Only my little sister, Mary, dribbling a soccer ball in and out of the room as we talked, seemed unconcerned. “We are the ones who are not normal,” she said as she passed, her shin guards flashing. “How bad can a guy named Jason be?” “I am so much more likely to murder him,” I said, trying to put their minds at ease. “He wouldn’t even see it coming. I would wait till he was asleep …”
