Time flies. We all get older and older still. And without really noticing, the years could slip by and you could suddenly realize that you had no idea who one of your siblings was. To be completely honest, you weren’t even sure if you cared.

Especially because at this particular crazy point in your life, you had enough on your plate without taking on one more thing. Especially a brother who didn’t come close to deserving it.

I dozed, woke up. Dozed some more.

Finally I kicked off the stupid covers. Tiptoed out of the cat room, making sure none of the animals wandered out with me. Made a pit stop at the bathroom, circled out to the kitchen, poured a glass of tap water, guzzled it down.

I tiptoed into the living room, tried to figure out whether Johnny was awake or asleep.

I couldn’t tell, so I sat in the armchair across from the couch. I figured that even if he was asleep, on some kind of karmic level I should get points for sitting here.

He groaned. “What’s up?”

“You were such an idiot to me when we were growing up,” I said. “You were mean. Really, really mean.”

He groaned again. “How about you wait another thirty years or so to lay it on me. And until then we both try to catch some Zs.”

I wanted to knock the smug right out of him. And his man bun.

“Go kick rocks,” I said. “Barefoot.”

“Not my bag,” I heard him say to my back as I stomped toward the cat room.

A pajama-clad figure coming down the center staircase scared me almost to death.

“Dad?” I said. My heart was beating a mile a minute. “What were you doing upstairs in the middle of the night?”

“Hmm,” he said. “At first gander, I’d have to say I might well have been sleepwalking.”

My father stuck his hands out straight in front of him, fake-closed his eyes, kept walking.

Chapter Fifteen

The Monday after the long Thanksgiving weekend is always a tough day for preschoolers. Not to mention their teachers.

Polly was leaning back against the far wall of our classroom, her crossed arms resting on the shelf of her baby bump. One of the bright orange starfish she’d painted on the wall looked like it was dancing on top of her auburn hair. Either that or I seriously needed another cup of coffee.

“Low expectations,” I said. “Our goal is to get through the day with a minimum of Band-Aids, tears, puking, and pooping that doesn’t involve full contact with the toilet bowl.”

“Got it,” Polly said. “What about the kids?”

“Yeah, whatever,” I said.