He claimed that he was a picture of perfection and it was all good. A roll of the eyes had been my response. Physically, Isaac was right. He was fit as a fiddle, having been involved in a lot of school sport, and he and Blake had some religious little gym routine. It meant that he had the kind of body that I had to use a pen to draw on abs, and filters to even come close to having, but just because he looked good, didn't mean that the stuff wasn't rotting his insides.

After fixing up a healthy snack of Barney Bears with a whipped cream crown, I...