All that flinty pride. All that fuck-you defiance and refusal to show weakness. No wonder. No wonder. She glared in his direction, but he didn’t think she saw him. “We scoured thrift stores for decent clothing, because Mom didn’t want to stand out in her classes, and she didn’t want other kids to mock me at school. Our hair always looked nice because we knew a good stylist, and Mom cleaned her studio sometimes in exchange for a cut and color. And we scrimped for years—years—to get a decent TV and cable, because God knew we weren’t going to movies, weren’t attending concerts, weren’t eating at
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