WHEN HE SWINGS OPEN the door of the men’s room he sees Shane standing at the concessions counter, chatting up the girl with the dark eyes and shiny black hair. Shane looks at him as the door’s hinges squeak. “There you are! Everyone was wondering what the hell happened to you.”
The Kid just stands there, dazed. “I’m okay,” he says.
His brother looks at the girl, hooks a thumb over his shoulder, laughs politely, insincerely. “That’s my little bro.”
“Hi there, Little Bro,” says the girl.
The Kid looks from his brother to the girl. Hi there, you little w***e. He steadies himself against a pinball machine. He feels a little better—a lot better, in fact—but isn’t sure that he’s out of the woods yet. He can hear the projector rattling in the room next to the lavatories, the old analog projec
