I stand in back of the pack for warm-ups and don’t meet Julian’s eyes at all. I’m here to play football and go to school. Sure, I’m sleeping one room away from Julian, but that’s not forever. Eventually, Ma and Frankie and Coley will be here, and I will be able to move out of that house and I’ll only have to see Julian at practice. I can do anything for a couple of weeks.

· twenty-seven ·

JULIAN

I wait until Birdie goes to bed before I knock on Elijah’s door. Honestly, I don’t expect him to answer, but I feel like I need to try.

The door opens slowly, and Elijah stands there in pajama pants, his hair still wet from a shower and dripping on his bare shoulders. “What?” he says, sounding tired.

“Can I come in and sit down?”

He doesn’t answer. Only rolls his eyes and sits back down on the bed in the dark room.

I take that as a reluctant yes and follow him in, closing the door before I sit down with my feet folded underneath me at the foot of the bed.

“I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry,” I tell him, a sliver of light pouring in from the backyard floodlights, illuminating his profile.

“Do you even get why I’m so angry?” he asks, turning his head to face me.

“Look, Elijah. I don’t know that I’ll ever understand exactly what it’s like to be you. Or what it was like to grow up as a Vance in Meridien, but I do know what it’s like for everyone to judge you based on the ideas they have about your family,” I tell him. I don’t feel like I’m explaining myself really well, but it’s the best I can do right now.

“It’s different when they expect you to be amazing,” he says quietly.

“Maybe, yeah. But do you know how much pressure that is?” I ask. “I feel like everyone’s eyes are on me all the time, and if I don’t do something amazing, I won’t be living up to my dad’s legacy or some bullshit. It’s exhausting,” I tell him. My voice gets quieter. “It also feels like the entire town knows my father better than I do. I hardly remember anything about him anymore. Not memories that are just mine, anyway. It feels like everything I know about him has been told to me by someone else.”

“I guess we’re the same in that,” Elijah says quietly.

We don’t talk for the next few minutes, and I get lost in my own thoughts while I listen to the rhythmic pattern of Elijah’s breathing and the out-of-balance ceiling fan above the bed.

“Anyway, I’m sorry,” I say again.

Elijah stays quiet for so long I worry that he’s fallen asleep.