“I was a terrible child,” Jackson says to me. We’re on a beach–Singing Beach–which is a short walk from a train station called, romantically, Manchester by the Sea. “Very bossy. I used to boss everyone around. My sister was my little minion, until she figured it out and escaped.”
He goes on: “At the beach, I used to make coins out of mud and make the other kids pay with them for things, and I would charge interest since I invented the currency.”