“…there were perks to letting other people think you were a mutant. He was crowned Homecoming King during his senior year. Had he won the title as part of a collective joke? Or had he won because other kids pitied him, and those same students wanted a self-congratulatory recognition of their empathy? Sebastian knew his win was somehow linked to the presumed seriousness of ‘Barnabas disease,’ but he didn’t care. He was glad he won but not because of the title. His real prize had been an experience: the touch of his hand against the exposed back of Mary DePaul, the flowery smell of her mother’s Coco Chanel fragrance on her neck, her smiling willingness to let his ‘diseased’ fingers inch toward the boundaries of acceptable terrain. That dance allowed him to conceive of something he wanted, something elusive that he could feel but not describe.”