“Why does it have to be either/or?!” I shouted. “Why can’t I have a life? Isn’t it my turn? I’m finally one of you and I—”

I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to be this thing that growls.

“You know what,” I said, “never mind. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

I turned on my heel and stomped upstairs, not even taking off my shoes in the hall, which is normally something my mom would yell at me for. When I got to the top of the stairs, I heard the creak of a door and saw Aaron stepping out of his room.

“Heard you and the ’rents fighting,” he said, leaning against his doorframe.

“Come to gloat?” I snapped.

“What would I gloat about?” he asked, and it felt like he really didn’t know. Like he was actually asking the question.

“Are you kidding me?” I said, opening my door and going inside, too tired to acknowledge the absurdity of what he was saying. But apparently, things weren’t as obvious to Aaron as they were to me, and he left his stupid cool-guy doorframe lean and followed me into my room.

“Rosie, what’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean, what’s going on with me?” I snapped, throwing my bag and coat on the bed.

“I mean, why are you getting into fights with Mom and Dad and why do you look at me like I’m your worst enemy now?”

He was leaning on my doorframe now and I wanted to push him out and slam the door.

“Why am I being interrogated every time I come home?” I spat back.

“Look, we need you right now,” he said, his voice softening. “With everything that’s going on with Dad—”

“I know, Aaron,” I snapped. “I know. But this has to do with Dad.”

“Your coffee with some random Atypical has to do with Dad?” Aaron asked, his face scrunching up.

“Look, I can’t talk about it—”

“What do you mean you can’t talk about it!” Aaron shouted and I walked toward him, lowering my voice so we wouldn’t attract Mom and Dad.

“Aaron,” I said in a hushed voice, “did you ever get a weird vibe from the AM?”

“What?”

“When you were there, did you ever get a weird vibe?” I repeated.

“Why?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Just … forget it.” I sighed. “I have to take a shower.”

“Rosie—”

“Bye, Aaron,” I said, grabbing my robe and stomping down the hall to the bathroom.