She didn’t say what she was thinking: God help those high schoolers.

That night, after Dale had shuffled out in a daze and Tompkins had promised to “make some calls,” the Cooper family sat at the dinner table. Meatloaf. Mashed potatoes. Green beans from a can.

Missy, his twin, sat on the edge of his bed, swinging her legs. She wore a pink cowgirl hat and a look of profound boredom.