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shit.
    —What?
    —You know.
    —I don’t.
    —He’s just an asshole.
    —What? Does he beat you up? Or make you suck his dick?
    —Neither.
    —Why won’t you tell us?
    —He doesn’t make me touch it. He just jacks off while he looks at me. He makes me stand there and watch him. And I’m not allowed to move or say anything. He likes to come in my bedroom at night. But he’ll also do it if he catches me on the toilet or just sitting there watching TV.
    —What if he catches you sharpening your machete? I bet that would make him think twice.
    —I never told anybody.
    —You have to tell people.
    —I know. I just can’t.
    —You told us.
    —Yeah. I guess.
    —It wasn’t so bad, Bobert, was it?
    —I survived.
    —And we don’t think you’re disgusting, or a freak, or a pussy. We’re glad you’re here with us. We’re glad you got out of that shit.
    —I have a little brother.
    —Is he still at home?
    —For another six years.
    —Unless he becomes a werewolf.
    —I guess he gets by the same way I used to.
    —How’s that?
    —Whenever I got my hands on a comic book I heard this little voice in my head, like a carnival barker, saying, “Step inside. Step inside.”
    —So you pretend the TV or the movie screen is just like a portal through which we can watch what’s happening in this other world?
    —I don’t pretend it. I try to make myself believe it. I want it so bad. I can almost do it without getting high.
    —Then you would be crazy.
    —But if you could control your craziness, wouldn’t it be a good thing? If you could adapt your reality to the situation, you’d be the perfect animal—unstoppable.
    —But that’s impossible—
controlling your craziness
. The whole point of craziness is being out of control of your thoughts.
    —My mother and father are the King and Queen of America. It’s a secret. Not even I know it—or I’m not supposed to. But when they die, I’m gonna inherit the whole earth. They were so worried about how I would rule, they were so uptight about how they should raise me, they went a little overboard on the discipline. So I ran off. But when we get caught, or however it ends, you all are gonna go to jail, but I’m gonna be taken back to the White House—
    —Caesars Palace. Or Trump Tower. The King and Queen of America would live somewhere fancier than the White House.
    —and my mom and dad will reveal to me their true nature and apologize for how shitty they were to me.
    —Then you can give us pardons.
    —Maybe. Some of you. And even if I don’t go back to the White House—even if they put me in jail with the riffraff to teach me a lesson, I can just make myself believe I’m in paradise and the food is perfect and I’m secret royalty.
    —It’s kind of like a total “Fuck You” to the whole world. You can say to the cops, “Put me in my chariot and take me to my palace.” And if you said it over and over again, eventually they would.
    —The only thing you have to give up to be perfectly happy is hope. Any hopes you have that you really could be the president, or that you could be the ruler of your own video game empire you invented—you would have to give that up.
    —Believing in yourself is the only thing that stands between you and paradise.
    —Can you keep a secret?
    —I’m not gonna tell anybody.
    —Not about that. I want you to promise. If we find the Peugeot, can we please ignore it and say we didn’t?
    —We would get in so much trouble.
    —Not if no one ever found out.
    —Well, no one would ever find out from me.
    —Then look right there.
    —What?
    —Up in that driveway. The house right across the street from the elementary school. What kind of car is that?
    —Holy shit.
    —That’s a Peugeot, isn’t it?
    —It’s hard to tell because it doesn’t have a hood ornament.
    —But look at the dents in the hood. He must have been banging it pretty hard.
    —Banging what pretty hard?
    —The hood of that car.
    —I don’t see any