But Karen had really gotten it bad. A recessive genetic inheritance, a glitch in the production of melanin, was responsible for Karen’s white, frizzy hair, the light, freckled skin, the colorless eyelashes and eyebrows and the light blue eyes. In politically correct terminology Karen was said to have albinism, but that didn’t help her maintain a healthy self-esteem. Her mother and her older brother were dark-skinned and beautiful. At least in Karen’s eyes. Everyone else was beautiful, and she looked like a dinner roll that you’d find under a dumpster. Karen had come to terms with being an outsider. At least come to terms with it as well as a young, nearly pubescent kid who’s reviled by nearly everyone as extraordinarily hideous can come to terms with it. Reviled by toothless old fat-sacks, by cockeyed foul-smelling women with lopsided heads and by pimply, reeking boys. Karen was the kid who stood alone in the corner during recess. She was the kid smaller kids stared at and adults made comments about. She was the kid with a dysfunctional relationship with her brothers. Even her little brother despised Karen, which was amazing since he had Hutchinson-Gilford syndrome. If anyone knew what that was, it was only by the name progeria. Most people just called her little brother “alien,” and though he should have been a tiny, needy person he somehow was a malicious little asshole. Genetically speaking, something had gone wrong in Karen’s family. In an English social drama, the cursed little family could have been a haven of warmth, humor, and love. But unfortunately they were just people who happened to live in a social housing unit together and got on each other’s nerves. Or beat each other up, like on the day Karen came home from the hospital after the incident, disappeared into her room and then at some point needed to go to the bathroom. Her brothers had partied the night before, meaning hanging out on the street partaking of a mix of drugs and alcohol. Then the little brother would probably be pushed down the baby slide or used as a human shot put. Fun into the wee hours, at least to judge by the babbling voices from the living room.