Charlie was gripping the tennis ball hard, looking down at it, his lip twisted, his chin trembling.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” I said, feeling I’d gone too far.

Charlie shrugged. “It’s the truth,” he said thickly, still looking down.

“I just wish …,” I started. I took a breath and made myself keep going. “I just wish things could have been different.”

Charlie looked up at me. “Me too,” he said. Without warning, he tossed me the tennis ball. I caught it, and this surprised me so much that I almost dropped it again.

“Do you talk about him?” I asked, running my hand over the yellow felt. “About Daddy?”

Charlie nodded. “I’m starting to,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “Are you?”

I shook my head. “Not yet.” I looked up at my brother—my twin—and saw that he looked like I currently felt. We’d both lost the same father. Why weren’t we talking about it? “I miss him,” I said, feeling my own chin start to tremble. The words were nothing compared to the feeling behind them. It was so much more than just missing. It was waiting, always, for the phone call that wouldn’t come. Waiting to hear a voice that I never would, ever again.

Charlie looked at me, his lip trembling. “Me too.”

“I keep waiting for him to show up again. It’s like I can’t believe that it’s real. That this is real life now.”

“How do you think I feel?” Charlie asked. “I’m not entirely convinced you showing up here isn’t an acid flashback.”

“I’m real,” I said. I tossed him the ball, and he caught it with one hand.

“But what are you doing in North Carolina? I thought you were supposed have made it to Connecticut days ago.”

“Well, that was the plan,” I said, feeling a small smile begin to form. “But Roger and I kind of took a detour.”

“Roger?”

“Roger Sullivan. You remember him. We used to play Spud with him in the cul-de-sac.”

“I remember that,” said Charlie. “So you went rogue?” I nodded. “That’s why Mom is mad?”

“Oh, more than mad,” I said.

“Wow,” he said, leaning back in the chair and looking at me as though he’d never seen me before. “And you … you came to see me? You climbed in a window?”

“I did,” I said. “I just … thought we should talk.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said after a pause.

“Hey, Chuck.” We both turned to see Muz lurking in the doorway. “We better get going, man, it’s five minutes to—”

“Yeah,” Charlie said, though he didn’t move.

I stood, and as I did so, I saw a familiar book on the bedside table: Food, Gas, and Lodging. “Are you reading this?” I asked, looking up at Charlie, a little stunned, and hoping it wasn’t Muz’s. He nodded. “Me too,” I said, staring down at it.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking surprised. “I know it was one of Dad’s favorites, and I thought I should check it out.” I just nodded, looking down at the familiar cover, wishing we could have all done this a few months ago. When we both could have talked to him about it, when he would have still been around to have the conversation.

“Chuck?” Muz asked again, and Charlie nodded and stood up, and we all headed for the door. It seemed like there was suddenly so much to say, it was impossible to say anything.

“Hey,” said Muz, looking at both of us. “Are you going to be going by Richmond at all?”

“I’m pretty sure he means you,” Charlie said.

“Um, I don’t know,” I said. I had thought as far ahead as seeing Charlie, and the fact that there was no plan beyond that was a little disconcerting.

“But you might? You might be going that way?” Muz asked, growing more excited.

“Maybe,” I said. “I don’t know.”

Muz nodded, bent down, and fished around in a backpack that was hanging on the knob of the closet door. “Well, if you do,” he said, standing and holding a crumpled envelope in his hand, “would you give this to Corey who hangs out at the Dairy Queen?”

“Are you serious?” asked Charlie.

“I need you to,” Muz said, extending the envelope toward me. “Please. You can just give it to one of the counter staff, they’ll get it to him. He needs to know why I never showed up when I said I was going to. I wasn’t holding out on him, I just got sent here. If he doesn’t find out, he’s going to kill my fish.”

“Your fish?” I asked.

“God, enough about the fish,” Charlie muttered. “Why don’t you just e-mail him?”

“Oh yeah, that’s a great idea,” Muz said. “Should I just send it to Corey who hangs out at the Dairy Queen dot com?”

“I’ll see if I can,” I said, taking the envelope from Muz and smoothing out some of the wrinkles. “I’ll try.”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling at me. “I knew you would. Chuck’s always talking about how you’re always there for him, and—”

“We have to go,” Charlie said, pulling the door farther open. “I’ll help you get back down.” We stepped out into the hallway and found it deserted, the only sound the gentle trickling of the water.

“Are we late?” asked Muz.

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie said, and we all hustled down to the room I’d entered from.

“Thanks again,” Muz shout-whispered to me before heading down the corridor. He raised a hand in a wave, which I returned before following Charlie into the room. It was empty—presumably the two girls had headed out to their next activity.

“That one?” asked Charlie, pointing to the open window. I nodded, and we headed over to it. “Well, I guess this is it, then,” he said, twisting his hands together.

“Are you okay?” I asked, knowing that we were out of time, but not feeling ready to leave yet. “I mean, you look better. But this place … are you okay here?”

Charlie looked down a the white carpet and rocked back and forth on his flip-flops. “I think I am,” he said. “I think so.”

“Amy,” I heard whispered loudly from outside. I stuck my head out the window and saw Roger looking up. He looked incredibly relieved when he saw me, and I wondered how long he’d been calling for me.