Page 38 of Felix

“Hey, Henry?”

My brother doesn’t look up from his game. “Huh?”

“Do you think, one day, you might want to date?”

I see him shrug a shoulder in the rearview mirror. “Dunno.”

“Are there any genders you’re interested in?”

He shrugs again. “They’re all okay. I just think kissing and bumping parts is a waste of time. All Tyler talks about anymore is girls and boobs, and it’s so stupid. He used to be fun.”

I hum, suppressing my laugh. “You’d rather just play video games, huh?”

“Yeah.”

I nod, wondering if Henry might be ace. Or maybe he’ll start wanting those things in a few years. He’s young still.

“Just so you know…” I tell him. “If you ever have questions about kissing or dating or any of that, you can ask me, okay? However you feel about it is okay, and I promise there are other people who think the way you do, too. You don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to just because other kids are doing it.”

“I know,” he says, rolling his eyes. But then he adds, quietly, “Thanks, Emil.”

“Yeah,” I say, feeling… I don’t know. Proud, maybe, of my baby brother for being his own person.

Henry and I lapse into silence, and I turn the radio on while he keeps himself busy with his game. The two-hour drive back to Las Vegas passes relatively quickly, and as soon as I pull into our parents’ driveway, Henry bursts from the car and runs inside. I follow at a more subdued pace, chuckling as the front door slams into the wall and bounces nearly all the way closed again.

I shut it once I’m inside and peek into the living room. “Mom?”

“In here,” she says, followed by, “Henry, use a glass!”

I follow the noise into the kitchen. Mom is pulling a glass out of the cupboard as Henry bounces on his feet. She takes the orange juice carton from his hand, shooting me a smile as she pours him a cup. “You boys have fun?”

“Yep,” Henry says, snatching his drink and disappearing from sight. Footsteps bound up the stairs a moment later.

Mom shakes her head lightly. “Thanks for bringing him with you.”

“Of course. We had a good time,” I assure her. “Did your auction go okay?”

My mom works for an art gallery downtown and has since I was a child. Every once in a while, they host events for the public—pop-up shows, charity auctions, and the like. My mom is the one in charge of making sure the events go off without a hitch. She’s still dressed in a black-and-white wrap dress and heels, telling me she likely beat us back by only minutes.

“It was great,” she says, putting the orange juice back in the fridge. “I dare say we had a record turnout.” She lets out a big gust of air before leaning against the counter, as if this is the first time all day she’s had a chance to slow down. It probably is. “How’d Rebecca seem?”

“Good,” I tell her, although I’m sure my mom has made her fair share of calls to Rebecca to check in. “She has a few friends already, and she likes her classes. I think she’ll be fine.”

My mom nods, sighing. “Good. That’s good. And, uh, you have that research thing, right? How’s that going?”

I open my mouth to tell her about it when Henry yells down the stairs. “Where’d my chips go?”

“Back in the pantry where they belong,” Mom calls back.

“Did you move my headphones?” he asks.

Mom lets out a breath, pushing off of the counter and heading out of the room. Her voice gets quieter the further away she walks. “They’re in your desk drawer, Henry. If you’d cleaned your own room like I asked, you’d know exactly where to find them.”

Henry retorts something I can’t quite make out, and I nod, looking around at the empty kitchen.

“Yep,” I mutter. Seems about right. Raising my voice, I call out, “See you guys later!”

“Bye, hon,” my mom calls back.

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