Anna had felt so negative about her alma mater and her ex-classmates that she’d left all her annuals behind when she and Ma had left the old lady’s house; in fact, she hadn’t paged through them since 1977—long before she’d moved out. As Anna had often told Ma, “The only way you’d get me to go to a reunion of those creeps is to hand me an Uzi and a belt of clips, or whatever an Uzi uses.”
And now, flipping through the glossy black-and-white pages, Anna’s fingers longed to caress a trigger. Not allowing her eyes to focus on the face of anyone pictured, she quickly found the section devoted to the EHS faculty. To Anna, the rows of small, mostly candid pictures resembled mug shots.
“I knew him—” the old lady’s horny fingernail was tapping old man Winston’s picture. With a start, Anna realize
