We went to the zoo, though I’d been prepared to fight my way out of it. I even had a whole speech rehearsed. I remember standing in the kitchen with my arms crossed, looking out of the window, my mind filled with images of animals in their small cages, pacing back and forth in restless circles. It just didn’t sit right with me. I told Mom I didn’t like how the animals suffered behind those steel bars, their wild spirits caged for human amusement.

Mom gave me that patient, understanding look of hers, the one that always made me feel like she heard me. “I know, honey. I know how you feel. But Blake’s never been to one.”

That made me pause.

I turned to Blake, who stood beside me, his usual unreadable expression in place. “You’ve never been to a zoo?”

He shook his head once, short and simple.

“I just want to see,” he said, his voice quiet.

And just like that, I swallowed my protests.

And that’s how I found myself at the zoo, standing in front of an elephant enclosure, feeling exactly as miserable as I expected.

I hated the way the elephants stood still, their massive bodies looking wrong against the backdrop of concrete walls. I hated the way the monkeys clung to the bars, watching the crowds with something too intelligent in their eyes.

Blake, however, stared at everything like he was seeing another world. He stood in front of every enclosure, watching the animals with an expression I couldn’t place. Curiosity? Sadness? Wonder? Maybe all of it. I could tell his mind was busy, absorbing, analyzing, feeling. Pressing his hands against the glass of the reptile house, he watched the way the snakes moved, slow and deliberate. He lingered by the lions, eyes tracking their every step, as if trying to understand them.

I didn’t know what he thought of all of it. His face gave nothing away. I wanted to ask him what he was feeling, if it bothered him, if he felt the same sadness I did when I looked at the animals, but I didn’t. I walked beside him, letting the moment be what it was.

But when we finally made our way out of the zoo, the sunlight already beginning to fade, Blake turned to me with that look again—soft, contemplative.

“I liked seeing the lions,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” A small pause. “They’re better in the wild, though.”

I felt my cheeks lift into a smile.

That night at dinner, Mom and Dad kept sneaking glances at him, as if they were waiting for something.

Blake finally noticed. “What?”

“Nothing. Just…” Mom’s eyes got a little glassy. “You look happy.”

Blake blinked, as if the thought had never occurred to him before. Then, slowly, he nodded. “I think I am.”