“No,” Mary says, suddenly stubborn. “I want to know what’s going on. You never tell me anything. I swear to God, it feels like the only thing we have in this family is secrets!” Now the anger is rising, along with the confusion. Carrie reaches for the plate, to make sure it doesn’t end up shattered on the floor.

Mary raises the plate in her hand, as if cornered. It looks like it’s about to get ugly when Danny speaks up.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Keene. I should have called. I really needed to speak to Carrie right away.”

Somehow, hearing his voice snaps Mary out of her fearful crouch. She turns and blinks, and a dim little sunbeam of recognition dawns in her eyes. “Oh, all right, Danny,” she says. “But make it fast, okay? Carrie has homework.”

She’s skipped around in time again. At least she knows it’s Danny, not Dan.

“Yes, ma’am, I sure will, ” Danny says, without a trace of sarcasm. Danny always did the best Eddie Haskell, Carrie remembers.

Mary goes back into the kitchen and returns to washing the dishes. Carrie watches her walk away, and turns back on Danny. “You here to offer your condolences?”

“No. I’m sorry. That’s not why I’m here.”

“I figured. What do you want?”

“We need to get Eric and Alana. The reunion is tomorrow. We don’t have much time to stop this.”

“You’re joking, right? No, of course you’re not. You never installed a sense of humor.”

“I know this is a bad time — ”

“You think? Wow, it’s like you’re a genius.”

He blinks once, like a computer registering input. Something finally occurs to him. “You’re angry.”

“My father was murdered, you cyborg. Normal people get upset by that.”

“Carrie, I know. I know how you feel.”

“Oh, you’re going to tell me about feelings? You? Please.”

“My father was murdered too. I know you remember.”

Touché. But screw him, her dad was killed yesterday. Her pain is first in line.

“Yeah. I remember. I remember you shut down your father’s company and ran like something was chasing you. People here lost their jobs and they suffered and they died while you got richer and fucked off to California and got a tan and dated your porn-star girlfriend — ”

“She was a model — ”

“You have to wear clothes to be a model. She posed naked on Instagram — and you left us all behind. And I remember: you left me, Danny.”

“Ah,” he says. “You’re angry at me.” He looks hurt, and Carrie would feel bad if she didn’t know that he’d practiced all his expressions in the mirror when he was a kid, trying to imitate the reactions of other people.

“Good boy. I knew you’d get there eventually.”