He longed for the hours before the party when he was allowed to make a stupid mistake or two, allowed to be a stupid asshole. He hadn’t had to think. There had been nobody to avoid. It seemed to him that he’d been a child, full of joy, though he knew he’d been the jocky top dog, irritable or scornful, conceited, and probably, yes, for sure, spoiled. Everybody said so. Now he guessed it could be true. But in those days he hadn’t killed Jordan and Travis yet, so those times must have been extraordinary. It must have been a beautiful life he had back then.
