“So that singer I was telling you about,” I said. “I was talking to her today. She said my sister messaged her on Instagram. How crazy is that?”

Neil looked surprised. “What did she say?”

“My sister wanted to know where I am.” I sighed. “I miss her a lot. I really do. I was thinking, maybe if I make enough money, I could buy her a plane ticket or something to come visit me. But I don’t want her knowing where I am. Not yet.”

“Have you tried talking to your family? I know you said you left without coming out to them, but now that they know—”

“I can’t,” I said, interrupting him. “Not anymore. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“How do you know they won’t come around?”

I sighed again. “I guess I don’t. I don’t know that someday they won’t come around. But why should I have to disrupt my life, make it that much harder, just to get them to understand something so simple about me?”

Neil didn’t say anything. My eyes wandered over to the band playing.

“You know, that singer and I are sort of friends now. Her name’s Laura Pedrotti. I could ask if she wants to perform here sometime. She’s really incredible—I’ve listened to her songs on Spotify, and she’s insanely talented.”

“Uh, sure,” Neil said absently. “That would be great.”

“Cool. I’ll ask her when we get back from the mountains.”

Interrogation Room 38

Roya Azadi

WE JUST WANTED our son back. It had been weeks since his disappearance. I was crying myself to sleep at night. I couldn’t see anything clearly anymore; I was grasping for an explanation, for something to make sense, because what didn’t make sense was that Amir was not home.

My husband and I had been calling Amir for days, but he wouldn’t pick up. The last thing we wanted was for him to think we had abandoned him. We understood how the tone of our last phone calls might have made him feel. So we went and talked to Soraya.

Interrogation Room 38

Soraya

THEY CAME INTO my room when I was practicing “Memory” for, like, the millionth time. I had just gotten to the key change. Touch me! It’s so easy to—Um, these walls are soundproof, right? Anyway, they knocked on my door and asked to talk.

Talking to my parents when I knew Amir was in Rome made my stomach hurt. Even if we had stopped talking about Amir, I was constantly thinking about him. So for them to sit on my bed and ask, “Soraya, do you know where your brother is?” I just about thought I was going to blow up. My whole body was screaming.

I told them I did know, as a matter of fact, but that I wouldn’t tell them where he was. They were not happy with this answer.

Before I spilled the beans, I made my parents promise that they would try to understand. I made them promise that they would listen to Amir. That no matter what, they would still love him.