Page 175 of The Otherworld

“No…” I look back to the naked bed. “Where’s he staying?”

“His hangar.”

I grunt. “Just can’t stand being with me anymore, huh?”

“What do you expect after the way you treated him this morning?”

I kick off my shoes, letting one crash into the wall. “Whatever. I don’t give a shit.”

“Jack.”

It’s a warning. But Mom is tired; I can see it in her eyes. Tired of arguing. Tired of keeping the peace. Tired of me.

I almost want to tell her that she won’t have to put up with me for much longer. I’ll be gone too, pretty soon. Hopefully, I’ll be halfway around the world where I’m not Jackie or even Jack, but just Stevenson. That’s going to feel so weird. I wonder if I’ll ever stop thinking, Who are you talking to, me or Adam?

“Look, I’m sorry,” I grumble, sitting on the edge of my bed. “I’m exhausted, okay? It’s been a long day.”

“Get some sleep, then.” Mom squeezes my shoulder and leaves the room.

* * *

I wake up before dawn. The moon is still shining through the window. I’m about to reach for my watch when my gaze catches on Adam’s bed, empty and monochrome in the moonlight.

The absence of him messes with my head. Like the permanent shadow a picture frame leaves on a wall when it’s been hanging there too long and someone takes it down.

The moon was shining bright that night, too. I woke up fast, and the shape of Adam was the first thing I looked for.

My lifeline.

He was sleeping, but I didn’t care. I needed him.

I got out of bed and shuffled across the room. Tapped his shoulder. It was like a rock under his white T-shirt. Tap, tap, tap, until finally, he rolled over, waking up. Saw me standing in the moonlight.

“Jack?” His voice was low and husky. “You okay?”

“I had a bad dream.”

It wasn’t the first time. Second grade came with a lot of bad dreams. But Adam was always there to make it okay. He pulled aside his blankets, and I climbed into bed with him.

For a minute, we just lay there in the moonlight, Adam’s arms folded behind his head. At seventeen, he seemed like a superhero—muscles everywhere. Good for beating up bullies, I thought. But this nightmare wasn’t about the bullies.

I roll onto my back, forcing my gaze up to the ceiling.

He’s still got muscles everywhere. Good for beating up brothers.

But so are mine.

“You want to tell me about it?” Adam asked. His voice was big, like quiet thunder. I felt it through his chest.

At first, I didn’t tell him about it. I was afraid if I said it out loud, it might come true. But I could hear his steady breath, in and out. The boom, boom, boom of his heart in his chest.

He wasn’t gone. He was here.

“It was about you,” I said, my voice shrinking in the dark.

“Me?”

I nodded.

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