Page 23 of Room to Breathe

“My brother spies on me on the daily and reports to my mom. My sister takes my things and pretends like she didn’t. They can be brutally honest as well, but it’s rarely in a loving way.”

“Huh. Well, me and my siblings would tell each other if we were over- or underreacting.”

“Your siblings sound like they’d be really cool.”

“They would be,” I said with a smile.

“And no, I don’t think you’re overreacting. You feel how you feel.”

I stood up, walked to my window, and pulled the string on the blinds. It made a high-pitched zipping sound as the slats rose to the top of my window.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Me analyzing my roofline.”

“You don’t have one of those roofs. Do not climb out your window.”

I wouldn’t. Just looking down the pitch of my roof from uphere made me dizzy. Across the street, a car I didn’t recognize sat parked with its lights on. I couldn’t see its occupant, but it was obviously running. It was probably a DoorDasher or something, lost.

“Are you climbing out the window?” he asked. Apparently I’d been quiet for too long.

“No. I’m trying to picture your house. Do you have one of those roofs?”

“Not out my window. Maybe my parents’.”

“Lucky.”

He laughed. “Next time they’re out of town, we’ll use it to ponder all of life’s mysteries.”

“Why not when they’re in town?” The car drove away and I lowered my blinds, realizing I was probably lit up like a television screen up here.

“Indy, what will the neighbors think?” he said in a chastising tone, channeling his mother, I was sure.

At first, I thought he was talking about my neighbors, seeing me now in my window. But then I remembered what we were actually talking about. Us sitting on his roof. “They might think you’re a normal teenager.”

“How dare you call me normal,” he teased.

“Does your mom make flyers of your accomplishments every year and distribute them to your street? That seems like something she would do, to remind them that she has the most perfect kids.”

“No, but she makes a yearly newsletter that she includes with our Christmas card.”

“I don’t think I knew that. Tell me she’s saved them all and I can read about the wonder that is the Eubanks family. The treasure that is Beau. At two, were you already reading chapter books? Atfive, playing piano concertos for visiting dignitaries?” Beau could play the piano. Sometimes I forgot that because he didn’t do it much.

“My grandpa, you mean?”

I laughed. “I guess he’s the closest to a visiting dignitary that we know.”

“It feels like he is, considering the prep work that goes into everything before he arrives.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“What? Why?” he asked, obviously confused.

“People expect a lot from you.”

“It’s a good thing,” he said. “The more people expect, the more I push myself.”

“Leave some accomplishments for the rest of us.”