don’t know them? That makes me feel old.”

“They’re before our time too,” Mom says. “Why do you ask, Kit?”

Kit should’ve been expecting this follow-up, but she wasn’t. She was thinking of what Natasha said.

She wears KISS makeup, but not like a star man or a cat or anything…it’s all eyes and long tongues. Her whole face. I’m not even sure it’s makeup.

“Kit?”

“Oh…I…Natasha was talking about that band, I guess. I didn’t realize that’s what she was saying.”

Dad looks out the kitchen, to the living room where the vinyl collection is.

“I don’t think we have any of theirs.”

“We don’t,” Mom says. “And thank God for that.”

“Are they bad?” Kit asks. But she doesn’t mean to ask if they’re not any good; she means to ask if they’re evil.

It’s like an earworm, she thinks. The way this name is rolling about her mind.

“I mean, no,” Dad says. “I wouldn’t say bad. They’re just not…”

“They’re whatever,” Mom says. “They’re no Iron Maiden, if that’s what you mean.”

Dad winks at Mom.

“But people liked them?”

“They still do,” Mom says.

“Metal people?”

Again, Mom and Dad laugh. What a silly way to ask it.

“You wanna hear some KISS?” Dad asks. “Let’s look ’em up on—”

Mom’s phone rings again. She groans and gets up from the table.

Dad says, “We’ll look up some of their songs. They could be your favorite band of all time, just waiting to happen.”

KISS makeup. All eyes and long tongues.

Kit imagines a tall figure outside the front door. Someone that would have to duck to enter.

“Look,” Dad says. He’s holding his phone for Kit to see. It’s not what she expected. All black-and-white makeup mostly. They look like they’re part of a musical. A Broadway show.

“I don’t understand,” Mom says into the phone.

The way she says it, Dad and Kit shut up and turn to her. Mom doesn’t do drama. Evelyn Lamb is always Evelyn Lamb. Something’s wrong on the phone.

“Okay,” she says. “But…how is this possible?”

Her voice is level. Too level.

Dad and Kit wait. Mom turns to them. No, not them, just Kit. The phone to her ear, she looks concerned. It’s not good. Whoever’s talking, whatever they’re saying, it has something to do with Kit. Kit doesn’t even consider she might’ve been “caught” doing anything because she doesn’t do anything to get caught at. Even if she took a hit off a joint with the boys’ team, her parents wouldn’t be angry. They’d tell her to make sure it was safe.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

But Mom’s still listening.

“Okay,” she says. “Yes. Thank you. I just…Okay.”