“It might,” Rina said. “But even God judges us for our present actions only and not on what He knows we’ll do in the future. How can we mortals do anything less?”

“That’s a nice little speech, but we mortals have to use the past to judge the future because we’re not God.” He shook his head. “What kind of a teenager doesn’t want to live with his young irresponsible aunt who parties and dopes?”

“A kid too mature for his age.”

HE SAT ON one of the twin beds, his backpack at his feet, staring at nothing while other people talked about his fate. A position he had been in umpteen times before. The room was filled with athletic trophies, paperback books, comic books, CDs, and DVDs, mostly from the nineties. There were posters of Michael Jordan and Michael Jackson, one of Kobe Bryant when he was about seventeen years old. The CDs included Green Day, Soundgarden, and Pearl Jam.

An utterly normal room in an utterly normal house with an utterly normal family.

What he would give to live an utterly normal life.

He was tired of dealing with a psycho for a father, a totally unpredictable maniac with a violent temper. He was sick of having a psychologically beaten-down mother—recently a physically beaten mother. He feared his dad, he loved his mom, but he was sick to death of both of them. And although he was sincerely passionate about his music and the piano, he detested growing up a prodigy. It drove him to do more and more and more and more.

All he wanted was to be fucking normal. Was that so hard of a wish to grant?

He heard the knock on the door and wiped his eyes. He looked in the mirror and noticed they were red-rimmed. Fucking-A great! The girl probably thought he was a real wuss.

Mom, where the fuck are you? Chris, what the fuck did you do with Mom?

He answered the door. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She smiled. “You know if you want to hole up here for a few days, you’re more than welcome.”

“Yeah, your dad already told me that. Thanks. I really mean that.” He bit his lower lip. “I’m sure things will sort out by then. Tell your parents I won’t be any trouble.”

“I’m enough trouble for the both of us.” She smiled. “Hate to tell you this, bud, but my mom wants you to go to school with me.”

“School?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Right.” He laughed. What else was there to do? “Sure. Why not?”

“It’s a religious school.”

“What religion?”

“Jewish.”

“I’m Catholic.”

“It’s fine. You won’t have to do anything against your beliefs.”

“I have no beliefs except in the innate evil of human beings.” He looked at her. “Except your parents.”