Although my dad likes for everyone to think he’s low-key and relaxed, Hudson’s problems weigh on him in a way I’m sure the rest of us don’t fully appreciate. Sometimes, out of nowhere, my dad will say, “I hope Hudson’s okay,” when what he really means is, “I hope today is not the day that Hudson dies.” Sometimes I wonder if it’s not the fact that I don’t like Hudson that keeps us from being close, but the subconscious understanding that if I were to let him into my life, I’m likely to one day get my heart eviscerated.

Indifference seems a safer strategy. I don’t want to be Isla staring sadly at an empty chair, like she did when he didn’t show up for her award ceremony or even the dinner afterward. I don’t want to let him leach joy from moments of glory.

“Hey, Hud, did I tell you about my science fair project?” Isla asks out of nowhere. “It’s actually pretty cool. I looked at what happens when you feed male fish estrogen. Come on, let me show you.”

Isla grabs Hudson’s arm, and at first I think, I’m sorry, Isla, but he doesn’t care about your science project unless it’s made out of heroin, and then I catch her eye. Again, I’m the dense one. She’s trying to get him out of our mom’s way. I take my cue.

“It is pretty amazing, and I, like, hate science,” I say. Isla leads Hudson upstairs and I follow behind, partially to be a human buffer in case he falls and takes Isla down with him.

Once we’re safely ensconced in Isla’s room, she closes the door behind her—to minimize his potential for damage, I assume—and when he again lists to the side, she points to her bed. Hudson obeys, curls up on top of the covers, and rests his head on her pink satin pillowcase.

“Some major shit happening here,” he says.

“Yup,” Isla says, making no move to show him her project. She doesn’t seem angry, though that’s always how I feel when I see Hudson high. She seems only sad and frustrated, like he’s an equation that she should know how to solve. “Some major shit.”

“Your mom might go to jail for, like, twenty years. The most I’ve ever faced is like five. I find the whole thing very ironic.”

“That’s not really what ironic means,” Isla says. I want to scream at them both: Mom is not going to jail for twenty years, you idiots. It was only a college application!

“I can’t believe you cheated on the SATs, Chlo. I can’t decide if that’s the nerdiest thing I’ve ever heard or totally badass,” Hudson says.