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a plan.
    Janet lived in a trailer park along the main road in back of the gas station her brother had worked at since Kaye left for Philadelphia in the first place. She waved to him as she cut through the lot.
    Corny smiled grudgingly. His hair was a longish brown mop, cut too short in the front and too long in the back. He was wearing a denim jacket and dirty jeans. His skin was red in patches. He was exactly like she remembered him, only taller.
    Kaye walked back behind the little office and bathroom area of the gas station and cut through the overgrown shrubs to the trailer park. The trailers were vehicles in name only—none of them had wheels, and most of them had fences and porches anchoring them with steel and cement to the firmament. She walked up a pebble road toward the trailer.
    A brown-haired girl about Kaye’s age was hanging some wash. Behind her, an opulently fat man lounged in a hammock; flesh oozed through the crisscrossed strings. A trio of dachshunds barked madly as they chased each other along a chain-link fence.
    Kaye came to the screen door and banged on it.
    “Come on in,” Janet called. Kaye could see her feet through the screen, flung over theedge of the grungy blue couch, toes dark with polish. Janet’s toes had wads of toilet paper stuffed between them so they couldn’t quite touch.
    The door squeaked hideously as she opened it. Rust had stiffened the hinges where the white enamel was chipped off. The main room of the trailer was dark, the windows covered in drapes. Light flickered from three sources: the door, the dim amber kitchen light, and the television. On the screen, two women were screaming at one another in front of a studio audience. One of the women had rhinestone eyebrows.
    “Want to do your nails?” Janet asked. “I have a cool blue.”
    Kaye shook her head, although Janet probably didn’t see her do it. “Can I make some coffee?”
    “Sure, make me some too.” Janet stretched, pointing her shiny maroon toes as she arched her back. She was wearing a boy’s sleeveless undershirt and daisy-print cotton panties. “I am totally hungover.”
    “Where’s everybody?”
    “Ma and The Husband are at the flea market. Corny’ll be back from work anytime now. You’ll never believe what she got me the last time she was out—a half shirt with rhinestone cats on it! I mean—where would you even find something like that?”
    Kaye laughed. Janet’s mother collected all kinds of kitschy stuff, but especially all things Star Trek. The trailer walls were covered with collectable plates, framed fan art, and shadowboxed phasers and tricorders. A collection of Spock-related needlepoint throw pillows competed with Janet for couch space. “I saw Corny when I walked over. I don’t think he recognized me.”
    “He’s an asshole. All he does is sit in his room and jerk off. He’s probably gone nearsighted.”
    Kaye took two mugs down from the shelf and filled them with water from the tap. “Maybe I just don’t look the way I used to.” Kaye punched the keypad of the microwave and put the cups in. They spun on the greasy glass tray.
    “I guess.” Janet flipped through the channels and stopped on VHl.
    “So what happened last night?” Kaye knew that it would please Janet if she asked.
    Janet did, in fact, pull herself into a sitting position, and she turned down the sound on the TV. “Well, when we got to Fatima’s place, Aimee was, like, playing with Kenny’s hair, rubbing her hands all over it and saying how soft it was. She must have known we were fighting.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “It’s cool.” Janet pressed a Live-Long-and-Prosperpillow to her chest. “So anyway I go up to her and start rubbing my hands through her hair and telling her how nice it felt, really going to town, and Marcus starts laughing. You know that weird, rumbling Buddha-belly laugh he has. So fucking loud.”
    “What did Kenny do?” Kaye wondered if Kenny hit on every girl he met. She was embarrassed