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year before they adopted him, the couple had moved up in the world with lightning speed, a fact which left Robert initially thrilled, and took Melissa’s already rampant insecurities to a whole new level. Ill-equipped for her sudden wealth and petrified those of equal riches might think her low class, the woman committed herself to creating an identity safe from ridicule by the old money she both worshipped and feared.
    A neighborhood sheltered from undesirable influence was required, complete with a modestly elaborate home and well-maintained yard. Two midsize sedans of understated elegance came next, and then a pristine wardrobe of expensively muted clothes.
    Exterior factors addressed, the necessity of a picture-perfect marriage became priority. Unable to have their own children and with her image of domestic perfection in jeopardy, Melissa demanded they adopt. Growing steadily more cowed by the day, Robert agreed, and ten-year-old Cole entered their world. He met her standard, which Cole suspected was the sole factor in his selection. His brown hair matched her own. In other respects, his build and features were similar to those of Robert. Without being told, no one would suspect Cole wasn’t their son – a fact he was certain had been her motivation all along.
    The perfect school was next, and the private institution they found couldn’t have been more ideal. Accustomed to handling the needs of the influential and the affluent, Brighton Modisett Prep School made common practice of keeping from public and legal notice any indiscretions which might later affect their students’ potentially lucrative political or business careers. Blatant mention of Cole’s adopted status was duly eschewed in their records, and thus – short of occasional correction – Melissa’s world was complete.
    Maintenance came in the form of counselors. In ordinary conversation, Melissa and Robert referred to them as Cole’s ‘uncles’, and sometimes even paid the men extra to arrive by night. No cost was too great to keep the neighbors from suspecting the Smiths’ world possessed any flaws. Edmund Vaughn was the youngest member of the army of psychological alteration Melissa commanded and, with his obsequious manner and tone, he had continuously retained his position as Cole’s most hated therapist of all.
    The drone of the television disappeared, and the thud of footsteps on the stairs made him pull the pillow away from his face. His bedroom door opened, and Melissa poked her head inside, taking in the situation with a glance.
    “What are you–” she hissed. “I told you to get changed!”
    Incredulity at his disobedience in her eyes, she slipped into the room and closed the door. Making a beeline to his closet, she began sorting through his clothes frantically, and then yanked a shirt from the chaos.
    “Here,” she snapped, tossing it at him.
    Cole caught it, eyeing the hideously striped polo shirt. “This is stupid,” he said flatly. “Vaughn won’t care if I’m–”
    “Get changed!” Her voice broke as she shrieked.
    He pulled off his sweatshirt and changed into the polo. From his dresser, she tugged out a pair of clean khakis and threw those at him as well.
    Cole paused, his brow furrowing as he looked between her and the pants. “Um…”
    Rolling her eyes in infuriated impatience, she slipped out the door.
    Pants changed, he left the room to find her pacing the confines of the hall. As his door opened, she spun and ran her eyes over him quickly. Apparently satisfied, she grabbed his hand, half-dragging him down the hallway and then the stairs. At the last turn of the staircase, she paused, dropping his hand to straighten her hair. Taking a deep breath, she pasted on a cheery smile and trotted down to the first floor.
    “Here we are,” she announced brightly to Robert and the other occupant of the room. Standing by the pale sofa, the counselor seemed to blend with the furniture around him. Dressed in khakis and a