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sweatpants dripping on her feet, and Kamo stood there with his bent hand lifted toward her, waiting for an answer. And she gave it to him by telling him the truth. “I can’t remember.”
    â€œHuh?” His hand sank slowly down.
    â€œI can’t remember my father.”
    â€œYou can’t remember?” He spoke slowly, as if unsure of her. “You were too young?”
    â€œNo. I mean, I don’t think so. I—I just can’t remember.” She turned to him even though he was only a shape in the dark. “I’m—there’s something wrong with me.”
    She told him about it, and he stood listening—it was easier to talk to him when she couldn’t see his scarred face. Or maybe she had been needing to talk to someone—but it wasn’t as if she could have told just anybody. There was something about Kamo. She blurted it all out, how she didn’t remember her father or mother at all and Daddy was no help, how her life had seemingly started when she was ten, how she blanked out when she tried to go back any farther.
    â€œYou don’t remember your first day of school?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œYour birthday parties?”
    â€œNo. Nothing.”
    â€œGood Lord, Tess.” He sounded uncertain. “Does it bother you?”
    â€œKind of, yeah, but kind of no. Not really.” It wasn’t like a person had to remember kindergarten or birthday parties to get a job or do any of the practical things. Okay, she hated her nightmares—but other people had nightmares too, right? There might not even be a connection.
    Right.
    Almost plaintively Kamo asked, “Don’t you ever wonder? Don’t you want family?”
    â€œI’ve got Daddy.”
    Kamo stood silent. Tess grew afraid.
    â€œKam—don’t say anything to him.”
    Kam swiveled his head as if he were looking at her, though he couldn’t see her face in the dark. “He never told you anything?”
    â€œA little. It bothers him when I ask. Kam, please, don’t go asking him stuff.”
    The back door opened, and there was Daddy, as if somebody had called his name. Against the puny candlelight Tess could see his silhouette as he wheeled his chair so he could look out the screen door. “Tess?” he hollered. She and Kamo had been out there a pretty long time.
    â€œJust a minute!” she hollered back.
    She got the feeling he thought she and Kamo were doing some kind of boy-girl thing but he didn’t want to say it. “Clothes giving you fits?” he yelled.
    â€œYeah, they’re all tangled up.” She rushed to sling the rest of them on the line. Kam came over and helped.
    â€œHow’d he hurt his back?” he asked in a very low voice as the two of them bent over the washtub together.
    â€œHe doesn’t want to talk about that either. He was a bulldozer operator. Some sort of accident.”
    Kam was silent.
    â€œKam,” she begged, “please promise me you won’t hassle him.”
    â€œI keep telling you, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt anybody.” Kam draped the last undershirt over the clothesline, turned the tub upside down to drain, and straightened up to face Tess. “Did he ever tell you your father’s first name?”
    â€œSure.” It was on her birth certificate, so she had to know it. “Marcus. Marcus Rojahin.”
    Kamo nodded, as if he knew all along. “My father’s name was Marco.”
    Tess stood stunned. Marco, Marcus, and the same weird last name—could they be the same person? Up until that moment she had not truly believed it could be happening. “Oh, my God,” she whispered.
    â€œSo you see why I’m here,” he said, and he walked off into the night.

5
    â€œYou want some of this Pepsi?” Butch asked Tess.
    â€œSure.” Of course she wanted some. She wanted a soda of her own, but she couldn’t have it, and she hated