Mo goes out for a run. Mick is hiding out in his room. I should go check on him, but I can't, don't, won't, don't want to. Mom spent all morning setting the table, stringing the crepe paper, hanging the puffy accordion paper hearts, the same ones she's hung since we were kids. From the center of the chandelier hangs another, much larger, accordion heart.
Cherubs aim their arrows at the dining-room walls.
I filch a candy heart from a red glass bowl. Be mine, it says. Mom's set the table with the dessert service. She's laid out the good silver, too, and the cloth napkins sprinkled with embroidered hearts. The cake stand sits ready, centered on the round table that seats ten.