Tell me a joke," I say. "Ha! I already know this one." "Do it anyway," says Rai. "You're better at them than me." I take a breath and laugh so that my ribs creak. "Which one of you wants to be my friend? Both, you can be my friends, because I'll take either one." They stare at me. "I want to be your friend. Who's laughing?" "I am, I'm just not sure why. Can I see your smile?" I keep my mouth shut until the pain in my side ebbs away. "Don't you believe me, then? You're not being your usual cynical self?" They stare at each other. "You can see the future. Why don't you know how many friends we have left?" "Because you haven't told me, so your plan wasn't to murder me?" "Not that you'd care. So. You were about to laugh at my joke. What was it? I want to hear it. You're about to tell it again, aren't you? How about telling me the joke about the guy at the bar who tries to flirt with the woman, she says she's his wife. He says if she doesn't know he's married and can flirt with him, he'll pay her one hundred zin. He says, 'Yes, I'm a rich man, and not just because my bride is wealthy.' So she says, 'How did your wife get so fat?' And the man says, 'She eats everything in front of her, but she doesn't chew.'" "You're going to kill me now," I say. Rai opens his mouth, just for a moment. When he closes it, his face has gone red. "Okay. Okay. We'll let you live. Now tell us the joke." "I won't help you cheat," I say. They both start laughing so hard their sides hurt. I try to laugh too, to see if they'll feel bad when I do, but then it turns into a spasm of pain from my ribs. "I'll help you win, but not cheat," I whisper. "Okay," says Rai. "Okay." "You have a gift. Why do you let them abuse it? I know you can move things." They stop laughing. "What did you do to my chair?" asks Rai. "I saw you change the numbers. Why didn't you come up with any new questions?" I ask. They don't answer. The pain returns in a throb down the side of my ribs, and I cry out. Rai puts a hand over my mouth. "Don't make him angry." He moves his hand away. "How did you figure out we were talking about you?" "I heard them talking about it." Rai shakes his head. "They've decided not to tell you. They think you'll say something that will help them win. It's not a surprise question, the way they thought. They're using you." "They do this to everyone," I say. Rai sits up and puts his hands on the arms of the chair. "I'll pretend this is your first night on the game. Let me go through it so you know the rules. Then I'll tell you what you should have asked. Don't do anything, just listen." My ribs still hurt too much for him to push me any farther, so I sit still and watch him. "The person at the game thinks someone you know is playing. They ask you questions. The people in your group answer them. Sometimes they will lie, because they're trying to make you lose. Sometimes they'll try to be polite and be honest, but it's the only answer they can give. There are eleven of them, always a man and a woman, the two with the same first name. They're all the people you would trust with your life." "What are the questions?" "About each person, where they live, what they do, how old they are, what they like to eat, what they do for a living. If someone asks what you like to eat, you don't lie." "But if you don't know," I say. Rai looks at me and says, "Yes." He stops talking. "But why?" I ask. "You're all making so much money. Why don't you have a big house and cars?" "Why doesn't anyone eat this bread?" he asks. "We do! It's good bread." He looks at Rai. "It's not easy to have a little in your pocket. Maybe in seven years." I smile. "Maybe." "Don't trust us. That's the first thing. We have very few rules. We're not like people who go to work every day. What is your favorite food? Beans? Rice? Something else?" I answer the questions, and Rai corrects me if I miss anything. After we're done, he takes another piece of bread from the bag and says, "We're going to leave. Keep the chair. I don't want anyone to see it." Rai holds out his hand for the bread and I give it to him. I'm beginning to think we're playing games and I should give him some candy in return. "Don't eat it now. You're going to eat later. Put it in your pocket. If someone sees it, they'll eat it. The bread and the candy go together, so give me the other one." I put the bread into my pocket. He says, "Go home and eat dinner. But don't tell anyone what happened. If you tell anyone what happened tonight, they'll just come for you again, and I'll come and be here when they come. Do you promise to let the next guy win?" "Yes." "When do you start getting your questions back?" "I don't know. They're going to tell me later. They don't want to lose my questions." "They told you that?" "Yes." "Maybe they're playing with you," says Rai. "What?" I say, alarmed. "They want to make you lose, but they want to win too. So they'll ask a question that they know you will answer with something that will help them beat you. And if you know they're lying, you're going to stay honest so you can beat them. But if you don't know, it's better if you answer to their questions, and they will lose." "What questions?" "What questions? If the questions are good, you'll answer them. If they're bad, you'll keep your answers honest. That's all." He points to the bread in my pocket. "The bread is very good. Eat it later. But don't let anyone see it. Take care of it now." They go to the door, and I hear Rai give my name. The other man says my name in turn. "I knew your father," says the man. "Did you really?" I say. "How old was he when he died?" "Why did you let them beat you up?" asks Rai. I lean against the wall, where the painting is. They know everything about me, but there is no way they could know how I met David. If they do know him, they wouldn't call him my father. Maybe they only know what my family wants them to know. But that could be a dangerous game for me. They must know that my father isn't angry with me. I'm the one who should be angry with him. I should be the one in this world who has lost something terrible and lost his mind at the same time, because it's my fault that I was born without a father and with an evil sister and a family so full of hate and pain. But they haven't won yet, and maybe they won't ever. "It's dangerous to get mad at the game," I say. "But they're taking me again tomorrow. I have to leave." "It's better if you don't come back. They'll be watching you," Rai says. "They can't watch us all the time." "Why don't you come and tell us what they said? If they ask us the same questions again, we'll know they're playing. Then we can get the answers." "They might not ask anything," I say. "We'll talk to them, okay? And we can figure out how we can help you." Rai leaves the door, and the voices stop for a moment. I hold out my hand for the bread, but when I look, it's gone. Rai and his friend are gone. There is a knock on the door and they ask if I can come out. I try to think of a way to trick them, so they will think I'm going home, but there is nothing I can do. The woman opens the door a little and peers at me, and I hold my hands away from the wall and slowly slide off the chair. They look both ways down the street and then invite