And this boy, in Iver’s living room, it’s not Arnie after all, is it? Because this boy is not eleven. This boy is not dressed like Arnie. He’s a little taller, a little wider; his hair is a little redder. It’s not that Iver didn’t know this before now; it’s that Iver didn’t want to know this, so he put it off for a while. Ignorance really is bliss, even if you have to force it.
