ITG Excerpt

In The Garage

Part One

"Acceptance of prevailing standards often means we have no standards of our own."
~ Jean Toomer

Barbara Jean Belanger

There'll always be shit that happens in your life that'll make you wonder what the hell God was
thinking when he made humans.

I'm reading the Weird World News across the kitchen table from Dad and Nan as they argue about
Nan's cribbage score.
Nan's swearing in French and tells him, "I got a 32 hand, and dere's nuting you can do about it - but
lose."
Then Dad goes, " Put your glasses on, Dearest Maman, and count again because there's no possible
way you can get a 32 hand in cribbage when the highest is 29."
Nan clunks the back of Dad's head with the empty deck of cards. "Don't talk back to your elders."
Then she goes on in French about how she didn't raise no rude kids and how Dad must have been
brainwashed while he was in the army.
I hold my paper higher and snicker thinking that's what Dad's always ragging on me about - except for
the army part - and that's when I see the story.
"Listen to this, " I say. Nan and Dad stop fighting. "Some scientists in Japan invented a new kind of
gum. By chewing it, your boobs can get 80% bigger. Ha!" They laugh and I go on, "You know, the guys
are going to majorly dis me and tell me I need gum that'll make my boobs shrink but they'll love this
story - especially Alex." I look at Dad and Nan. They're staring at me with their mouths hanging open.
And suddenly I feel like I've been slapped.
Alex is gone, and I find myself lost in a thick fog of emotion where
I'm left
Gasping
For
Air.

Alex Fitzgerald's Journal

Haunted

I'm haunted by a secret
that will eat away my insides,
until I'm empty
and my life
disintegrates into
nothingness.

BJ
What happened to Alex Fitzgerald is one of those things.

The closest I've come to going to church is driving around the frigging cars that block our driveway
when there are people in the church across the street. So standing here trying to give my best friend's
eulogy makes me want to scream louder than a cheap guitar when you stand too close to the amp.
Everyone's gawking at me like I'm some kind of circus freak. They're staring at me, at my scar, at my
blotch, picking out all that's wrong with me and I'm numb.
I'm listening to the creaking seats, the coughs, and the eh-hems echoing off the church ceiling. I'm
standing here, in front of God, the priest, and everybody listening to
EVERY
SINGLE
AMPLIFIED
BREATH,
of everyone in front of me, unable to say a God-damn word about the guy who was my best friend for
eight years. All I can do is stand here silent, and think how it all began.

Alex
Alone

Surrounded by friends,
I feel
Alone.

None of them
is like me.

Tormented
by what I am,
and confronted by what
what I want to be.

BJ
If God made us in his image does that mean he's screwed up too?

I'm just a little kid and it's early in the morning. I'm plunked in the backseat of my mother's red Honda.
Rain drums on the roof. It sounds like music. I listen and watch raindrops dance in the parking lot. Rain
ploink, ploink, ploinks faster against the roof. It's dripping down the window, turning everything outside
blurry.
My mom rests her head against the steering wheel. A line of her cigarette smoke wiggles back and
tickles my nose. I sneeze. She jerks straight up, swears and bang, bang, bangs her hands against the
wheel, three times - I count them.
"Mommy, you okay?" I whisper.
"Shut up." She turns around and smacks me. I whimper and hide my face behind my hands. "Stop your
God-damn bawling. You're so stupid. Don't you know everyone hates a crybaby?" She turns and
shakes me so my head bangs, against the seat and I bawl harder. "I told you to stop your God-damn
crying!"
She shoves open her door and gets out. "I can't stand to look at your ugly face anymore!" She slams
the door and walks away with fast long steps. She doesn't look back - not once. She just leaves me
there - alone and sniffling in the backseat of her car.
I'm just a little kid and I watch my mother race away from me through a lopsided world of water.
And the rain keeps ploink, ploink, ploinking on the roof of her red Honda.
~~~
The sun shines through the car's window and wakes me up from my nap. I look outside for my mom but
don't see her. Instead there's a lady standing outside the car looking in at me. She waves her hands and
goes, "Where's your Mommy?"
I shrug. She crunches her face up like Mommy does sometimes when she's mad at me or Daddy; then
goes into the store.
I watch the store doors opening and closing. Every time I check for Mommy but she's not coming. It's
hotter and my hair feels wet so I wipe my forehead with my shirtsleeve.
The lady from before comes back with a cart full of groceries and stops and looks at me funny. "Open
the door, Sweetie," she says.
But I won't. Daddy tells me never to talk to people I don't know. I don't know this lady. "Come on,
Honey, open the door. I won't hurt you," she goes again.
But I still won't, so she runs away and brings back a man. He's big and looks scary. I pull my coat up
over my face so I can't see them. I hear them banging, but if I can't see them, they can't see me either
and maybe they'll go away.
It's getting even hotter under here, so I take off my raincoat again and look outside for Mommy.
Mommy's still not there, but that lady is. Her face is wet and red and her eyes are puffy.
I have to pee and I'm thirsty, but I won't unlock the door 'cause now there are so many people running
around the car, they're scaring me.
I peek in my snack bag and pull out a juice box. The straw is hard to get in the hole and when it finally
goes in, purple juice squirts all over the seat and carpet. Mommy will be mad. She'll probably spank me
and that makes me scareder, but I won't cry. Mommy said no one likes a crybaby.
Soon there are policemen outside the car asking me to unlock the door, but I won't 'cause I don't know
those policemen either. I still have to go pee and I can't hold it anymore. I wet my pants 'cause there's
no potty and that'll make Mommy madder. That makes me even scareder and I try really hard not to
cry. But I can feel my bottom lip moving and my eyes get blurry and everything outside gets lopsided
like Mommy did when she left. I wipe away the lopsided people 'cause as long as I don't cry, Mommy
will come back.
The policeman outside pulls out a long flat thing and the front door unlocks. He leans in and pulls me
out. Daddy's car drives up. He jumps out and grabs me from the policeman's arms. Even though my
pants are wet and I spilled juice in the car he hugs me close, kisses my head and says, "I can't believe
she did this to you."
And I wonder three things. Who is she? What did she do? And when Mommy is coming back to see I'm
not a crybaby anymore?

~~~

It's a few days later and I sit in a chair on the front porch eating some peanut butter crackers and
kicking the air with my feet. I keep looking up the road to see if Mommy's coming home. But I never
see her. A cab pulls into the driveway and I run to it calling, "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!"
Daddy comes out of the house, but it's not Mommy getting out of the cab. It's Nan.
Nan is good too 'cause she brings cookies and toys. This time she doesn't have cookies or toys. She
has a lot of suitcases and a kitty. She hugs me tight and hands me the kitty. "Pour toi," she goes. "Une
petite amie." She's soft so I hug her hard and pull her to my face. She whines and scratches me with her
claws. Then Nan says, "Be gentle."
But instead of being gentle I go, "Stop whining, you stupid kitty, no one likes a crybaby," and drop it on
the grass. "I don't want to look at your ugly face anymore," and I stomp back to my chair to wait for
Mommy.
Daddy and Nan look at each other and frown. "Maman," he says, "thank you for coming." He hugs
her, whispers something in her ear and grabs her bags. "BJ, Nan is going to stay with us. Isn't that
great?"
"Will she make cookies?" I ask.
"All de time," Nan goes, "and you can help."
"Now?" I say.
"Sure!" Nan tells me. "Come on." I look down the road one more time, jump up and go into the kitchen
with Nan. The kitty follows me and plays with my loose shoelace. I think she's not so ugly after all and I
think I'll name her 'Sunny' 'cause it's sunny outside today and she makes me happy like the sun does. I
pick her up and kiss her head gently 'cause she's not crying anymore.

Alex
Flawed

It's better to be flawed outside,
like BJ,
than to be flawed inside
like me,
Because right off she knows
what to expect from people.
Right now,
I don't even know
what to expect from
Myself.

BJ
True friends are gifts from God. Don't turn them away.

"Ugly, ugly, ugly!"
It's third-grade and Brian and Darren - fifth-grade Booger-Bullies - push me around. Their jackets
swing as they shove me between each other, back and forth, back and forth. I'm getting dizzy. I trip and
scrape my hand along the hot pavement. I won't cry though.
Other kids surround us and join in with, "Ugly, ugly, ugly."
I jump to my feet and glare at Brian and Darren. "I may be ugly, but you're so slow in the head your
mothers must have screwed turtles!" Some of the kids laugh. That makes Booger-Bullies' faces
scrunch up like they're sucking lemons. They push me hard against the wall and the bricks hurt my
back.
I turn to run, but a ball whacks the wall beside me. I turn the other way and another ball slams against
the wall. I move right - thwack. Left - thwack. I can't run away and they throw the balls at me. They
sting my arms and legs and leave red marks.
But I won't cry.
I can't cry, 'cause everyone hates a crybaby.
Suddenly this skinny new kid runs past all the other kids, like he's some kind of king. The perfect-kids
watch him grinning, as he tears toward me.
New Kid is right in front of me. I flinch thinking he's going to plow me in the face. Instead, he spins so
fast rocks spray around his shoes. Then he yells, "Stop it!"
Brian steps forward and goes, "Why don't you make me, wimpy?" He chucks a ball at New Kid, who
reaches out and catches it faster than a NHL goalie grabs a slap-shot. Then New Kid chucks it back
and hits Brian in the head.
"How do you like it?" New Kid says back.
Brian takes a swing at New Kid's face but the kid stops the punch and plows Brian in the chin. Brian
falls backwards.
"Anyone else want to try?" New Kid asks, stepping forward. Everyone shakes their heads and leaves.
New Kid turns around, "You okay?"
"Sure," I say.
He sticks his hand out, "Hi, my name is Alex Fitzgerald. I just moved here with my dad."
I shake his hand. "BJ Belanger."
"Want to play with me?" he asks.
I nod and since that day Alex and I have been best friends.

~~~

It's my eighth birthday party. It's just me, Dad, Nan and Alex. Alex leans forward and balances on his
seat when Dad brings in my gift.
"Well, BJ, since you told us to surprise you, Alex, Nan and I put our heads -and wallets - together and
came up with this. Hope you like it." Dad hands me a big box, wrapped in blue paper.
I'm unwrapping it all dainty like, trying to save the paper.
Alex bounces on his chair. He taps the table. He hums and groans.
I smirk. I'm unwrapping the present too slow for him and I know it. I go, "Maybe we should eat our
cake first?"
"Ahhhh!" Alex jumps from his seat and runs around the table so he's standing over me. "Open it! Will
ya just hurry up and open it?"
Dad, Nan and I laugh; then I tear off the wrapping paper. It's a brown box. I pop open the box and
there's this silver video camera inside.
Nan goes, "It was Alex's idea."
"You like it?" Alex says.
"We know you don't like to be in front of the camera so we thought maybe you'd like to be behind
one," Dad says.
I can't think of anything to say. A video camera.
"I- I thought you'd like it," Alex goes, when I don't say anything.
I jump from my seat, put the video camera on the table and hug him tight. "I love it. It's the best
present ever."

Alex
Escape
For my tenth birthday more than anything,
I wanted a guitar,
but Dad insisted on a basketball net.

For my tenth birthday more than anything
I wanted a guitar,
and BJ knew Dad wouldn't buy it.

So on my tenth birthday,
BJ took her own birthday money,
and used IT to buy me
my first guitar.

On my tenth birthday,
BJ gave me
my escape.

BJ
Silence between two people can be awkward but silence between true friends can be comforting.

Even now, in eleventh grade, Alex and I always sit together for lunch. Neither of tries to keep our
conversation going because we've been friends so long we can just be happy being bored together.
I really don't know how that happened. We're so different. He's the kind of kid everyone wants to be -
good looking, talented, great at sports, rich and everyone's friend - and well� I'm not.
Maybe we're friends because neither of us have our real mothers around. Or maybe it's because we
both have creative sides - him with music and me with movie making and that makes us understand
each other.
But I think it's mostly because he's never allowed his 'all that' to creep into his head like most people
do. Alex has always, and will always be Alex. Hanging with him makes a person feel the same as lazing
around in an over-stuffed chair wearing a well-worn pair of pajamas.
Usually when I'm not with Alex, or hiding behind the lens of my video camera, I want to fold myself up
and disappear into the trashcan behind the school like a 'burn note' written by another girl.

Alex

Expectations

My Dad tells me,
"Son, you have to have
the highest point average in a game
or the scouts will pick someone else."

He says,
"I expect to see
all 'A's on your report card.
'B's are not good enough."

He says,
"Look to your future, Son.
You can have the best.
The best wife.
The best kids.
Nothing but the best."

And when I think about
everything he expects from me,
my stomach knots up
and jumps up to my throat,
because I know,
I can't be the person
he wants me to be.

And when I don't live up to
his expectations,
I shrink so small,
he can no longer see me
when I'm standing
right in front
of him.

BJ
Vanity is like a drug - the more you take of it the more brain cells you fry.

I yank open my locker and a note falls out. I scoop to snatch it off the tiles and stuff it deep into my
pocket. If Alex sees it, he'll get all freaked out about how he wishes people would just lay off me.
I get so many of these notes, I don't have to open it to know what it says, but later when Alex is in a
different class I do.
That note says, 'Alex only likes you because he's wants to work for the humane society.'
That note says, 'How can Alex hold his food in when he eats at the same table with you.'
That note says, 'It can't be because he wants to do a dog because you wouldn't be even a good lay with
a bag over your head.'
That note flattens me like a frog that has been left in a glass container for two weeks without water.
But when I get to the end, that note makes me smile. I wonder if being pretty makes a person's head
lose so many brain cells they can't spell anonymous.

Alex
Hugs from a Kid

While I'm playing my guitar
everything bad in my world
disappears,
and I feel like I do
when my four-year old half-brother, Jacob,
comes to find me
just to hug me
for no reason.

?

BJ
Laughter can bandage wounds but it can't take away the sting.

In the school's hallway the guys and I talk about how we plan to become famous and die legends.
Before I can tell them how I want to film an Oscar winning movie, this perfect girl, I don't know, gawks
at me.
She goes, "Ever hear of something called a diet? You look like a slob."
The guys shift their feet and stare at the ground.
I suck in a breath. "I can't go on a diet."
"Why not?" she asks.
"Because I have to eat lots and gain a ton of weight so when I fall down
and die� I'll leave a huge mark on the world."
The guys laugh, and relax. The girl huffs and stomps away-burned.
"All right, BJ!" Alex goes. He gives me a high-five. "You showed her."
"I did," I say, pretending what she said didn't bug me, but inside my soul is being smooshed every time
her spiky high heels take a perfect step away from us.

Alex

Acting

BJ knows me so well,
I'm afraid sometimes
she can look deep into my eyes
and see my whole life is an act.
Just like I can look deep into her eyes,
and see that sometimes
she's acting too.

BJ
For some people being accepted by their peers can mean the difference between life and death.

Alex and the guys like me for me. They aren't scared to be seen hanging with someone who wasn't
made perfect. I meet them at the skate park and videotape them skateboarding. Rick mokes the
pavement trying to hang in the air. He jumps to his feet, flicks away the blood gushing out of his nose
and smiles at me. "Sick! You get that on tape?"
I give him a thumbs-up. He does a couple of ollies before hitting the ramp again.
Victoria and Rachel, two of our high-school's Queen Bees lean on the railings nearby. They flirt with
the guys, squealing every time someone wipes out and bloodies up an arm or something. I zoom in on
them and they smile and wave at the camera.
Standing near them, I play like they're my friends and I'm hanging with them like girls do. But even
though neither of them has ever been nasty to me, I know that without the camera they'd totally ignore
me. Because to girls like them, I'm just an ugly blotch on the face of the world like the port-stain blotch
on my face.

Alex
I'm Not an American Idol

Jacob follows me around
like I'm some kind of teen idol.
I want to slap him and tell him
that my life is so fucked up
he should find someone else
to idolize.

But then he rushes into the garage,
to show me a new string he learned to play
on the old acoustic guitar I gave him,
and I can't make myself tell him the truth.

Instead I wrap him tight in my arms
and close my eyes,
praying,
he never has to deal with what
I'm dealing with.

BJ
It's amazing how something so little can make a person fill up inside.

The smell of flowers hangs in Alex's living room like a spring day. I close my eyes, take a deep breath,
and imagine the sun on my face. It warms up my insides and I smile.
At first I can't see where the smell is coming from, then notice a vase in the corner with tiny, white,
flowers in it.
"They're Lily of the Valley," Alex's step-mom, Jen, says so suddenly I almost drop the vase.
"They smell nice."
Jen smiles. "Stay here for a minute. I'll be right back." She walks out of the room leaving me alone.
A couple minutes later she comes back carrying some more Lily of the Valley. She brushes the hair out
of my face and pins it back on one side with the flowers and a bobby-pin. She smiles. "You're very
pretty, you know?"
"Yeah, right." I roll my eyes thinking she's just being nice.
"No really, come see." She leads me to the hallway mirror.
The hair on my bad side is covering my birthmark so I can't see it. But the hair on my good side is
pinned back, showing my face. I do look good. I turn sideways and glance again. From that angle if I
lost some weight, I might even pass for one of Victoria's and Rachel's groupies.
Jen stands behind me grinning. When I smile at her reflection, I'm even prettier.
"Told you." She gives my shoulders a squeeze, and I wonder if this is what it feels like to have a
mother around that loves you.
~~~

We're ten and we're playing in the plastic pool in my back yard.
"I'm getting a new mom," Alex goes as he splashes down.
"Really?" I ask. "Cool!" I sit in the pool beside him.
"I guess."
"You don't like her?"
"It's not that; she's really nice," he says, "and pretty too. But she's not my mom, and you hear those
stories about evil stepmothers and stuff. Maybe after they get married she'll turn mean."
"Those stories are fake," I go. "What's her name?"
"Jen."
"Jen is a good name for a mom," I tell him. "Not an evil step-mother name. You're lucky. I wish my
dad would get married again."
"Yeah, I am lucky." He smiles. "Jen is a good name for a mom - my mom."

Alex
Proud of Me

Dad doesn't know
I hate basketball.
He doesn't know
I only play because,
He comes to watch
with Jacob and Jen
and they all
cheer me on.

Dad cheers the hardest,
like I'm not the greatest
disappointment
in his life.

He yells over the crowd,
"Nice shot, Son!"

He tells Jacob
"Someday, you might
be able to play ball
like your big brother."
And Jacob yells,
"Yay!"

Dad cheers,
like he's actually
proud
of me.

BJ
Listening to a good singer can make you float inside. Listening to a bad one can make you cover your
ears and run out of the room screaming.

I set up my video equipment in Alex's garage, so we can check out the clips I shot at the park. We mix
their music into the background and make a dummy video. It sounds a little wonky at first, but works.
"You need a really good lead singer," I say.
"What's wrong with me?" Rick asks.
"You play a mean bass but you sing like a dying crow."
"BURNED!" Pete goes.
Rick squawks, then laughs because he knows its true.
"Got an idea," Alex goes. He leaves and comes back later carrying several Cokes and a stack of
signs.
"Let's split up and hang these up." He hands each of us a Coke and several signs.

Wanted Singer
Male or Female
Must like punk and Emo.
Auditions held at 7:00 pm Friday.
102 Queen Street.
IN THE GARAGE.

Alex
Some Days
After my games
Dad and I go out, alone.
On the days when I reach the
highest point average,
being with dad can be like
flying.
But on the days when I have a
bad game,
Dad says things like,
"The coach should have pulled you."
Or, "You're going to have to step it up
if you want the scouts to look at you."
And being with him is worse than
drowning
in my own shit.

BJ

A good movie can pull you out of your life and put you into someone else's, and the more you step into
someone else's life the more you can learn about yours.

I decide to film a documentary called, The Making of a Band. In the garage the guys and I hang a sheet
on the wall and set up a stage with lights.
"This will be great for promo." Alex goes, as he moves the last light into place.
He looks outside to see if anyone is coming. "Might as well practice while we wait."
"Hey, you guys are good." The first guy comes in. He wanders to the mike. "Y'all know any country?"
"Ah-No," Alex goes. "We're looking for a punk singer."
The guy nods his head and screams into the mike. He doesn't say nothing, he just screams until Alex
stops him.
"Not that kind of punk," Alex goes. He leads the guy outside and brings back Victoria and Rachel.
"You trying out?" I ask.
"God, no." Rachel laughs. "We just want to watch."
I watch her hitting on Rick, wishing I was made so perfect I'd have guys eating out of the palm of my
hand. I turn and see Victoria hit on Alex. A balloon grows in my throat until I swallow and look down to
fiddle with my camera.

Six more people answer our ad and they're so bad I figure I can send their clips to some kind of blooper
show and make mega bucks.
As I film, one guy comes in dressed in an ostrich suit, thinking the ad said must like Punk and emus.
When he leaves, Victoria asks, "Did you catch that, BJ? Did you get him on tape?"
"Oh yeah!" I go, and her, Rachel and I laugh together. They high five me and pat me on the back. I'm
guessing that maybe they aren't as stuck up as I thought because they're treating me just like one of
their friends, and that makes my stomach whirl.

Alex
Invisible Shields

When Jacob plays in the yard
he's off in his own world,
surrounded by the
invisible shield
of childhood that
prevents him from getting hurt
by the evil things
in the real world.

More than ever,
I want that shield back.

BJ
Words tell lies. Actions tell truths. What you do can show another person exactly who you are.

It's Saturday, and I rush to Alex's place to tell the guys my Weird News for the week.
"Guess what I just read?" I barge into the garage. The guys stop playing to listen. "Some actor erased
his nose using this new kind of makeup! He was gorgeous but now he doesn't have a nose!"
"What? His nose is totally gone?" Pete asks. "No way."
"Yeah, doctors rushed in and pumped his nose back up out with a mini air-hose. Anyhow, when the
actor opens his mouth the air comes out and his nose disappears again! Talk about an air-head."
"Sick!" Rick goes. "Is he suing?"
"Big time." I nod.
"I'd sue too," Pete goes.
They get back to practicing and I'm filming for my doc when this kid from school walks in.
His real name is David something or other, but the kids at school just call him Faggot. He flips his blond
shag out of his eyes and looks at me. "Hey," he goes. His smile warms me up inside and I can tell by
the look on his face he's really into what the band is playing.
"You guys are awesome," David says when they finish their song. "You still looking for a singer?"
Rick puts down his bass and without looking at David goes, "Yes, but not you."
"What's wrong with me?" David asks. He clenches his fists by his side.
"You're a faggot." Rick steps toward David like he's ready to beat the shit out of him.
I zoom out and get them both on the cam..
"So?" David goes.
Rick moves up again and I wince. David doesn't know about Rick's freak-outs, or how he can be such a
hotheaded asshole. So he doesn't back away and stares Rick down. I get the feeling he's not as wimpy
as he looks and maybe he can clean the floor with Rick's ass, but Rick takes another step and David
backs off.
Alex glances at Jacob, who's playing with a microphone, and gets himself between Rick and David.
"Can you sing?" he asks David.
"I've been told so," David tells him.
"Jacob," Alex says. "Hand David that mike."
Jacob skips over and gives David the mike. Rick huffs and plunks himself in a chair.
David flicks on the mike and goes into this incredible unaccompanied ultra-soft Emo solo. His voice lifts
me off the floor and makes the room spin. When he's done, he puts down the mike and looks up. For a
few minutes even Rick shuts up.
"Holy sh�," Pete looks at Jacob, and stops. "I think we need to have a group huddle."
I film David. He shifts his feet and sucks back a gulp of air. I turn my cam onto the huddle.
Rick eyes David, shakes his head, and loud enough for David to hear goes, "I'm not working with a
fag."
David sighs, and looks around. He sees me filming him and glares into the lens.
I feel like he's looking right through it and into me. So I turn it away and film the guys again.
Alex and Pete are trying to reason with Rick, saying things like, "But he's really, really good and we
have to do what's best for the band."
But Rick gets madder, and kicks over a mike stand. It crashes against the floor, missing Jacob's head
by about an inch. "If he comes in - I leave. I'm not going to be on stage in front of the whole school with
a fucking fag. It's me or him. You choose." He sneers at David.
David leans against the wall, and finds something interesting to look at on the floor by his feet.
Alex and Pete look at each other, then at David - who is starting to head for the door. They look back
at Rick, then at the over-turned mike stand, and Jacob - who is now crying about almost being smacked
in the head with the stand, then at each other again.
Pete asks David, "Can you play bass?"
David looks back from the door quickly and goes, "Yeah." He smirks at Rick. "Yeah - I can play
bass."
"Fuck you all!" Rick spits at Alex, and slams his bass into its case. He looks directly at me and asks,
"Did you get that, you pathetic sorry-assed-face of a bitch?"
He glares into the lens. "Did you, you fucking loser? It will be great footage for your fucking
doc-cuuuu-mentary. Don't you think?" He storms toward the garage door. "You all regret this. One
day, I guarantee it - you'll regret it."
As the garage door slams behind him, it rips me straight out of my body, and whips me onto the floor. I
let my camera drop to my lap. It films Jacob, wide-eyed and teary, clinging to Alex's waist. Alex stands
in front of me his face as white as the little dots on a snowy TV screen.