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“You should be enjoying the sunshine,” he says as I approach.

I don’t bother acknowledging his statement when I ask, “Can I use the phone?”

“Exercise time isn’t over.”

“Yeah, I know. I was hoping to call home.”

His brows lift. Rarely do I use my phone privileges, and he knows it, so even though it’s bending the rules, he nods. “Come on. I’ll take you inside.”

I follow him into the common area. There is usually a staff member stationed behind the desk to monitor all calls, but it’s empty when we get there. Marcus takes a seat and opens the binder to my approved list of numbers. “Who’s it going to be today?”

“Tyler.”

He picks up the receiver, dials the number, and hands it to me when it starts ringing.

I drag the phone’s long cord over to one of the chairs and take a seat while I wait for my brother to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Low, hey, how are you?”

“Oh, you know, living the dream.”

He chuckles. “I was wondering when I’d finally hear from you. I tried calling you last week.”

“Yeah, I heard. Sorry, I was kind of tied up with something.” Truth is, I’ve been harboring so much anger toward my family that when they call, I often refuse to take it.

“It’s cool.”

“So, what have you been up to? Tell me something good.”

I’m desperate for you to help distract me from this mood I’m stuck in.

“Just been hanging out with old buddies from high school. You know how it is,” he says, but I don’t know. I don’t have friends like he does. “Last night, a bunch of us went and sawPulp Fictionat the Mural in Seattle.”

“Were there a lot of people there?”

“Yeah, it was packed. Afterward, we all went bar hopping before catching the train back home.”

I close my eyes and fictionalize myself there with them, smiling and laughing and having a great time—whatever that feels like.

“We wound up at this retro arcade. They had all these old-school Atari and Nintendo games and there were a couple of bars inside.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Yeah, it was, but I’m paying for it today.”

“Too much to drink?”

“Oh man, you have no idea.” He groans. “Then Mom had me up early this morning to help her fix the stove.”

“What’s wrong with the stove?”

“Who knows? She thinks because I’m a dude I should know how to fix everything around the house.”

I let go of a breathy laugh, but it doesn’t feel right. I thought talking to my brother would help me feel a little more human again, but it’s only making me feel worse.