Because that day when Bulldog was shut in the locker and the janitor had to cut the lock off, the janitor’s sleeves slid up, revealing his tattoos: skulls. That was the first time Joar saw them, and he would never forget it. Because without the janitor, nothing would have turned out the way it did. When you’re fourteen years old, a single person can be like wind beneath a butterfly’s wings. “Art is coincidence, love is chaos,” Ted says.
