Archive of Our Own

  It’s after school when Jack approaches Sarah at her locker. She’s trying to decide if she really needs her science textbook or if she can just bullshit the homework. It is, after all, only the first day of school. If teachers assign homework they should expect that the kids won’t care about it. 

  “Hey, Jack. Happy senior year.”

  “Yeah, you too.”

  He looks anxious. Sarah shuts her locker and places a comforting hand on his arm. “Are you alright?”

  “Fine. I wanted to ask you something, and I’ve been trying to figure out how.” He’s fiddling with the strings on his bracelet, a nervous habit that her brother often comments on the adorability of. 

  “Okay? Jack, you know you can ask me absolutely anything.” Jack is one of her best friends in the world and she’s known him most of her life. There’s nothing she won’t do for him and she knows the sentiment is mutual. She has never once seen him nervous in front of her.

  “Right. Uh…would you want to get dinner or something this weekend?”

  “Sure. Did you ask David yet?” she inquires, walking along while he trails slightly behind. 

  Jack chuckles awkwardly and catches up. “No, I was actually hoping it could be just the two of us? Like a date?”

  Sarah stops dead in her tracks and stares at him. She isn’t sure whether she should yell at him or bust out laughing. Is he joking? This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Jack is supposed to come to his senses eventually and ask David out, not her.

  Oh. David. Shit. He is going to be devastated when he finds out. If Jack is serious, and it seems like he is, then not only does David have to sit through him wanting to be with someone else again, but that someone else is his sister.

  Of course, Sarah would never say yes in a million years. Sure, Jack is undeniably hot and one of the people she loves most in the world but not like that. Right? Even if she is a little attracted to him, it doesn’t matter. Her having a little crush (which she isn’t even sure she does) is nothing compared to how soul-crushingly gone for him David is.

  Jack is waiting expectantly. “Sarah? The staring thing’s getting a little creepy now.”

  She shakes herself out of it. “I’m sorry, Jack, but no. I’m happy to spend more time with you but as friends. You know I love you, it’s just—”

  “No worries,” he says awkwardly, blushing.

  “Don’t be embarrassed.” Sarah reaches out and squeezes his hand. “It’s really okay. I’m sorry.”

  “Nah, it’s fine.” He shakes his head but the blush remains. “I’ll see you later?”

  She nods. He gives her a tiny salute and melts into the crowd. She frowns. The last thing Sarah wants to do is hurt Jack’s feelings, but she can’t help it in this situation.

  Unsure of what to do, she tries to put it out of her mind.

  It’s her day to pick up Les, so by the time she gets home, David is already there.

  “So?” He approaches her excitedly, bombarding her as she drops her bag by the door and slips her shoes off. “What did you say?”

  Sarah pushes past him and makes her way to the kitchen, where Les is already scavenging the cabinets for a snack.

  “What are you talking about?” she asks, searching the fridge for something appealing.

  David rolls his eyes. “To Jack! What did you say to Jack when he asked you out?”

  Sarah turns around. “You knew?”

  “Of course I knew! He told me this morning.”

  Now she can see that his smile is a bit strained.

  “David…what do you think I said? I said no!”

  “What? Why?” he asked. 

  “Are you insane? You’re in love with him!”

  He waves her off. “Don’t worry about that, I’m over it.” 

  Sarah moves her hands to her hips and takes on a stance that can only be described as skeptical-mother-position. “Oh really? Even though two days ago you were gushing about the shirt he was wearing?”

  “I can appreciate that he’s hot without being in love with him,” David argues. “Seriously, don't turn him down on my behalf.” His eyes are a little watery. “You guys would make a great couple.”

  “Oh, boychik.” She tackles him in a hug. He’s so loving and generous and self-sacrificial. He is willing to be even more miserable than he already is just to make Sarah and Jack happy. Sarah loves him so much.

  He is infuriating.

  “I’m not going to do that.”

  “Saz, I’m telling you I’m over it,” he says, moving toward the den. “I think I just thought I liked him because we spend so much time together, you know?” He sits down on the couch casually. 

  “You’re in love with him, and you have been for years.”

  “I’m not,” he insists. “Do you think he’s cute?”

  “Well, yeah, but—”

  “If it weren’t for me, would you want to go out with him?”

  Sarah bites her lip and groans petulantly, throwing herself down next to him. “It doesn’t matter!”

  “Of course it does! Saz, if you don’t want to that’s fine, but I’m not in love with him. Maybe I thought I was, but I’m not. Can’t you respect and trust me enough to know that I know myself?” 

  That isn’t fair and she knows he knows it. David cannot use her trust in him as leverage.

  “Please, neshama. For me? I promise I’m not in love with him.”

  Maybe he isn’t. Come to think of it, David has been talking about him less and less these last few months. Maybe this is his way of finally letting go. Maybe it will help him. And maybe, just maybe, she has been lying to herself and she is into Jack.

  He’s beautiful and kind and caring and amazing and— yeah, okay, she is into him. Sarah wraps her arms around David. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  She rests her head on David’s shoulder and can no longer see his face. He reciprocates the sideways hug with one arm and strokes her arm gently.

  “Would I lie to you?”

  “So what made you change your mind?”

  “I thought about it. Thought about you,” Sarah clarifies.

  Jack smirks smugly. “Oh yeah? Good thoughts?”

  She shoved him away playfully, though their hands are still intertwined as they walk down the sidewalk towards her house.

  The summer heat has yet to fade, though a few leaves crunch underfoot, and Sarah regrets the tee-shirt she chose. Jack has seen her in all sorts of awkward states before — clothes clinging to her as she drips with water after being thrown in the pool, sick on the couch and wrapped in a blanket with used tissues surrounding her, even half-naked with the only a towel to cover her as she walks from the bathroom to her room after a shower — but considering this is their first date, she wishes she went with a tank top and avoided armpit stains.

  Jack doesn’t even mock her about it, which is a sign that he’s trying hard to be romantic — it seems like the bare minimum for romance but considering that not two weeks ago Jack flicked marinara sauce in her hair as they made dinner, she was impressed.

  “Should I come in? Hand you off to the parents? Be a proper gentleman?” he teases.

  “Shut up. You can come in, though. My brothers would be upset if you didn’t.”

  “It would be weird to come over and not see Davey.”

  “Right.” Sarah swallows uncomfortably. She has to stop being nervous about David. He said he was fine with this, and she trusts him more than anybody else in the world.

  Jack holds the door for her when they go inside, and Sarah isn’t sure if she is supposed to laugh or thank him.

  “I’m home!” she shouts.

  Les comes running and throws himself at Jack like he always does. “Jack!”

  “Les!”

  “I’m here too. You know, your sister?”

  Les shrugs as he clambers onto Jack’s back. Jack happily scoops him up from behind and helps him on.

  “Whatever. You’re not as fun.”

  “I give you piggyback rides too!” she counters. 

  “Mine are better. Sorry, Sarah, that’s just how it is. Your brother loves me more.”

  “Both of them,” Les jokes and it cuts Sarah like a knife.

  “Eh. I don’t really love either of them,” David says, coming down the stairs. “Actually, I’m pretty iffy on all three of you.”

  “Liar!” Jack shouts. “You know what we do to liars, Les?” 

  “We attack them!” Les roars like a dinosaur, and Jack charges at David. He screeches. Sarah doesn’t even try to stop it, just rolls her eyes and waits for the three of them to stop tickling each other on the floor. Mayer even walks in at one point and then walks right back out, a half fond, half exasperated look on his face. 

  “How was the date?” David asks from the bottom of the pile after about five minutes, all of them out of breath and dehydrated.

  Jack laughs. “It was fun, right, Sarah?”

  “Yeah. Lots of fun,” she confirms.

  “Good. Both of you, get off of me.” He pushes them away. “I have homework to do.”

  “Nerd.”

  “Delinquent.” There’s something beyond fondness in David’s voice when he calls Jack that. “I’ll be in my room if anyone needs me.” He kisses Sarah on the cheek and whispers, “When he leaves, come upstairs, and tell me everything.”

  Once Jack says hi and bye to her parents and detaches Les from his hip, Sarah walks him out. He holds her hand nervously and looks sweeter and more gentle than Sarah has ever seen him with someone he was dating. This face is usually reserved for David when he’s having a panic attack or a bad day and Crutchie at all times. She can’t help but lean in a little, eyes closed, and he meets her lips for a kiss — an innocent kiss that only lasts a few seconds, but a kiss nonetheless.

  “Was that okay?”

  Sarah shrugs. “Eh.”

  “Hey!” he exclaims defensively. He places a hand over his heart like he is offended. “I’m a great kisser.”

  “Well, you’ll have to prove it.”

  He leans in again and she stops him with a hand on his chest. “Some other time. I’ll see you in school?”

  “Course,” he replies. “Thanks for letting me take you out.”

  “Thanks for asking. Can I take you out next time?”

  “There’s a next time? Then sure.”

  “What, you expected me to not go out with you after I just said we’d kiss again?”

  Jack grins impishly. “I told you, Jacobs, I’m a good kisser. People don’t need to be dating me to want to experience it.”

  “You’re an ass.”

  “It’s true! I’m a catch!”

  Sarah rolls her eyes and shoos him away. 

  In David’s room, she tells him about their date.

  “I still can’t believe he took you rollerblading,” he comments with an eye roll. 

  “It was fun,” she defends.

  And it was. They were the only ones there besides some birthday party for a little kid that they felt bad for interrupting, and some of the little kids asked them to show them the moves they were doing. They laughed and danced around with a group of first graders watching them. Afterwards, they sat at a table with a sticky substance covering it — Sarah and Jack agreed that they preferred not knowing what it was — and split an order of greasy, overpriced fries.

  It was nice and not all that different from what they did as friends; the only difference was that David was absent.

  “I’m sure it was fun, but he’s a geek,” David says of Jack.

  “You’re a geek.”

  “I’m a nerd, there’s a difference,” he insists.

  She smiles and pats his cheek with an air of condescension. “You’re both.”

  “Hey! I am not!”

  Sarah raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms.

  He huffs and gives in. “Fine, so I am. I’m a geek. That’s why he’s my best friend.”

  David is disconcertingly quiet for the rest of the night. He doesn’t come downstairs when the rest of the family has ice cream, and Les’ bedtime story is a lot shorter than it normally is.

  Usually, the twins sit in the living room with their parents and talk until they go to bed. David always has something to say, but that night he only speaks when he gets up to leave.

  “Where are you going, kochanie?” their mother asks.

  “I’m going to take a bath,” he replies quietly and goes upstairs.

  Their parents exchange looks of deep concern. Sarah can see the weight of it in their eyes. Mayer and Esther love and like all of their children equally, but there’s no doubt that they spend the most time worrying about David. Sarah can’t blame them.

  David had shown signs of depression from a very young age. He rarely smiled as a baby and as a toddler he almost never initiated play. Sarah would always have to coax him into doing something, and even then he didn’t always participate. She has no memory of this, of course, but Esther and Mayer sat her down when she was nine and tried to explain her brother’s depression.

  Sarah remembers being both devastated and relieved. Devastated because of what David was going through and relieved because she finally understood, at least in the abstract. She had no idea that babies could even be depressed, but since then she has done ridiculous amounts of research on the subject.

  She thinks back to the first time David ever voluntarily spent time with someone outside of the members of his immediate family. The two of them met Jack on the first day of third grade, and the rest, as they say, is history. That memory usually brings her joy, but this time it just makes her feel queasy.

  Nobody speaks until they hear the water start running.

  “Sarah? Do you have any idea what’s going on with him?” Esther asks. 

 “No.” It isn’t entirely a lie. She honestly has no idea whether or not David’s demeanor has anything to do with Jack. Even if it does, is it because he’s upset or is it because he’s adjusting to his best friend and his sister dating? She ends up trying to ask him before she goes to bed, but he quickly gets frustrated. She leaves it alone for another day.

  At school Monday morning, Jack meets Sarah at her locker. “Morning.” He leans against the locker next to hers.

  “Hey. Don’t you usually go to David’s locker in the mornings?” 

  “I texted him,” he says. “Why? Is there something wrong with wanting to see my girl?”

  Sarah guffaws. “I’d roll my eyes, but I’m worried I’d do it so hard they’d fall out of my head. I’m not your girl. I’m nobody’s girl, actually.” 

  “Relax, I’m only joking. Do you really think I would try to claim you or whatever?”

  He has a point. This is the boy who caused an uproar the previous year because for picture day he wore a shirt that said “Respect Body Autonomy.” A couple of boys ripped the page he was on out of the yearbook and hung them around the school with some awful things written on them. Jack found the whole thing rather hysterical.

  “So…”

  “What do you want, Jack?” she asks, pretending to be exasperated.

  He smirks and holds out his hand. Sarah rolls her eyes, shuts her locker, and takes it. “You know how I feel about calling people basic… but you’re basic.”

  “Thanks very much, ma’am,” he replies innocently. “Come on, the bell’s gonna ring in like five minutes.”

  She allows herself to be dragged to the spot in the library where their friends sit every morning, much to the chagrin of the library assistants, but the librarian loves them so they get to stay. All of them are there, scattered around — some of them in chairs, others on the tables, and a few of them just standing around. Sarah can’t help but smile at her large group of friends. They’re ridiculous, they’re loud, and there are way too many of them, but they’re hers.

  “Good morning, guys,” Katherine greets. “Don’t you look cozy?”

  The boys wolf whistle and whoop until one of the assistants glares. 

  “We’re literally just holding hands. Are you all twelve?”

  Sarah turns her attention to David and notices him staring intently at her and Jack’s hands. She isn’t sure he is aware of it, but when she lets go, some of the tension leaves his shoulders.

  She sits down across from him. “Hey, boychik. What are you reading?” she asks, gesturing to what was in his hands.

  He holds it up for her to see and she frowns. Sarah has come to know David’s reading habits very well. He reads The Great Gatsby (his favorite) when he’s nostalgic or content, To Kill a Mockingbird when he’s mad at the world, any Jane Austen novel when he’s feeling romantic, The Picture of Dorian Grey when he’s feeling “especially gay” (his words), and only when he’s trying desperately to cheer himself up does he read from this particular category of books.

  “Whatcha reading about, Mouth?” Mush asks.

  “Nazi hunters.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the Nazis can go fuck themselves,” he says casually and goes back to reading. He does not participate in any other conversations that morning. When the bell rings, he puts the book carefully in his bag after using one of his favorite bookmarks to keep his page and hurries off to class, his head down.

  Sarah spends the rest of the day worried about David. That night, she waits until he is alone in his room to talk to him about it. Her parents asked her if she knows what is up with him at least three times each. She understands their anxiety, but the constant questions aren’t doing anything to help hers. She wishes her parents would notice that.

  David tells her to come in, and she sits down next to him and holds his hand. “Are you all right?”

  He tilts his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You’ve just seemed more down than usual today and yesterday.”

  “I’m okay,” he says with terribly faked enthusiasm.

  “David, is this about Jack? Because if it is, I can—”

  “No!” He laughs and pulls his hand away. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t care that you’re dating Jack? I’m happy for you guys!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. It’s nothing. I didn’t even notice I seemed that way.”

  “Maybe you need your medication adjusted,” she suggests. It isn’t like she expects him to never be depressed even if his medication is working perfectly, but if he didn’t even notice, he should probably talk to his doctor. 

  He gives her a tight-lipped smile. “Maybe.”

  “Do you want to do something with me? We haven’t hung out in a while.”

  “We went to the movies on Thursday.”

  “That’s a while for us.”

  “Sorry, I have homework.”

  She glances over at his wall where he hung his whiteboard. His neatly organized checklist of assignments indicates that everything due the next day is complete.

  “I want to study for my French test,” he modifies.

  “You’re fluent in French.”

  “Sarah… I’m depressed, okay? You just said it yourself.” It sounds an awful lot like an excuse. David has never avoided spending time with her before if he isn’t too depressed. Two minutes ago he said he isn’t, but now he is? 

  “And you denied it.”

  “I realized I am. I want to go to bed.”

  “It’s eight.”

  “I’m tired,” he says sternly, getting up and opening his dresser to emphasize his point. He doesn’t look at her as he fishes through it and throws pajamas on the bed.

  “I hate seeing you like this, neshama.”

  The drawer slams shut, and he spits, “Then close your eyes.”

  The rest of the week is a bit better. David apologizes for his behavior the next morning, and she is quick to forgive him. Nothing else like that happens, and Sarah hopes it will stay that way.

  Still, when he thinks nobody is looking he is sullen and withdrawn. Several times she catches him staring off into space at times when he normally would have been focused.

  On Saturday evening, she goes to Medda’s at Jack’s invitation. Having dinner at Medda’s as Jack’s girlfriend feels a lot different than having dinner at Medda’s as a friend. There are a bunch of reasons for this: one, Medda keeps looking between the two of them with concern, which Sarah hasn’t seen her do with any of Jack's previous dates; two, Race is practically glaring at them for some reason; three, Crutchie seems sad. They all make polite conversation, but it feels off. Jack doesn’t seem to notice.

  “So we’re going to the show together,” Jack is saying as he stabs at his salad. “They’re excited for us to come, right, Sarah?”

  “What? Oh, yeah, right.” She realizes he must be talking about the school concert several of their friends are performing in. “They seemed pretty excited, yeah. It should be fun.”

  “When’s Davey’s next performance?” Crutchie asks. “It’s been a while.”

  “I like those!” Smalls says.

  “That’s because you have a crush on him,” Race teases his little sister.

  “Do not!” she fights back.

  “Do too! You want to marry him.”

  “Antonio, stop antagonizing your sister,” Medda orders. “Do you know, Sarah?”

  She shrugs. “You know how he is. He doesn’t like the spotlight. He’ll probably be forced to soon, but I’m not sure when. But I’m sure if you asked he’d play for you, Smalls.”

  “Really?” The seven-year-old looks like Sarah just told her that Santa Claus is coming early.

  “Sure. He loves you.”

  “Would he teach me some piano?”

  She smiles. “You’d have to ask, but I’m sure he’d be happy to.”

  “Where is he tonight?” Medda asks.

  Jack and Sarah look at each other. Sarah expects him to answer.

  “You don’t know?”

  “I thought you did,” she says. “You were going to invite him.”

  “No, you were.”

  “Shit.”

  “Jack!” Medda scolds. “Not in front of your sister.”

  “Sorry, Ma,” he apologies. It sounds to Sarah like a reflex, as if this is a common interaction. Knowing the way both Jack and Race talk, Sarah wouldn’t be surprised if it is.

  “We didn’t invite him,” Jack continued. “We forgot.”

  Medda’s disappointment is obvious. “I see. Well, in the future, please be more careful.”

  “Sorry, Medda. He mentioned it this morning so I figured he was coming. Jack and I just had a miscommunication,” she explains. Feeling a little ashamed, Sarah looks down at her pasta to avoid making eye contact.

  That type of thing never happens, and she feels terrible about it. David is sensitive and is probably taking it personally. That or he didn’t think twice about it, which means he thinks it makes sense that he isn’t invited. That one hurts more.

  “Are you sure you didn’t invite him?”

  “Maybe. I’ll text him and ask where he is,” Jack says.

  “Don’t,” Medda says. “We’ve already started eating. It’s ruder now.”

  She turns to ask Crutchie about something, signaling the end of the conversation.

  When Sarah gets home, David is on his hands and knees, cleaning the tub in the bathroom they share with Les.

  “What are you doing?”

  He startles. “Oh. Hey, Saz. How was dinner?”

  “Fine. What are you doing?”

  “Uh, cleaning?”

  “It’s my turn to clean the bathroom,” she points out.

  Doing extra chores. Not a great sign. David likes to clean when especially stressed or trying to avoid thinking about something. Sarah gets on edge whenever she sees him cleaning unnecessarily.

  David shrugs. “It needed to be done, and you were busy tonight so I figured I’d get it done and maybe take a bath.”

  “Oh. Well, do you want help?”

  “I’m almost done. Thanks, though.”

  “Do you want me to tell Aba not to run the dishwasher so that you can take your bath?” Sarah is grasping at straws, trying to find some way to alleviate her guilt. She spent the night having fun with their friends while

David did chores.

  “That’s okay. I’m probably not going to,” he says as if the opposite had not come out of his mouth seconds earlier. “I might just go to sleep.”

  “Right. I can read to Les if you want? He should go to bed soon anyway.”

  From the time he was a toddler, Les has always asked his siblings to read him a bedtime story. It's a habit that never went away. Les, it seems, will never stop being the baby of the family.

  “Sorry.” He cringes. “I kinda did that already? I’m sorry! I didn’t realize what time you’d be home, and he was super tired. I thought you guys would watch a movie or something.”

  “We thought about it, but I wanted to get home.”

  He smiles. “Cool. Okay, I’m going to spray the bleach stuff so you should leave if you don’t want to get a headache.”

  “Right. I’ll open the window for you.” At least that’s something she can do.

  She lies in bed, staring at the ceiling for a long time. Something is going on with David. He insists it isn’t her dating Jack, so what is it then? Sarah falls into an uneasy sleep, determined to get to the bottom of it.

  “Why are you putting earrings on?” Les asks Sarah, standing in her doorway.

  “I usually wear earrings.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t change them in the middle of the day.”

  “I’m going on a double date with Jack and Crutchie and his new girlfriend, and I like these more.”

  “Gross.” Les wanders off. 

  Sarah is very excited to meet Crutchie’s girlfriend. None of their friends know her, but he is constantly gushing about her lately. At first, David joined in on the teasing all of their friends did, but not so much those last few weeks. She frowns at the thought.

  The doorbell rings.

  “I’ll get it!” David calls, already halfway down the stairs. Sarah gets her bag and follows him.

  “Jack! I didn’t know you were coming over. Want to study for math?” he asks. He sounds ecstatic, too.

  Sarah cringes. 

  “Sorry, Dave, I’m here for your sister.”

  David turns and she waves awkwardly. “Oh. Cool. You look nice, Saz. Where are you guys going?”

  “We’re going to get food with Crutchie and Amber,” she tells him, “and then we’re all seeing the new Star Wars.”

  “You are?” David croakes. “I thought…”

  “You thought what, Dave?”

  “I thought the three of us were going to see it together.”

  Fuck, he’s right. To Sarah, any plans seemed tentative, but now that she thinks about it, it was implied months ago that they would be going together, and she should know that David is looking forward to it. Besides, they saw every other new one as a trio. Jack must realize this too because he looks very guilty.

  “Shit, I’m sorry, Dave.”

  “Me too. It just slipped my mind.”

  David smiles, but his eyes are dull. “That’s okay.”

  “Are you sure?” Jack asks.

  “Yeah, of course,” he says, nodding. “I think Les said he and his friend Johnny wanted to see it, so I’ll take them or something. No big deal. Go have fun.”

  “David, if you don’t want us to—”

  “Go!” He laughs. “Seriously, it’s fine. It’s just a movie.”

  “Right. Just a movie.”

  Sarah registers Jack’s gaze only leaving David after he disappears from sight. 

  It’s Sarah and Jack’s six week anniversary and because they think it’s ridiculous to celebrate six weeks, they’re purposefully not going out tonight. A bunch of the annoying girls at school who pretend to like Sarah now because they think Jack is hot — the same girls who openly mock David and refuse to believe Jack is bi no matter how many times he tells them — keep asking what their plans are for their six week anniversary. They are appalled when Sarah says she doesn’t think they are doing anything. Now the lack of plans is mostly out of spite, and that suits Sarah and Jack just fine. Jack spends the evening playing video games with his brothers, and Sarah goes home to read.

  Every light in the house is off when she enters, and her mother quickly meets her by the door. “David is getting a migraine,” she whispers. Because if something is wrong with David, it seems like everything in the house shuts down. 

  “Is he okay?”

  “Aba’s with him, don't worry. He’s in bed.”

  “What does—”

  “Just a headache so far. He’s all right,” she assures and hugs her daughter.

  “Was it triggered by something?”

  “I don’t know. He’s been so sad lately. Taking all those baths and going to bed early all the time. This was inevitable.”

  Sarah nods. David has been spiraling for weeks and they all knew a migraine was imminent, even David. He gets them when he is too stressed or anxious or depressed.

  “Where’s Les?”

  “I sent him to Johnny’s house. His mother said he could spend the night.” 

  “Okay. Should I go and—”

  “Yeah.”

  Sarah slips her shoes off and carefully makes her way up the carpeted stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. She stands in the doorway to David’s room and waits for their father to notice her. Mayer is sitting on the bed whispering to David.

  Her brother’s eyes are covered with a damp cloth, and she wants to cry. She hates seeing David in pain, and covering his eyes is a sign that the headache is bad or getting there. Normally, David would hate the texture of the cloth on his face. His migraine must be quickly becoming awful if he is willing to deal with it for a little reprieve.

  Her father looks at her and whispers something to David, then waves her in.

  “Hi, boychik,” she whispers, kneeling down beside him. “How is it so far?”

  “Mm. Like a six.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?” She stray hairs off his forehead.

  “You probably wanted to have Jack over tonight or something. I didn’t mean to ruin that.” 

  “Shh.” She knows it hurts him to talk so much. “Don’t be ridiculous. I wasn’t going to anyway, but if I was it doesn’t matter.” She kisses his temple. “Just rest.” Sarah makes as if to stand, but David reaches for her hand. 

  “Are you happy?”

  Sarah takes a second before responding. “What do you mean?”

  “With Jack. Does he make you happy?”

  She has no idea how she’s supposed to answer. She asks herself the same question she has at least a hundred times in the last two months: is David upset about her dating Jack? He keeps saying he isn’t, and she gave up asking him about it weeks ago. Is he just checking in on her? Why would he be doing that right now?

  She is happy, and if she says otherwise it might worry David. She squeezes his hand and tells him honestly, “Yes. I’m very happy.”

  He swallows, his throat bobbing. “Good. I love you.”

  “I love you too. Try to sleep.”

  She must be imagining the tear rolling down his cheek as she walks away, or if she isn’t, it must be from the migraine.

  “Are you feeling any better?” she asks in a hushed voice the next morning when she brings him some toast. He can’t stomach much when he has a migraine — the pain is so bad he sometimes gets physically sick — but he still has to eat.

  He nods and then grimaces. “A little. Thanks.”

  “You have to eat at least a little,” she says, setting the plate down on the nightstand. “You need something in your stomach.”

  “I took my medicine with juice.”

  Sarah rolls her eyes. “That doesn’t count. Is it dark enough?”

  “Not really, but how would you make it darker? You can’t dim the sun.”

  “I could cover the windows with black paper or something like they do with the doors at school?”

  “No thanks,” he responds. “The curtains are already drawn; nothing is going to make it much better.”

  She perches at the edge of his bed and takes his hand. After a minute of silence in which she strokes the back of his hand as he breathes evenly, possibly on the verge of sleep, Sarah blurts out, “What’s been going on lately?”

  David sighs. “Saz, not now.”

  “We tell each other everything and it’s been weeks since—”

  “I know, but not now. Please. Talking hurts as it is.” It sounds like an excuse.

  “All right.” Sarah nods reluctantly. “I’ll go wet your towel again.”

  “Thank you. You’re the greatest sister.”

  He often says that and she often replies with an obnoxious “I know,” but when she says it this time, she can’t muster half the enthusiasm with which she usually says it.

  Almost a week later David still refuses to talk to her about whatever it is that has been bothering him or given any indication that it still is. In fact, he seems mostly back to normal. His migraines never last more than two days and he attends school every day since, so Sarah figures he must be fine. He says he is, at least — although with David that doesn’t mean much.

  Her notion that everything is okay shatters Thursday evening when she gets back from Jack’s. It’s after ten and she knows Les is asleep, so she goes upstairs as quietly as possible. As she goes to enter her room, she notices that David’s door is open even though the lights are off. Thinking he fell asleep with it open accidentally, she moves to close it for him. Instead of sleeping in his bed, he sits there, sobbing silently in the dark, their mother holding him and their father rubbing his back.

  She opens her mouth to ask what’s happening, but Esther notices her and gives her the saddest look Sarah has ever received from either of her parents. 

  “I’ll be right back, boychik,” Esther whispers and shifts him into Mayer’s waiting arms. She points sharply down the hall and Sarah rushes into her room. Her mother practically slams the door shut behind her.

  “Ima, what’s going on? Why is he crying? Is it because of me? What did I do?”

  “Do you really not know?” She looks at Sarah with something bordering on pity in her eyes.

  “No. Is he crying because of me?” she repeats, her heartbreaking.

  “No,” Esther says softly, “not because of you.”

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  Esther stares for a moment, searching Sarah’s face for something. Then she shakes her head. “Just give him space tonight, yes?”

  Sarah spends an hour lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. At some point, David’s weeping stops being silent, and she considers putting headphones on and blasting music to block it out, but the idea of ignoring her brother’s pain in any way hurts too much.

  She doesn’t know what she should do, but she needs to do something — anything — to help. Sarah has never not been there to help comfort him before or been asked to give him space. She is always there with her parents, whispering reassurances and hugging him, just as he does for her — always. But now she is unwanted.

Jack

10:14 PM

What do you normally do when David’s sad?

  She receives a response almost immediately. Jack is notoriously bad at responding to texts in a timely manner.

  Sometimes she thinks he has a sixth sense that lets him know when David needs him.

What’s wrong?

He’s been crying for a while and my mom told me to stay out of the room

Wtf

I know. I’m worried

Should I text or call him

He won’t see it

Should I come over

  Sarah bites her lip. Her parents and David are never upset if she tells Jack about this type of thing, but they also never bar her from the room and that happened. Maybe they will be mad, but in the long run it will be better for them to be a little pissed at her and have Jack to comfort David, right?

Would you mind?

Never

I’ll be there in fifteen

Thank you

 She sits in anticipation by the front door until he arrives. She tells herself it’s so she can let Jack in, but it’s really because she cannot bear to hear David crying anymore. Her poor brother must be exhausted. Crying took a lot out of anyone and David especially. He will have to stay home from school tomorrow, she knows, and will probably sleep through most of the weekend.

  Jack pounds on the door and she opens it.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi. He’s upstairs?”

  “Yeah.”

  He kisses her cheek and rushes up to David’s room, Sarah close behind. He knocks gently and Mayer opens the door. For a moment, her father looks pained, but then he puts on a forced smile.

  “David, Jack’s here to see you.”

  She doesn’t hear any crying after that and counts it as a win.

  She ends up being right. David sleeps for most of the weekend and he stays home from school on Friday, too exhausted to move. He forces himself out of bed Saturday morning and almost falls asleep during service. Five different people come up to Sarah afterwards to ask if he’s sick.

  Saturday night, after almost a full day of not seeing him, she knocks on his door.

  “Yeah?” he replies sleepily.

  “It’s me, neshama. Can I come in?”

  “Sure.”

  The lamp on his nightstand is on, and he’s reading. He reaches for a bookmark when she comes in.

  “What’re you reading?”

  “Just a book for school. What’s up?”

  “Can I sit?”

  He nods, and she settles down on the edge of his bed near where his knees are under the covers. The rings around his eyes are a lot more defined than they normally are, and if she didn’t know any better, Sarah would say he has the flu based on the color of his complexion.

  “How are you feeling?”

  He shrugs. “Fine. Better.”

  “I was wondering if—”

  “Why did you text Jack?”

  “What?” The question is unexpected.

  “Why did you tell him to come over?”

  “Because he always makes you feel better. Was I wrong?” she asks. “Should I not have done that?”

  “No, I don’t mean— Whatever. I was just curious.” He gives her something she thinks is meant to be a smile. 

  “David—”

  “I was just curious,” he repeats, making it crystal clear that that particular line of conversation is over.

  “Okay.” She moves on for his sake.

  “I’m tired. I have to sleep.”

  “Oh. You want me to leave?”

  “Mm. Sorry.” He lays his head on the pillow. “Love you.”

  Feeling confused and more than a little hurt, Sarah leaves.

  Jack asks Sarah to homecoming in the most obnoxious style possible. As she walks through the school commons, he swings down from the main office’s balcony on a rope tied to the railing and descends in front of her. She shrieks (it startles the living shit out of her), and then all of their friends surround them after he asks, yelling at her to say yes. She rolls her eyes and tries to look annoyed but laughs through the whole thing.

  “Fine, yes, I’ll go with you, you idiot.” She lets him kiss her but pulls away before it gets heated. They are, after all, at school.

  “How the fuck did you not fall and die?”

  “I had a genius make sure it was safe with architecture and physics and shit.” He points to the balcony.

  Her brother is standing there and he waves shyly when Jack points him out. She waves back, and he scurries off. Jack’s eyes are full of affection and something Sarah might call longing if she didn’t know any better. 

  “Wonder what’s up with him,” Jack says idly. “Okay, we gotta coordinate outfits.”

  “I hate you.”

  “Why do I have to come?”

  “Because you like driving.”

  “I like driving when I’m alone or when I’m with you. The point is that I can relax,” David says, “and this isn’t relaxing.”

  “Please, David?” She puts on her best pleading look. “You know I hate shopping and I really want your opinion. Please? Don’t you want to be a good little brother?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Fine, but I’m not your little brother and don't say I never do anything for you.”

  “Thank you!”

  She is grateful that David has agreed to accompany her and Katherine to buy homecoming dresses. Neither of them are big into the whole idea of school dances, but Sarah is excited to go with Jack, and Katherine has to go for the newspaper anyway.

  “Just because I’m the editor-in-chief now doesn’t mean I don’t have to take my turn doing assignments nobody wants to do,” she told Sarah earlier that week.

  David sits outside the dressing rooms and reads his book while they try things on.

  “How about this one?” she asks, coming out in a long, pale blue dress.

  He looks up. “You look beautiful.”

  “You can’t say the same thing every time,” she huffs.

  “What do you want from me? You’re my sister! Of course I think you look beautiful!”

  She smiles and moves forward to kiss his cheek. “You’re sweet, but a little more criticism would be nice.”

  “Yeah,” Katherine says, exiting the dressing room herself, “can’t you put your gay skills to use?”

  He rolls his eyes. “First of all, I’m bi, not gay; second, that’s a stereotype.”

  “I’m joking, Davey,” she explains, smiling all the while. “I don’t actually think that, and I’m bi too.”

  He probably knows that she was joking, but David is hard to read. Even Sarah gets confused about what he thinks sometimes.

  He nods. “I like that purple on you, Katherine, but the bottom is a little frilly. Sarah, if you’re going to dance, shouldn’t it be a little shorter? You’re clumsy and you’ll trip.”

  “See? That’s helpful. Thank you.”

  “Happy to help.” He goes back to his book.

  “So what are your homecoming plans, David?” Katherine asks once they’re back in their respective dressing rooms.

  “I don’t have any. It’ll be a normal Saturday night for me.”

  Sarah frowns. “You aren’t going with our friends?”

  “No. Everyone is going as part of a couple this year. Those of us who aren’t in relationships paired off to go as a couple but platonically.”

  “Oh. But you didn’t?” Katherine asks.

  Sarah practically hears his patented David Jacobs shrug. “Odd number, and I told them I didn’t want to go anyway, which is true. If I had a date, I might, but… I’m not really interested.”

  “I’d invite you to go with me, but I’ll be doing stuff for the newspaper all night.”

  “No worries. Ima and Aba are taking Les to Aunt Muriel’s for the evening, so I’ll have the place to myself. It’ll be nice. I can watch what I want without being judged.”

  “Wait, what?” Sarah exclaims. “How’d you get out of going to Aunt Muriel’s? If I didn’t have homecoming I wouldn’t have!”

  David laughs. “There are perks to her hating me. Ima and Aba don’t want to force me to go, and she won’t care if I’m not there.”

  “Lucky.”

  “I go every once in a while, give her a chance to berate me, that sort of thing.”

  Sarah rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she says, adjusting her bra so that it stays out of sight in this new dress. “Teach me your ways.”

  “Of how to get her to hate you? Step one: be neurodivergent. Step two: not be able to stop fidgeting. Step three: not be able to always control what you say. Do that for almost eighteen years and then you can get out of it.” He says it all cheerfully.

  “You’re the worst.”

  “Luckily for me, Aunt Muriel agrees.”

  “Is she really that bad?” Katherine asks. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about her?”

  Sarah hears her door click open.

  “You’re not going to be able to dance in that,” David comments. “Yeah,” he continues, “she’s the worst. The only times I can ever deal with her are when Jack is around. For some reason, she loves him.”

  “If I were going to homecoming with anybody else, missing a visit with her would be a whole thing, but since it’s Jack, she’s fine with it,” Sarah elaborates.

  “I’ll hand it to him,” Katherine says, “he’s charming.”

  “Until you get to know him.”

  “You’re talking about your boyfriend, right now.”

  “Yeah, that’s how I know. Anyway, she likes him.”

  Sarah thinks back to a time when she was much younger, probably ten or eleven, and Aunt Muriel was visiting. Sarah remembers her yelling at David about something he said, Mayer yelling back at her, and David running out of the room. She found him under his bed, Jack next to him, making him laugh through his tears.

  She remembers thinking how perfect they were as a pair and then, a few years later, how perfect they might be as a couple. She thinks of all the times David sat on her bed and said the same thing over and over again.

  “That’s the one for me.”

  She is drawn back to the present. “What?”

  “That dress,” he clarifies. “If it were me, I’d pick that one. You look gorgeous, Sarah.”

  “Oh.” She smiles. “Thanks, neshama. Yeah, I like it a lot.”

  “But you don’t love it?” he asks. He looks so disappointed.

  Sarah laughs. “I do! I love it a lot… though maybe not as much as you do,” she concedes. “I’ll get this one.”

  Homecoming night itself is a lot of fun. Their team lost the game earlier in the afternoon, which surprises exactly no one. Sarah is having a good time dancing with Jack and their other friends, but when a slow song comes on, the two of them find themselves laughing their way through it.

  “I don’t think we’re really a slow dance type of couple,” Jack comments. 

  “Me neither.”

  “You look real nice doing it though.”

  She scoffs.

  “I’m serious! You’re beautiful, Jacobs.”

  “Thanks, Jack. You’re beautiful too.” She rests her head on his shoulder for a moment, but it feels unnatural and she stands up straight again. “How long did you like me for before you asked me out?”

  He shrugs. “Most of the summer. You can ask Davey, I wouldn’t stop rambling about you.”

  “David knew?”

  “Course. He’s my best friend.” He spins her.

  “It just never occurred to me that he knew a few months before I did.”

  “Yeah, he’s real good at keeping a secret.”

  “Why is it that we always end up talking about him?” she asks. 

  Jack chuckles. “Not sure. He’s my best friend and your brother, so it makes sense. All right, no more David talk for the rest of the night. Tonight’s all about you and me.”

  Sarah is more than fine with that idea. 

  Jack is an idiot and he forgets his wallet at her house one day. Sarah offers to swing by the theater to drop it off.

  “You’re a life-saver, Sarah Jacobs.”

  “I know.” She flips her hair, and he laughs. “Next time, don’t be stupid.”

  “No promises.”

  On her way out, Sarah stops to say hi to Medda.

  “I talked to David about maybe getting some piano lessons,” Medda mentions.

  “For Smalls?”

  “Yeah. I offered him what I thought was a fair rate, but he refused to take it! Says he’ll teach her for free.” Medda huffs. 

  “I’m not surprised,” Sarah tells her. “You guys are family, and he’d never charge family.”

  “He’s selfless, more like. That boy would do anything for anyone, especially anybody he loves,” she says. “Did you know that two weeks ago I double-booked by mistake so he offered to bring her to swim lessons while I went to rehearsals? I didn’t realize it until Jack told me later, but he missed a lecture he wanted to watch that was being streamed at the same time.” She shakes her head. “He’s too nice sometimes.” 

  Sarah suddenly feels extremely uncomfortable for a reason she cannot discern.

  “Yeah,” she replies for lack of anything better to say. “Yeah, he is.”

  “Anyway, I’m paying him for those lessons whether he likes it or not.”

  “He really does love any excuse to play piano.” It isn’t that she doesn’t want David being paid, but she knows that he would want her to say that.

  “I know but still. One of these days I’ll convince him to let me hire him to play in one of my shows.”

  “Good luck. Although with a Steinway like that, you might be able to.” She gestures to the piano on the other side of the room.

  “True enough. He’s a sucker for it. I remember when he was thirteen and we’d just met, he was in here with Jack one day while I got some work done in the office. I came out when I heard him playing. He wouldn’t stop apologizing.” She laughs at the memory. “I made him sit down and play for me again. Jack wouldn’t stop gushing about how talented he was and he was right. Thank goodness he isn’t so nervous about it anymore.”

  Sarah smiles. “I’m pretty sure that if he knew how, he’d sneak in here at night and play it.”

  “No need to sneak; I’ll give him a key.”

  Her smile turns soft as she puts a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “You’re a good sister to him, Sarah.”

  “Thanks. He’s a good brother to me.”

  “I mean it. He’s struggled a lot — you both have — but you’re always there for him. I wish my kids had that when they were younger. You’d never do anything to hurt him on purpose.”

  “Medda?” It sounds to Sarah like she’s trying to convince herself of something. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she lies — and what an obvious lie it is. “I should get back. We open next week and nothing’s right.”

  Sarah decides it’s best to let her off the hook. She takes Medda’s lead and moves on. “Isn’t that always how it is a week before?”

  “Yeah, but if I don’t do something about it, it doesn’t change.”

  “Right. Well, I’ll tell David what you said about Smalls,” she offers, walking up the aisle towards the door as she speaks.

  “Please do. Let me know if either of you need anything.”

  Sarah looks back, but Medda is already talking to somebody else. She gets the feeling that they just had two very different conversations.

  Sarah’s parents aren’t idiots. They know that their two older children use their phones while they’re in school. Knowing it does not, however, mean that they have to like it. That’s why when Sarah’s phone rings during her walk to English and she finds that her mother is calling, she’s concerned.

  “Ima?”

  “Sarah, kochanie, can you meet Aba at the main office?”

  “Wait, he’s at the school?”

  Katherine, who’s walking with her, looks at her with confusion and concern.

  “David was hurt again,” her mother says. She sounds close to tears.

  “What?” Her heart skips a beat. “What happened?”

  “Those boys — those Delancey boys and their friends — they hurt him.”

  “Katherine and I are on our way, Ima.”

  She pulls her friend in the opposite direction of where they were going.

  “What happened?” she asks.

  “The Delancey brothers and their squad of assholes got David again.”

  “Fuck. Should I call Jack?”

  Sarah hesitates. He was so weird about it the last time she did that. It was almost like he didn’t want Jack to know he was upset. Does he feel similarly about it this time?

  “I don’t know. Let’s wait and see.”

  Katherine seems reluctant to agree but says nothing.

  Her father is standing in front of the seat David is in, so all Sarah can see is his bag on the seat next to him. She desperately wants to see his face and know that he’s okay. When Sarah and Katherine enter the main office, what they see in front of them is far from reassuring.

  David is hunched in on himself (though whether from injury or embarrassment is unclear), his eyes are pointed down, his glasses are crooked, and he has tissues in his nostrils — the blood on his upper lip proves them necessary. His bruised right eye doesn’t look so hot either.

  “David!” She runs forward and kneels in front of him. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “He’s not fine,” her father says, “he’s concussed.”

  “It’s really okay, Aba.”

  “Oh, Davey,” Katherine says. “What happened?”

  He shrugs. “I had my eyes down and Oscar and Morris and their gang of idiots and nerdowells got me. Morris said I bumped into him, but he stepped in front of me when I wasn’t paying attention so that I would. He didn’t try to hide it that much.”

  “Do you want ice for your eye?”

  “No thanks, Katherine. The nurse already had me ice it. I’ll be okay for another hour or so.”

  Mayer sighs. “That isn’t what the nurse told you, nor is it what you’ve been told a thousand times before. Twenty minutes on twenty minutes off.”

  “I’ll do it when I get home.”

  Katherine takes his hand. “Why don’t you go home now?”

  “The principal wants to speak with me,” Mayer says, “and he can’t drive in this state. Sarah, would you pick up Les after school for me?”

  “Sure.”

  “I am perfectly capable of—”

  “Davey!” Jack bursts into the office. “What the fuck did they do to you? I’m gonna kill ’em.”

  David rolls his eyes. “I’m fine. How did you know?”

  “Hot Shot saw you in the hallway on your way here and unlike three idiots I know—” he gives each of his friends significant looks “—she decided to do the not stupid thing and tell me.”

  David gives him a small smile. “I’m really fine. You can all go back to class if you want.”

  “You should,” Mayer says. “David will be okay. I’m going to take him home, and his mother and I will watch over him.”

  David blushes slightly. Sarah and Katherine each kiss his cheek and make to leave, but Jack speaks up.

  “No. I’m not leaving.” His determination is clear. 

  “Jack—”

  “I’m not! I won’t leave you. I’ll come home with you and I’ll watch over you.”

  “That’s really sweet, but you can’t miss school.”

  “Medda won’t care.”

  Mayer sighs. “Jack, you need to stay here.”

  “I won’t. If you won’t let me stay with him, I’ll cut anyway.”

  He frowns. “Fine.”

  “Aba, no. He needs—”

  “Let him, David,” Sarah encourages. After the previous few weeks of David being so down, maybe it will make him feel better to have his best friend show an unnecessary amount of concern.

  Her brother nods. “Okay. Thank you, Jackie.”

  “Course, Dave. What are friends for?”

  When Sarah gets home with Les, she goes directly to David’s room. To her utter delight, she hears laughter. Jack and David are on his bed, watching something on David’s laptop. She smiles fondly.

  “Hey, boys.”

  David pauses it. “Hey, Saz.”

  “Hey, Sarah.”

  “How are you feeling, boychik?”

  He tilts his hand back and forth.

  “Not great but not terrible?” she surmises.

  “Yeah.”

  “We had kosher ice cream, though, so that makes everything better.”

  David rolls his eyes. “How many times do I have to say that almost all ice cream sold in the United States is kosher?”

  “So what you’re saying is I’m right?”

  “Whatever.”

  Jack is looking at David like he is the most important thing in the world.

  “What flavor?” Sarah asks. “What’re you watching?”

  Jack looks at her with incredulity. “It’s David, Sarah. What do you think? Cookies and cream and The West Wing.”

  “Move over.”

  The next day, Sarah catches David crying over a painting Jack gave him for his sixteenth birthday. She leaves before he can know that she is there. She spends the rest of the day wondering what about a painting of himself and Crutchie made him cry.

  “Come in,” Sarah says when someone knocks on her door. It creaks open, and she puts her laptop down on the nightstand. “Hey, boychik. What’s up?”

  “Why’s David mad at me?” Les asks.

  “What? I’m sure he’s not mad at you. Come here.” Her little brother curls up next to her on the bed. “What happened?”

  “I tried to get David to play video games with me, but he said no, and I asked why not, and he said ‘Because,’ and he never says stuff like that! So I told him he was being mean, and he told me to leave him alone. He said he didn’t want to play with me, and he’d rather be alone and that he didn’t have time for me,” he explains sadly. “What did I do? Why doesn’t he want to play with me?”

  Sarah sighs. On top of everything else, David has been a lot snippier and biting lately. She’s

starting to get well and truly concerned. She’s seriously considering sitting down with her parents and telling them about it. She would have already, had it not been obvious that they already know. It’s getting to the point, however, that they need to verbalize it and, hopefully, find a way to help David.

  “I’m sure it’s not you, boychik. He’s not feeling well lately, and it makes him harder to get along with, and he’s quick to anger, but it isn’t you, I promise.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think his depression is a lot worse than it was a few months ago. His anxiety too. I guess he’s had a harder time than normal at school lately.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure,” she admits. 

  “If you don’t know then it could be me!” he cries.

  “Hey.” She kisses his forehead. “Don’t you think that for a second. David loves you more than anything or anyone on Earth.”

  “What about you?”

  She smiles. “Fine. He loves us more than anything or anyone on Earth.”

  “And Jack.”

  There is a lump in her throat when she says, “And Jack. It has nothing — nothing — to do with you, okay?”

  Les nods.

  “It’s not an excuse for being rude to you, but it’s an explanation. I’m sure he’ll apologize later.” Sarah will make sure of it.

  “Okay. Can I stay here for a while?”

  “You can always stay here, boychik. Why don’t you pick out a book from the shelf, and I’ll read it to you? What about the book we were reading yesterday?”

  “It’s in David’s room,” he tells her, pouting.

  “That’s okay. We’ll read something else. Pick another book.”

  “You hurt Les’ feelings.”

  David yelps. She didn’t knock before opening the door. She’s angry — more concerned really, but she tries to mask it with anger because he hates concern more — and he is going to know it.

  “Sarah! What the hell?”

  “You hurt Les’ feelings.”

  “By saying I didn’t want to play video games?” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Hey!” she snapped. “Don’t be so dismissive of our little brother’s feelings. If I did that you’d be pissed. Besides, you know that’s not it.”

  He sighs and turns back to the notebook in which he

takes notes for his history class. She slams the textbook next to it shut on his desk.

  “Hey!”

  “What’s the agreement we made when Aba was laid off?”

  “He’s back at work and we’re financially stable.”

  “It wasn’t just about that. What was the fucking agreement, David?”

  He sighs again and leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “That we’d make sure Les felt important and loved no matter what. I don’t see how me being in a bad mood changes any of that!”

  “It’s not just a bad mood, though! You’ve been like this for weeks. We also said we’d never make him feel like he was a burden. Don’t you think that’s what you made him feel like when you told him you didn’t have time for him?”

  “Whatever,” he says, though she can see how ashamed he is.

  Sarah deflates. Somewhere along the way her for-show anger turned to real anger, and she got carried away.

  She closes her eyes and runs a hand over her face, exhausted. “I’m sorry,” she says.

  “No, you’re right. I’ll apologize to him.”

  “I appreciate it, but I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just so worried about you, boychik.” She kisses his forehead and watches his eyes shut. She thinks he might only be a minute away from crying and honestly hopes he is. Maybe he will finally open up to her if he does. “You’ve been so distant lately. Nothing I do seems to help.”

  He opens his eyes as she leans back and doesn’t even scold her for half-sitting on his desk. “You can’t always help,” he says. “That’s not how it works.”

  “But you’ve been avoiding me.”

  “I haven’t,” he insists.

  “Then why have—”

  And suddenly his anger has returned. “Jesus Christ, Sarah, will you stop pushing?”

  She takes a step back, both figuratively and literally. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “I’m sorry my behavior lately has made you unhappy, but it’s not all about you! Sometimes you just have to leave me the fuck alone.”

  He never curses at her. Never.

  “David—”

  “No, let me finish!” He stands. “I get to be angry or distant or whatever I want to be! Stop making me feel bad for having feelings! You say you’re worried when I hide them, but then you get like this when I’m honest!”

  “Yeah, well, it doesn’t feel like you’re being honest,” she snaps. “What did I do to deserve your anger?”

  “I wasn’t angry with you until this very minute!”

  “But—”

  “Stop!” He falls back into his chair and cradles his head in his hands. “Just…get out.”

  “David—”

  “Leave.” He looks up. “Please, Sarah?”

  She nods, unsure of what happened, and retreats to her room where she stays for the rest of the night.

  “So.”

  “So,” David echoes.

  It’s the next morning and they’re awkwardly moving about the kitchen at six thirty. David always gets up early, but Sarah simply wasn’t able to sleep. She heard David come downstairs and followed.

  She leans against the counter as he makes his coffee.

  “Look,” he begins, “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

  “I’m sorry I berated you like that.”

  “Well, I overreacted.”

  “So did I.”

  They look at each other and laugh. Sarah pulls him into a hug.

  “I love you, neshama,” she says. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I just want to help you.”

  He shakes his head and buries it in her shoulder. “You can’t,” he breathes, barely audible. “You can’t.”

  “Do you want to—”

  “No,” he cuts her off before she can offer a listening ear once again. “Maybe you were right that I should call my doctor.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll talk to Ima and Aba later, I just… I need you to leave it alone for a little while, okay? It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s that I don’t know how to articulate it. There… I mean, there isn’t really anything to tell, you know?”

  She isn’t confident that he’s telling the truth, but she isn’t about to contradict him and start another fight.

  “Okay, boychik. Okay.”

  David speaks to his doctor, and though Sarah isn’t sure if they had changed anything with his medication, he seems a little better to her a week or so later. Sarah thinks some time out might do him some good. She and Jack invite him to join them when they go to a football game at the school.

  None of them are huge football fans in general, but they have friends on the team, and so they try to go as much as possible. David doesn’t go as often because the crowds are too big for him, but he does on occasion.

  “Is this great weather or what?” Jack comments as they settle in on the freezing cold bleachers.

  “What,” David says. “It’s cold and windy, and I think it might rain.”

  “Relax, Dave. You’ve got your sweatshirt, your jacket, and your hood’s up. You’re fine.”

  “I have those things because I’m cold!”

  Sarah rolls her eyes but enjoys her boyfriend and brother bickering. It’s comfortable and familiar, something she hasn’t had a lot of lately. Sarah loves dating Jack, she really does, but the dramatic shift in dynamic was odd. The three of them haven’t spent time together outside of school in weeks unless they are in a larger group, and before Sarah and Jack became a couple they did it all the time.

  “I didn’t say that!” David is in the midst of arguing. “I said that that’s how it might work in theory.”

  “I’m just saying, it don’t add up. How could someone have someone else’s memories?”

  “I don’t know, but that’s what some people think!”

  “So just because of that you don’t think people should teleport?”

  Clearly Sarah missed the beginning of yet another stupid debate when she zoned out.

  “I’m saying even if we had the technology,” David continues, “we don’t know that whoever ended up on the other side of the teleportation would be the same person who went in. If…”

  Sarah zones out again. It’s nice to hear it, but she doesn’t want to deal with the discussion itself. The best part is that she knows there is a ninety percent chance that Jack doesn’t care either. In most cases, in fact, he either doesn’t care or is on David’s side, but he likes to egg him on. Jack knows that David likes debate, and he wants to give him somebody to debate with. He once told her that if it makes David happy, he will debate about things he doesn’t care about for the rest of his life.

  Lately, memories Sarah used to think of fondly make her feel queasy. She wonders why.

  “Look who we have here!” Morris Delancey announces as he trots up to them, Oscar at his side. “If it isn’t Jack Kelly with Sarah Jacobs and her special brother. Look out, Jacobs,” he tells David, “seems like your boyfriend’s got a girlfriend. You’re not gonna believe who it is, either.”

  “Fuck off, Delancey,” Sarah says as casually as she can manage.

  “Aw, that isn’t very nice.”

  “She said beat it,” Jack spits.

  “What—” Oscar bends down to be face-to-face with David, who was pointedly avoiding their eyes up until that moment “—no comment from Dr. Spasy?”

  “Don’t call me that,” David says.

  “Why not?”

  “First of all, I don’t have a doctorate, so it would be Mr. Spasy.”

  Sarah laughs. David is very good at throwing off the people who pick on him. On the other hand, he has an impressive ability to hide how their words affect him, which, while good in the moment, isn’t great afterwards. Still, she laughs because it’s surprising and a little funny, and she wants to support him.

  “You’re an idiot, Jacobs.”

  “I am? Then why did you think I was a doctor?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Morris spits. “Fucking retard.”

  “Don’t talk to him like that,” Jack demands, “or I swear to god, you’ll be going down these bleachers a lot faster than you walked up them.”

  “Is that a threat, Kelly?”

  “Thought I made it pretty obvious.”

  “Jack, don’t,” David says.

  “Nobody’s interested in what you have to say, Morris,” Sarah tells them. “If I wanted to hear idiots make fun of people who are about a thousand times smarter than them and discuss things they know nothing about, I’d turn on Fox News.”

  “Ooo, this one’s got a mouth on her,” Oscar says. “Careful with that, Kelly.”

  Jack clenches his fists and stands, raring to go.

  “Jack, sit down,” Sarah says. “They’re not worth it.”

  “Worth what? Wouldn’t be that hard to mess up their faces.”

  “Jackie, please,” David begs.

  “Yeah, Jackie,” Oscar mocks, “please! Don’t hurt us!” The brothers laugh.

  “There a problem, guys?” Spot Conlon asks, appearing behind the Delanceys with Race.

  “I hope there is!” Race says. “You haven’t taken me Delancey punching in forever, Spotty. Don’t you love me anymore?”

  “Fuck off, Conlon. This ain’t your fight,” Oscar tells him. Sarah can tell he’s nervous, though. Most people would never dare go up against Jack Kelly, and almost nobody would dare go up against Spot Conlon. Jack Kelly and Spot Conlon together? With a side of Race Higgins? Not even the Delanceys are stupid enough to be interested in that.

  “It isn’t? Seems like you’re being not so kind to my friends, one of whom just so happens to be my boyfriend’s brother.”

  “Saying whom now, Conlon? Spending a little too much time with Rain Man over here?”

  “How many nicknames for me do you have?” David asks. “It’s like you sit down together and think them up. Are you sure you’re not into me?”

  “Davey,” Race breathes reverently, “you’re my favorite person.”

  “Hey!” Katherine stomps up the steps of the bleachers. “What the hell is wrong with all of you? If you’re going to fight, can you not do it in a place that ruins my shot? I’ve been trying to take a picture of the stands for the last three minutes and none of you will sit down!”

  Morris huffs and glares at Jack. “We’ll do this some other time.”

  “Why?” Jack asks. “Don’t want a picture of you having the shit kicked out of you in the yearbook? Too bad. I would’ve hung those up just like you hung up mine.”

  The brothers rush off but not before giving David, who’s still sitting down, a little shove. Sarah wraps her arms around him.

  “Are you okay, neshama?”

  He nods. “I don’t like them.”

  Jack laughs. “Me neither.”

  Race and Spot sit down next to them.

  “Call me if they’re giving you any crap and I’ll be there, okay, Davey?” Spot says.

  He nods. “Thanks.”

  “Hey, I was here too!”

  “I’m better at fighting,” Spot counters.

  “Both of you stop talking,” Sarah orders. She can tell David is getting overwhelmed. “Do you want to go home?” she whispers.

  He shakes his head. “No. I want to see Mush and Finch win the game.”

  “They’re not going to,” she mutters.

  “I know.”

  The conversation turns to how their friends are cursed with being great players on a terrible team. Sarah stays focused on David. He looks lost, hurt, and confused. The thing that bothers her most is that he doesn’t look that different from how he’s looked all the time since the beginning of September. 

  Sarah and Jack have their first fight the next week. They fight, unsurprisingly, about David. Jack has been going on for fifteen minutes about something his best friend said the other day and Sarah, usually happy to talk about him for any length of time, snaps.

  “Can we talk about something or someone other than David for once?” she requests. “God, it’s like he’s the only person you know.”

  They’re lying on their backs, staring up at the clouds the way cheesy couples do, and Jack pushes himself up on his elbows. “What?”

  “All you talk about is David!”

  “That ain’t true,” he replies.

  Sarah thinks his cheeks are turning red, but it’s bright out and it might just be sunburn.

  “It is! It is, and it’s a major problem!”

  Jack looks at her like she’s a small, lost animal and he is the concerned citizen who finds it on the side of the highway. Like he has to rescue her from whatever messed up version of reality she’s living in. Like she’s not completely justified in her frustration.

  “Sarah…what are you talking about?”

  “Can’t I have one day with my boyfriend where we don’t talk about my brother?”

  “What? Sarah, you talk about him just as much as I do. We can talk about something else,” he says, “but don’t get pissed at me for no reason.”

  She sits up entirely and huffs. “No reason? What about the fact that you seem more interested in my twin brother than in me?”

  Jack sputters for a moment before recovering. “That ain’t true! What the fuck are you on about, Jacobs?”

  It devolves from there. Both of them get angry, but Sarah isn’t sure she knows what it is they are angry about. She doubts Jack does either. She ends up storming away.

  When she gets home, she is fuming.

  David looks up from where he sits reading on the couch and quirks his head to the side. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing!” she snaps. “Nothing is wrong.”

  He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Umm…okay. It just seems like—”

  “God, David, if you get to say nothing’s wrong all the damn time and expect me to leave it alone, then you should leave it alone when I say it!”

  David looks more confused than anything. For some reason that makes her angrier than she was before.

  “Sorry,” he says. “I was just trying to—”

  “Well don’t! Don’t try!”

  “I just—”

  “Stop it!” she shouts. “God, why does every second of my life end up revolving around you? Why can’t I have anything to myself? Why can’t something be about me for once?”

  She regrets it the moment it comes out of her mouth. David looks devastated — heartbroken, even. He opens and closes his mouth a few times but says nothing, just sputters. Despite the regret and the heavy pit of guilt that is quickly settling in her stomach, now that she has started she can’t stop.

  “Everything is about making sure you’re okay and you’re happy! Why can’t I be happy without worrying about you being sad?” She isn’t entirely sure what she is yelling about anymore. “And why can’t someone put me first? Not even my own boyfriend prioritizes me over you!”

  “Sarah…” David tries. “I’m sor—”

  “No! No, don’t make this about you too!”

  He shakes his head frantically. “I wasn’t trying to do that.”

  “You—”

  “Hey!”

  Mayer stands in the doorway, equal parts anger and confusion coloring his face. His normally warm smile and kind eyes are replaced by a cold scowl and piercing eyes that would make any grown man shiver.

  Sarah freezes. She has only seen her father this angry at her once in her life before: she was nine and got suspended for punching a boy in the face, and then it was over when he learned the boy she punched was making fun of David and stole his tiny stim toy and threw it across the playground; she got away with a lecture on how revenge is not Jewish and how violence is never the answer unless it was in self defense. Now though, she has no excuse.

  “What is going on in here?”

  She sees David look quickly between her and Mayer. “Nothing,” he lies. “Sorry, Aba.”

  “No, not nothing. Don’t lie to me, David,” he scolds.

  He shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. We were just arguing about something. Sorry, we’re done now.”

  In any other situation, Sarah would be impressed by how sweet David is, trying to avoid getting her in trouble. Now? Now it makes her angrier.

  “We’re not done!” she shouts, heedless of Mayer’s ire. “Just because you’re scared of confrontation doesn’t mean we’re done, David!”

  “What is this about?” Mayer asks. “Because all I’ve heard of it is you shouting at him, Sarah. That doesn’t seem like an argument to me; it seems like a beratement,” he accuses.

  “Of course you’re defending him!” she shoots back. “You always take his side!”

  “I don’t know what the sides are!” Mayer responds. “Tell me what this is about!”

  “It’s about him! It’s always about him!”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means he’s always the one who people care more about! He always comes first! In this family, with our friends, with Jack!” 

  “Sarah,” David says, “I swear I didn’t mean to do anything.”

  “Oh my god, it’s not about what you do!” she shouts. Her fists are clenched, and until this moment she failed to realize that her nails were digging into her palms. She will not be surprised if she finds dried blood under her nails later.

  “Sarah Zeruiah Jacobs! Do not talk to your brother that way!” The tone Mayer uses allows no room for argument or retort. “That is enough. What the hell is the matter that brought this on?”

  “He is,” she barks. “I’m so sick of everything being about him. And if it’s not about him it’s about Les! When do I get a turn? When will it be about me?”

  David looks like he might cry. Sarah can’t bring herself to care, though she knows deep down that she will later.

  “That’s untrue. Not everything is about your brothers. Stop being so dramatic. Where is this coming from?”

  “Nowhere!” she replies. “I’m just sick of it. And I’m sick of you—” she turns back to David “— moping around all the goddamn time! Either tell us what’s wrong or get over it! You’re infuriating!”

  “I don’t mean to mope around,” David says softly, tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  She groans. “Stop acting so pitiful!”

  “Sarah! Enough! You’re acting like a child!” Mayer spits.

  “Oh, I’m acting like a child? What do you call what David’s been doing for the last three months?” All of her anger and resentment spills out like fizz down the side of a newly opened bottle of champagne. Sarah can’t get the cork back in. She doesn’t want to.

  “Sarah—”

  “No, Aba! No, I’m done! I just want a break from the David show! The constant drama of taking care of him.”

  “Sarah!”

  She ignores his disapproving glare and pushes forward. “Our whole lives it’s been about making sure David is okay, and it’s exhausting! He’s exhausting! A meshugener zol men oyshraybn, un im araynshraybn!”

  Sara ignores her father’s yells and David’s choked sob and storms upstairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her. She collapses on the bed and screams into her pillow, making her feel like an angsty tween from a bad made-for-television movie.

  Her anger subsides over the next hour or so and is immediately replaced by the guilt she has been pushing down. She has no idea why she blew up like that. Shame seeps into every crack in her skin, entering her bloodstream and quickly making its way around her entire body. She feels it in her feet and in her stomach. She feels it in her head and in her heart.

  She knows David better than anybody else. She knows what makes him laugh and what makes him cry and how to cheer him up and how to make just the right puppy dog eyes to guilt him into doing what she wants. Most importantly, she knows his insecurities. She knows his insecurities and touched on just about every one of them. She did it on purpose. She wanted to make him feel bad for… well, for nothing, really. He did nothing.

  She cries for hours. She cries until she has no more tears left, and she keeps crying after that — just painful sobs racking her body. When she finally stops it is well into the evening. She risks a glance at her alarm clock, aware that the light and movement will make her crying induced headache all the worse. Nine o’clock.

  Someone knocks on her door.

  “Come in,” she says, but her throat is raw, and she barely makes a sound.

  Whoever is on the other side must hear her or not care about getting a response because the door creaks open. Her face is once again buried in her pillow, so she has no idea who it is. The door closes again. A new weight descends on the edge of her mattress.

  “I brought Tylenol and water,” her mother says. “You must have a headache. Sit up and drink.” Her voice is unreadable and devoid of emotion.

  Sarah does as she is told and takes the medicine offered to her. She takes time to carefully place her empty glass on the nightstand neatly instead of just dropping it down anywhere. She wants to avoid the inevitable conversation as long as she possibly can.

  “Is David okay?” she whispers.

  “Oh, so you care now, do you?”

  More shame comes, which Sarah would not have thought possible only seconds earlier.

  Esther sighs. “That was unnecessary of me. I apologize.”

  Sarah shakes her head. “No. No, I deserve it.”

  “Maybe,” she concedes, “but I’m the parent. I shouldn’t treat you that way just because I’m angry.”

  Sarah can only wait a few more moments before she asks again. “Is David okay?”

  “He will be,” she answers. “He isn’t angry with you.”

  “I wish he was,” she grumbles. “It would be much easier.”

  “Yes. Sarah, what was that? From what Aba told me, you were mean and cruel; that’s not the Sarah I know.”

  Esther reaches out and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Sarah marvels at her ability to show affection after what Sarah did.

  “I… I don’t know. I’m so angry, and I don’t know why.”

  “Mm. That happens, but you can’t do that, Sarah. It’s unacceptable.”

  “I know,” she says.

  “Do you?”

  She looks up from her lap and into Esther’s eyes. They are filled with a sadness and exhaustion she has not seen there in years.

  “David trusts you more than anyone, kochanie, and you threw that trust in his face. You hurt him in the worst way possible. What did he do to deserve that?”

  “Nothing,” she says, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, Ima.”

  “I know. I know you didn’t mean it, but—”

  “I know.”

  “You cannot tell your brother he belongs in a nuthouse. Do you know what that does to him? You telling him what your peers tell him all the time?”

  She nods and buries her head in her mother’s shoulder. “I don’t think it.”

  “I know that. I think he knows that too, but that doesn’t make it okay.”

  She rubs Sarah’s back for a few quiet minutes. “I’m sorry you feel like we’ve been neglecting you.”

  Sarah pulls back and shakes her head ferociously. “I don’t feel that way. I really don’t,” she repeats when she sees Esther’s skeptical expression. “Maybe you sometimes pay more attention to David, but it’s a different type of attention that Les and I don’t need. I know you love us all equally.”

  “We do. We like you all equally too. That’s important, and sometimes I think you don’t know that.”

  Sarah smiles sadly. “I do know it. Thank you.”

  “So if you do not feel that way, then what is this all about, najdroższa?”

  “I’m not sure. I got into a fight with Jack today, and things spiraled from there.”

  Esther hums and rubs her back some more. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She shakes her head. Fiddling with a hangnail to avoid eye contact, she asks, “How mad is Aba?”

  “Very. You’ve seen him when a student is rude to your brother; how do you think he feels about his daughter doing it?”

  She stays quiet.

  Esther sighs. “He loves you very much, okay? He’ll get over it soon enough. Right now he’s disappointed in you — we both are — but it will all be all right.”

  “Am I grounded?” she asks.

  Her mother laughs. “No, you’re not. David asked us not to punish you.”

  Of course he did. Sarah feels even worse.

  “Besides, I think how you’re feeling right now is punishment enough, don’t you?”

  They sit in silence for a long time. Sarah is exhausted and close to sleep but is clinging on to her last bit of energy. “Can I go apologize to David?”

  “Wait until the morning, mój skarbie. Hopefully he’s fallen asleep by now.”

  Sarah feels yet another pit open up in her stomach. She wants nothing more than to see David and apologize and make sure he is okay — that she hasn’t ruined everything. She has no expectation that he will forgive her right away, but she needs to tell him that she meant none of it. She needs to tell him that she loves him more than anything or anyone and that she will do anything to keep him happy and safe just like he does for her.

  But instead she lies awake for hours staring at the ceiling. Eventually she breaks down again and, needing some form of comfort, selfish though it may be, she sneaks into Les’ room and curls up with him. He stirs but stays sleeping, and as she cries into his hair, she can only hope neither of her brothers hate her in the morning.

  She almost never prays outside of shul or for holidays and Shabbat anymore, not like David and her father do. But tonight she racks her brain for an applicable prayer. A prayer for forgiveness or repentance seems insufficient, but she says all the ones she knows anyway, says not only the evening prayers but the morning and afternoon prayers all at once.

  She imagines Mrs. Schosstein’s disapproving face  — the one she wears when anyone does something she feels is disrespectful, which is usually Sarah; the one she wore that time David asked her to switch seats with him so that he could spare Mr. Markowitz the displeasure of her company after she started lecturing him about coming to shul more consistently. It happened a few minutes after she loudly told someone that David was bad at reading social cues, so David just shrugged when she looked appalled at his request and said, “Sorry. I’m bad at reading social cues.” Sarah laughs at the memory through her tears and wipes one away. Les grunts in his sleep, and she stills.

  She goes back to praying, though she is not sure what it is she is praying about anymore.

  Sarah wakes up when someone knocks on the door. She calls for them to come in before she can even open her eyes and realize where she is. When she does, she sees Les still asleep beside her. Memories of last night come rushing back. With no time to prepare, she is caught off guard by David entering the room, still in his pajamas, fixing his glasses’ position when there is no need to, and looking nervous.

  “Hi,” he says softly.

  “David, I’m… I’m so sorry.” She stands and approaches him slowly — the way one might approach a frightened animal to show they mean no harm.

  David’s smile is small and fake but present. “It’s okay,” he says.

  “No, it’s really not.”

  He shrugs. “No, I guess not.”

  Neither of them say anything else for almost a minute. Sarah knows she has the responsibility to speak next but can’t bring herself to do it.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Me?” she asks incredulously. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I don’t really understand what happened, but I’m fine. I thought it was just one of those things I don’t understand, you know?” He fidgets with the drawstring on his pajama pants. “Like that time Finch was crying at that party, and I didn’t understand why even when you and Crutchie tried to explain it to me. I just…” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I thought I said something or did something wrong—”

  Her heart breaks further. Of course he blames himself. It’s in David’s nature to blame himself.

  “—and I asked Aba, and he doesn’t understand what happened either. He said I didn’t do anything, but he can’t know, so did I?”

  The world is blurry. Sarah blinks and lets tears fall. David is looking at the ground, so she puts her hands on his arms and tells him to look at her. “You did nothing wrong,” she tells him when he meets her eyes. “That was one hundred percent about me and my issues. I took it out on you, and I am so, so sorry. You did nothing wrong. Nothing, neshama.”

  He nods as tears stream down his cheeks. “Did you mean what you said? That everything is about me? Because I can try to—”

  “No, I didn’t, I swear. Please don’t try to fix anything because there’s nothing to fix.”

  “Okay.” The word is barely audible, but Sarah takes it because she knows she won’t get anything better than that.

  “Good. David, I didn’t mean anything I said, okay? I love you more than life. I need you to know that I didn’t mean any of it, okay?”

  “Any of it?” he repeats.

  “Any of it.”

  She watches David bite his lower lip and listens to him hum quietly. After a few minutes of that, she wants to gently tell him to stop with the biting before he splits his lip, but he stops before she can say anything.

  “Okay. You’re not mad at me?”

  “No. I never really was. Like I said, I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

  She chuckles and shakes her head. “No, I’m okay. Are you still angry with me?” she asks, trying to keep any hint of nervousness out of her voice.

  He tilts his head to the side and scrunches his eyebrows. “I was never angry with you. I was worried about you more than anything.”

  Sarah smiles and takes a moment to marvel at the fact that someone like David exists. It seems implausible that she could know someone like David, let alone be related to him. Sarah counts herself lucky. “You’re amazing, David.”

  “Umm, thanks? So are you?”

  She laughs. “So you forgive me then?”

  David nods. “I’m not the one you should worry about forgiving you. You still have to talk to Aba.”

  He pulls her into a hug as she groans. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Yeah, great, we all love each other,” a voice from the other side of the room says. “Now can you please shut up and let me go back to sleep?”

  They laugh.

  “Sorry, Les,” David says. “Didn’t know you were up.”

  “I wasn’t; that’s the point. Now get out.”

  Before the door fully shuts behind her, Sarah swears she hears Les mumble, “Fucking dumbass codependent twins.”

  She really needs to have a talk with Jack about cursing around Les, but it’s probably too late anyway.

  Not until later that day as she scrolls through Instagram and sees a new post from Jack’s art account does she realize that she totally forgot about their argument and that she needs to call him.

  Huh.

  Two weeks later, Sarah and Jack have long since made up, and Sarah finds herself at a party at the Larkin-Kelly-Higgins-Morris house (or, as the boys call it, Medda’s House of Misfit Boys). Medda is off visiting a relative, Smalls in tow, so of course Race decides that they must have a party.

  Crutchie and David are sober, but everyone else is well on their way to being wasted (except Spot, who seems to be constantly drinking and yet not at all drunk). At Sniper’s insistence, some of them are playing spin the bottle. “I don’t care if it’s a cliche,” she says when people protest, “it’s happening.”

  David and Spot are sitting it out and lounging on the couch, both of them wearing the same judgemental look.

  “You sure you don’t want to play, Dave?” Jack asks for the hundredth time.

  “No thanks,” he replies. “I prefer my life as it is: free of venereal disease.”

  “Hey! That was one time!”

  “Yeah, but it was chlamydia, Ike.”

  “Which is curable with antibiotics, so shut the fuck up, Hot Shot.”

  Sarah laughs into her cup.

  “Is it time for me to give my safe sex talk again?” Crutchie teases.

  “Oh god, will someone just spin the damn bottle already? Who’s turn is it?”

  Mush raises his hand. Jack slides the bottle over across the carpeted basement floor.

  When the bottle lands on Sarah, she rolls her eyes goodnaturedly and moves to the center of the circle. She sees David cover his eyes as she leans in, so the kiss starts off with a laugh. After a moment, Romeo pulls Mush back by the waist of his pants and says, “Give someone else a chance!”

  They continue to drink as the game proceeds, but some of them get drunker faster than others. One of these lightweights is Elmer, who says stupid things on the best of days.

  “Hey, Davey,” he begins, giggling. “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  Sarah can see that he is waiting for something to make him laugh, but what comes out of Elmer’s mouth next drains all the color from his face.

  “If you played with us, you might get a chance to kiss Jack.”

  David is not the only person to freeze. In fact, practically everybody freezes. Race, Crutchie, and Spot start having what is obviously an intense conversation with just their eyes. Albert pinches Elmer’s arm. Hard.

  Elmer yelps. “Hey! Knock it off.”

  “He’s right, Davey,” says an equally drunk Hot Shot. “And Race knows about physics and… stuff—” he gestures vaguely when he fails to find the word “— and he could probably rig it so it landed on him.”

  “Not like Jack would mind,” Bill mumbles into his glass. Katherine elbows him hard and he cries out. He must realize why because shortly thereafter he mumbles again. “Shit. Did I say that out loud? Damn, I’m really drunk.”

  Katherine takes the drink out of his hand as he goes for another sip, glaring at him.

  Before Elmer spoke, Jack and Sarah were holding hands. Now, Jack slowly pulls his hand away and refuses to meet her eyes. Nobody speaks and the loudest silence Sarah has ever heard prevails for a full thirty seconds.

  Suddenly, as if he did not process the situation until that very second, David launches off the couch and runs upstairs. The basement door shuts with a slam.

  Sarah tries to decide if going to him will make matters worse or better. Before she can, Crutchie and Spot are making their way up the stairs.

  When the door clicks shut again, Albert turns to Elmer and whisper-yells, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “What? What did I say?”

  As their friends berate one another, Jack and Sarah say nothing.

  Race approaches them. He bends down and says, “Come with me.” His tone makes it clear that it is not a request.

  They follow Race in silence to Jack’s room. He ushers them in and closes the door behind them.

  “Race—”

  “Oh, now you have something to say?”

  “Hey! Don’t talk to her like that.”

  “Shut up, Kelly; she can defend herself.”

  “And she can tell him that she can defend herself by herself,” Sarah bites.

  “Why are you mad at us?” Jack asks. “We didn’t do anything.”

  “That’s the point,” Race growls. “You didn’t do anything.”

  “What the hell should we have done?”

  “Defended him! Played it off as a joke!”

  “You didn’t do that neither!”

  “For fuck’s sake, Jack.” He sighs. “He needed reassurance that you guys didn’t think it was true.”

  “We were in shock,” Sarah says, laying a hand on Jack’s bicep in an attempt to placate him before he attacks Race. “But reassurance that you guys don’t think it’s true would have done the same thing. It was just awkward.”

  Race stares at her like she has three heads. “Are… you’re kidding me, right?” He looks about two minutes away from ripping his hair out.

  Before he says anything else, a loud sound echoes down the hallway, a combination of a sob and a wretch. Sarah cringes, and she aches to comfort her brother.

  “Sarah.”

  Race’s tone is less accusatory than it was before and more pitying. It reminds Sarah of that night a few months earlier when she came home to David crying in his room and when she asked what was wrong, their mother replied, “Do you really not know?”

  “Sarah,” Race says again (obviously she zoned out). “He needed it from you guys because none of us are in denial about it.”

  Jack clenches his fists. It seems like he is trying to find something to be angry about because anger is better than the alternative. “About what?”

  “That it’s true.”

  The door opens and Spot enters. “He’s gonna sleep in yours and Crutchie’s room.” As he says it, he is pointedly facing away from them and looking only at Race.

  Race nods. “K.”

  “Spot,” Sarah tries, “is he okay?”

  When Spot turns to her, she knows that answer is not going to be anything she wants to hear.

  “He’s humiliated and panicking and terrified that you two idiots hate him, but other than that he’s fine.”

  “What do you… I honestly have no idea what the fuck anybody’s talking about,” Jack announces.

  Spot rolls his eyes. “Of course not. Everyone’s always saying, ‘Jack and Sarah know Davey better than anyone else,’ and some shit, but you’re so fucking blind that—” he huffs and stops his sentence before he can finish it. “Whatever. Figure it out.” He slams the door behind him.

  “He’s not wrong, you know,” Race says. Then, “I’m gonna go find everyone places to sleep.”

  Just like that, they are alone.

  Jack sighs heavily and flops down on the bed. “This is a goddamn disaster, and I don’t even know why!”

  As he rants about his confusion, Sarah is having an internal battle. The battle is not, however, over whether or not their friends are right.

  After almost three months of confusion and worry, it makes sense of itself in half a second. She feels like an idiot. How could she have been so blind? How could she not have realized? 

  The answer, of course, is that she isn’t blind and she did realize, but she lied to herself. David pushed and pushed her to believe him for so long that she ended up giving in, even though she knew the truth. And it isn’t as if she just knew it deep down or something. No, Sarah knew it on the surface level.

  David is in love with Jack.

  If she was asked about it just this past summer, she would have said that David has been hopelessly, entirely in love with Jack for years and that one day Jack will come to his senses, and they will be together. All of their friends would have answered the same way. The difference is they still would.

  And she has to question why on earth did she stop acknowledging that? Is she so lonely and desperate for romance that she would get involved with the boy her twin brother has been in love with since forever? Apparently.

  Or maybe it is bigger than that. Because, isn’t it true, at least on some level, that she does feel what she said she does just two weeks earlier? That everything has to be about David. That she always comes second (or third if Les is involved). That she is never the priority. That no matter what she does or how hard she works, her achievements will never be as impressive as David’s because he has more to overcome.

  Siblings often hold resentments towards each other, she knows, but what type of sibling does something they know will crush the other? This isn’t tattling to parents or stealing candy or even pushing and shoving — this crosses the line. By a lot. By a ton. The line is so far away she can barely see it. The line is so far away that Mufasa wouldn’t consider it part of his kingdom because the light doesn’t touch it.  The line is so far away that if Michael Fucking Phelps swam for an entire day he still wouldn’t reach it. The line is so far away that fifteenth century explorers might ask nobility to sponsor their journeys to it.

  Point it: Sarah is a terrible sister.

  She is a terrible sister. Her first priority is always David and she is always his. But how could she do this to him if that is true? Sarah is always the one to stay up late into the night, rubbing David’s back as he cries over his best friend. At least she was until the beginning of the school year.

  David feels so alone in so many ways and has all his life. Sarah knows she was the exception, but she isn’t anymore. Now she is just another person who hurt her brother. She isn’t ever going to be able to forgive herself or fully heal the wound she caused, but she will do her best.

  And making that decision hurts a lot less than it probably should.

  “And how am I supposed to know if—”

  “Jack.” 

  “What? I’m trying to rant, here.”

  Sarah sits heavily down next to him, and he sits up beside her.

  “Jack… I can’t do this anymore.”

His face falls and she can see the devastation in his eyes.

  “What? Sarah, what are you talking about? Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Don’t say ‘of course not’ if you’re dumping me! That’s what you’re doing, ain’t it?”

  Sarah nods, tears falling. “I’m sorry,” she gets out.

  “Why? I thought things were going well.”

  She reaches for his hand. “They w—” He yanks it away and she tries not to recoil. “They were.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because I’m hurting the person I love most in the world, and I can’t do that anymore. I should have realized it earlier, but I didn’t, and I made everything worse.”

  “The person you— Davey? Sarah, what the hell are you talking about?”

  “Haven’t you been listening?”

  “To our friends?” he asks. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

  “They’re right.”

  “They’re not.”

  “They are! Jack, listen to me for a second, okay?”

  He nods. Sarah takes his hands and stops for a moment to think about what it is she feels when she does.

  “I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to answer me honestly, okay?”

  “Okay,” he agrees, but his expression tells Sarah he would rather be discussing literally anything else.

  “Jack? Do you have feelings for me?”

  He yanks his hand away. “Yes! Of course I do!”

  “Why? What feelings?” she asks. “Articulate them for me, please.”

  Jack looks angry. In fairness, she would probably be angry too if she was just dumped and then asked to talk about her feelings for the person who dumped her.

  “Are you kidding me? I’m not—”

  “Please?”

  He groans. “Fine. I like you because you’re nice and funny and pretty and smart. You make me laugh, and I like being around you. It’s fun to hang out and…” he trails off.

  She tries to take his hand again. He lets her.

  “When we were friends, what felt different to you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean.” She sniffles and wipes a tear away. First one of hers, then one of his. “Do your feelings for me now feel any different than friendship? I have a feeling that they don’t and it’s okay.”

  Jack looks like he is being questioned on the witness stand. He swallows. “Sarah, I would never try to hurt you—”

  “I know. It’s okay. Tell the truth. To me and to you.”

  “I… No, it doesn’t feel any different than friendship. I’m really sorry. I thought it did, but the last couple weeks or so I’ve been trying to figure it out and—”

  “Shh. It’s okay. It’s because you like someone else, right?”

  He nods.

  “I thought so. It’s okay, Jack. I was lying to myself too.”

  “You were?” he asks hopefully.

  “I was.”

  He nods again, seemingly unable to do much else.

  Sarah searches his face for comprehension and finds some but not what she needs from him. He does not understand what she needs him to understand in order to proceed.

  “Jack,” she says softly, “you know our friends are right, right? And you know I know who it is you have feelings for?”

  Jack opens and closes his mouth several times, making Sarah chuckle. “I’m not… Sarah, that ain’t true. If he liked me like that, if he were, like, in love with me or whatever—” he puts air quotes around “in love” “—then why wouldn’t he have told me ages ago?”

  “Have you met David?” she scoffs. “He doesn’t want to ask to borrow a pencil for fear of making people mad. You think he would tell his best friend that he’s in love with him?”

  Jack shrugs, noncommittal, but Sarah knows he agrees.

  “Look, Jack—”

  “Why did you date me then? If you knew — I mean, did you know?”

  Shame and guilt fill her once more. “Yeah,” she mutters, “I knew.”

  “Then why did you—”

  “Because he convinced me that he was over it. I know he puts walls up a lot, but you and I both know he’s a good liar and—”

  He stops her. “I do. But that ain’t what I’m asking.”

  “Then what are you asking?”

  “The same thing you asked me. What are your feelings for me? Why’d you want to go out with me, Sarah?”

  Embarrassed and unwilling to look him in the eye, Sarah lets her gaze wander to the walls of Jack’s room. Covered with art and pictures, it is almost impossible to find an empty square foot of space. There are sections of the walls dedicated to everyone — one to her, one to Race, one to Crutchie, one to Katherine, one to Spot, one to Albert, and so on. One wall is a mix of pictures and artworks of all of Jack’s friends and family; another of assorted pieces of art; another a mishmash of Smalls’ drawings and finger-paintings, Katherine’s articles, a photocopy of Sniper’s first ever A-plus test, poems Sarah wrote over the years, articles about awards Race won, some sweet notes Medda left in his brown bag lunches the first weeks he lived with her — a collection of happy memories for when he needs to block out the bad. The sections for each of his friends, however, take up the most room. Race’s section is sizable, as are Katherine’s and Sarah’s, and Crutchie’s section is huge from all the years of pictures and sketches, but every last one of them is dwarfed by David’s section.

  David’s section takes up more than a quarter of a wall and is better organized than any of them. At the center is a picture of him smiling awkwardly at the camera. It is goofier than any of the others — many of which are serious and obviously taken reverently — and larger than any of the others. David has been in Jack’s room hundreds of times. The fact that he saw this (objectively terrible) photo of himself and allowed Jack to keep it up is a sign of how comfortable he feels around Jack. That, in all likelihood, is the reason Jack keeps it at the center.

  “Sarah?” Jack prompts.

  “I feel all the same ways you do,” she answers. “I think you’re nice and funny and handsome and smart. You make me laugh, and I like being around you.”

  “I am a charmer.”

  “Don’t push it, Kelly.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  This brief reprieve from tension makes the next part all the harder to say.

  “And you picked me. You were something David wanted that he couldn’t have. I could have what he wanted because you picked me over him.”

  Jack looks horrified.

  “So, yeah. That’s why.”

  “Sarah—”

  “I know! I know it’s horrible!” she exclaims. “You don’t need to tell me that, okay? I know I’m a terrible sister. I resented him for getting all the attention at home, and I’m a terrible sister!”

  She turns away from him again, but he puts his hands on her shoulders and forces her to face him.

  “When Crutchie and I got to Medda’s,” he begins, “Racer had been here two months already.”

  The sudden subject change is startling.

  “Sarah, the two months before I got here were the worst two months of my life. The guy Crutchie and I was with before our ma, he was— well, it don’t matter now.”

  His gaze seems so far away. Sarah isn’t sure he is there with her.

  “When I got here, I was scared, okay? Not just for me, but for Crutchie too. And then I fucked up our third night here and was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it never did—”

  Sarah resists the urge to ask him what he meant by “I fucked up.”

  “—we started to get used to life with Medda. She’s the greatest lady in the world, and we’re real lucky to have her, me and Race and Crutch and Smalls.”

  Sarah smiles.

  “But the two months Crutchie and I was in hell for, Race was here. He was fine. And I’m thankful each and every day that he wasn’t with us, but fuck if it didn’t make me resent him for years.”

  Sarah jolts into a sitting position, no longer slumped with her chin on her knee.

  “He’s my brother, and I love him — I’d die for him, even — but that resentment, it was there, and it festered, you know?”

  She nods, though she knows she will never fully understand because based on some of the other stories about Jack’s past she has been told, whatever it is he went through is unimaginable to her.

  “So one day last year, right before Smalls turned six, she got into my paints and shit because Race took them out of the closet when he was looking for something and forgot to put them back. I’ve got this old sketchbook, only six sketches in it, but it was my mother’s. I kept it with my supplies because I was so worried about someone taking it, so I’d always move it around to places I didn’t think folks would look through. I knew I didn’t need to do that anymore at Medda’s, but old habits die hard.” He shrugs. “Anyway, Smalls got into the box, and the sketchbook ended up being fine, but I got nervous about it. I yelled at Racer for leaving it out.”

  “That’s understandable, Jack.”

  “No, I mean, I really ripped into him. It was bad. I went on and on about him being a spoiled brat and irresponsible and immature and a whole bunch of shit that ain’t true about him having it good.”

  “Because of what happened during those two months?” she asks.

  “Yeah. Didn’t even realize that was why until Crutchie pointed it out.” He laughs sourly. “He always has known me better than I know myself. Anyway, I’d been treating him different for years just because of two stupid goddamn months he was here, and I didn’t even know it.”

  “Jack, I get what you’re trying to say,” she tells him, “and I really appreciate it, but it’s not the same. You yelled at your brother, but I broke my brother’s heart.”

  “It ain’t that different. We both went after their insecurities.” He pulls Sarah into his side. “You didn’t hurt him on purpose. It took Crutchie saying something for me to figure out how I was feeling towards Race; you figured this out all by yourself. You’re not a terrible sister, Sarah Jacobs. You’re amazing.”

  “But—”

  “You’re amazing.”

  She leans into his hold and allows herself to comfort and be comforted. On the other side of the bedroom door is a whole world of drama and apologies and awkward conversations and angry speeches, and Sarah can deal with that, she can. She just needs a minute first.

  “Do you love him?” she hears herself ask, her voice hushed. She doesn’t receive a response, which is response enough. Just as she is preparing to get up and leave, however, she feels him nod into her shoulder. Only once and achingly stiff. But a nod.

  Sarah kisses his cheek as she stands. “I’m going to go see David. Are you okay here by yourself for a few minutes?”

  He nods distractedly.

  “Sarah, I—”

  “It really is all right, Jack.”

  Jack grins. “Hey,” he says when she is halfway out the door. “The making out part was a fun addition to our friendship though, wasn’t it?”

  Sarah laughs. “Yeah, it really was.”

  She enters the room and all of its occupants turn to see her.

  “Saz?” David quickly tries to hide the fact that he is crying.

  Sarah’s heart breaks even further, and she quickly makes her way over to him.

  “What are you doing? Why aren’t you with Jack?”

  “Oh, neshama…” She sits down on Race’s bed and wraps her arms around him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why? You didn’t do anything.”

  “But I did,” she says with a nod. “I did something very wrong, and I’m so, so sorry for it. I’m going to try and fix it though, I swear.”

  The others seem to understand that this is a conversation that needs to be had in privacy. They leave, Crutchie stopping to say to David, “Let us know if you need anything.”

  As soon as they’re gone, he erupts. “What do you mean? Is everything okay? Can I help you?”

  “This isn’t something where I deserve help. I’m going to do my best.” She takes his hands, mirroring how she talked to Jack just minutes earlier.

  “Neshama—”

  “I broke up with Jack.”

  David pulls away and shoots up to his feet. “What? Why?”

  “For a bunch of reasons.”

  “But you like him!”

  She shakes her head. “Not enough to justify staying together. And to be honest, I think I just wanted a boyfriend, and Jack’s already one of my favorite people, so…” Sarah is not about to tell him about the real reason she dated Jack. Maybe she owes it to him, but not right now. David deserves to not have to deal with that.

  He begins pacing. “Are you… Fuck, he’s not gonna…”

  “Not going to what?”

  “Nothing.” 

  Sarah is sure she has only seen him so scared a handful of times in their lives, and the other instances do not bear thinking about.

  He stops pacing and kneels in front of her, connecting their hands again. “Are you okay, neshama?”

  “I am.”

  He reaches up and wipes her tears away. He frowns. “But you’re crying.”

  “Not about that.”

  “Then about what? Did he hurt you somehow?” David looks stricken at the thought.

  “No.”

  “Good.” Gently, he asks, “What are you crying about?” 

  “You.”

  “Me?” His eyes go wide. “What did I do?”

  “Well, me, really. I let myself believe that you were okay and that you hadn’t been lying to me this whole time.”

  Nervousness laces his voice when he says, “How did I lie to you?”

  They both know the answer.

  “You’re in love with him, David.”

  “Christ, this again? No, I’m not!” He is so obviously lying that Sarah thinks she must have been an idiot not to have realized it before — to have chosen not to realize it before. 

  “I’m not arguing with you about this, I’m just going to say what I know and you can do with it what you will, okay?”

  He storms away, reminding her of Les, and sits on the edge of Crutchie’s bed. As always, his posture is stiff and immovable. David stares for a minute, frozen in place, and then gestures for her to continue.

  “You’re in love with Jack, but you love us both and want us to be happy. You said you aren’t in love with him, but you are. You’ve been so stressed about hiding your feelings — don’t think I haven’t seen it — and it gave you that migraine a few months ago. It’s why you’ve been so withdrawn—”

  “I’m withdrawn by nature,” argues David.

  She shakes her head violently, still crying. “Not from me; not like this. It’s why you were crying in here with Ima and Aba a while ago—”

  “I cry sometimes, big deal.”

  He is trying so hard to deny the facts, and Sarah wants to undo every minute of the last three months. She wants to go back in time and do whatever she can to make sure that look will never cross his face. His walls are up but crumbling, and she sees how hard he is working to keep them standing while she tears them down, brick by brick. 

  “I said I was going to talk and you were going to hear it and that’s what’s going to happen,” she reiterates. “You stopped crying when Jack got to our house because you didn’t want him to see. You… David, I can’t keep giving examples. You’re in love with Jack and I’m so, so sorry.”

  “I’m not,” he insists, though she can tell he’s struggling to say it. “I’m not.” He’s shaking.

  Sarah goes to him and pulls him into a tight hug.

  “I’m not.” He keeps repeating the phrase. She shushes him gently. “I’m not, I’m not.”

  “It’s okay, boychik.”

  “It’s not. I can’t be in love with him. I can’t be.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he doesn’t love me.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” she hedges. “And even if it were, you’ve known Jack for so long; do you really think he’d stop being your best friend if you admitted it?”

  “I’d rather not know than know he doesn’t,” David admits. He wraps his arms around himself, effectively pushing Sarah off. “And maybe not but it would ruin everything!”

  “All I know,” she lies, “is that he said he likes someone else, I said I was coming to talk to you, and he’s still sitting in his room. Why do you think he would do that instead of going back downstairs?”

  “I don’t know! Saz, you like him!”

  “No, I don’t.” 

  “But—”

  “David, listen to me.” She waits for his undivided attention to continue, watching as he rubs his hands down from his thighs to his knees and up again, over and over, as if trying to wipe away sweat. When that stops, he starts fiddling with his Chai necklace. “I didn’t know I was even vaguely attracted to him until he asked me out. You’ve liked him since seventh grade and been in love with him since tenth grade at the latest. There’s a difference.”

  “But…  he’s not going to love me back. He doesn’t love me, Sarah!”

  “I don’t?”

  David turns white as a ghost when Jack appears in the doorway. Sarah gets up and steps back to allow him some space to approach.

  “Jack! I… I didn’t mean to—”

  “So you don’t love me then?” he asks.

  “No! I mean, yes, I—” David stops talking. His body language screams defeat. “What do you want me to say? Tell me what you want me to say and I promise, I’ll say it.” What he is doing can hardly be described as talking when it is so much like a whimper.

  “Nothing.”

  And that’s how Sarah witnesses her brother’s first kiss. It’s sweet and short (and she idly wishes that she were not there). Still, after so many years of pain, it is a blessing to see the weight being taken off of his shoulders in seconds.

  For the second time in as many weeks, she prays outside of her routine. It is a prayer of thanks.

  Sarah plans to give them until Friday, but on Tuesday Race, Crutchie, and Katherine approach her and let her know that enough is enough. During an off period, they use Denton’s classroom to talk.

  “This is ridiculous,” Katherine says. “We’ve been waiting for them to get their heads out of their asses for years, and once they finally admit their feelings for each other, they do this? Is this a personal punishment for me from the universe?” Katherine slumps down in defeat next to her best friend.

  Sarah laughs. “That’s a little dramatic.”

  “Don’t take joy in our pain, Jacobs,” Race barks. “I blame you.”

  “What did I do?”

  Crutchie, who has not spoken since they entered the room, doesn’t look up from where he is doodling in his binder when he says, “Dated the guy your brother is in love with, then forced them together ten minutes after breaking up with him.”

  Katherine gestures randomly as if to say, “See? He’s right. You suck.”

  “Okay, fine,” she concedes, “but it’s not my fault that they’re both terrible at this stuff.”

  “True.”

  “Say the two girls who dated one of them,” Crutchie mutters.

  Katherine rolls her eyes. “Yeah, and look how well that turned out. Thank you, by the way, for having a weirder break up story with Jack than I do. Now people will stop making fun of me.”

  “No, we won’t.”

  “Stuff it, Morris.”

  Crutchie sticks his tongue out and goes immediately back to his doodles.

  Race raises his hand like there’s a teacher in the room. “Why can’t we just do the old shove-em-in-a-closet routine and call it a day?”

  “Because,” Crutchie says, “we want them to start talking again, not have a weird janitors’ closet make out session like you and your boyfriend do.”

  “You’re just jealous because your girlfriend would never go for it.”

  “Boys!” Katherine interrupted their bickering. “Can we get back to the matter at hand?”

  “We can’t do that because both of them are claustrophobic,” Sarah tells Race.

  “And probably illegal,” Crutchie adds. 

  Race throws up his arms in defeat. “Fine, then give us your boring suggestions, cowards.”

  “Here’s an idea,” Sarah says, “we could just talk to them like they’re people instead of a science experiment.”

  Katherine can probably tell that Sarah is getting worked up because she places a hand gently on her arm to calm her. Sarah shivers.

  “We can try that if you want,” she says, “but I thought you already had.”

  “Let’s just bring them in a room and force them to talk to us and then each other,” Race says. “Then they’ll make out, and I can watch, and you’ll all go back to your boring, normal lives, and I’ll go back to my thrilling, amazing life.”

  Crutchie makes a grossed out noise. “You want to watch our brother make out with someone?”

  “No, I want to watch Davey make out with someone.”

  They started talking towards the end of the period, so the bell rings and kids start to file into the room before they can actually make a decision about what to do.

  The next period is their lunch period, and since their usual classroom is being occupied by a teachers’ conference and they refuse to go to the cafeteria, the four of them start searching the history wing for an empty classroom.

  “He told me that it ‘needs work’ but not what work it needed.” Katherine is telling them about the teacher who substituted as advisor for the newspaper when Denton was out last week. “Sniper had him for science last year, and she always said he’s a misogynistic asshole.”

  “I had him too,” Crutchie says, “and he is.”

  Katherine frowns. “He only seems to like gossipy stories anyway. He approved a story about some cheerleader and quarterback breaking up because she cheated on him, which Denton would never allow, and it has zero journalistic integrity.”

  Sarah smiles sympathetically. “At least it won’t make it past the principal’s office.”

  “Yeah. Still, the paper’s going to be filled with gossip this week.”

  “That’s annoying. Did he eventually approve yours?” Sarah asks, trying to open the door to an empty room and finding it locked. 

  “No, but it doesn’t matter because Denton is back next week. It’ll go in then.”

  “There’s an empty one over here,” Race says, pointing down the hallway. “Light’s on, so it’s probably open.”

  They follow him and as Katherine is telling them more about the substitute’s reign of terror, Race gets the door open.

  “Do you think if you wrote about— Holy fuck!” Crutchie screeches.

  “Uh, Katherine?” Race says. “I think I’ve got a story your substitute will like.”

  And he’s right. Professional Teenage Disasters Found Making Out on AP World History Teacher’s Desk would probably sell well, Sarah thinks.

  Things don’t go back to normal right away. David still hesitates when he talks about Jack or leaves the house for a date despite Sarah’s assurance that she really is happy for them. Sarah still tiptoes around David’s feelings, weighed down with guilt.

  She starts seeing a therapist. Nothing magically gets better, but Sarah slowly starts to forgive herself and work through some of her built up resentment. She even talks to her parents about it. The tension throughout the household fades.

  It takes almost six months for Jack, David, and Sarah to start feeling normal about their friendship again. Up until then, it’s hard to spend time as a trio. And when Sarah starts dating someone and they go on double dates it doesn’t feel weird at all.

  In a restaurant, as she sits across the table from David and Jack — who hold hands and giggle like the lovesick saps they are — and holding hands with the person next to her — the person she loves — she is happy.

  Sarah looks at Katherine, then at David and Jack, and everything feels right. And she can’t help but think that everything looks right, too.