![]() You’ve taken your father’s Jackal Ghost bowling ball from its locked hard-shell case under your mother’s bed-the ball that looks like a purple and black version of the earth, a jackal’s head rising from the swirls-and gone to meet Teddy and Zeke and Evan and Marya, most importantly Marya, for a night of bowling, the game your dead father was obsessed with: the game that, according to your mother, ruins people. Friday night, and you have done the unthinkable.
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