“I don’t usually talk about him,” I say, wiping my eyes. “People tend to react badly to Jonah. And it really hurts when people think my brother is weird or gross.” What I need to do is shut up, because I’m upsetting myself even more. Memories creep up on me that I would give anything to erase . . . Middle school kids following us and mocking Jonah at the grocery store. A couple with a perfectly behaved toddler glaring at us in an ice cream shop when Jonah bellowed in anger because my mother tried to stop him from eating ice cream with his hands. The little boy at the barbershop who pointed at Jonah and asked his mother, Mommy, what is wrong with that boy? I wish we never had to take him anywhere. People can be so awful. My parents have always told me to try not to get upset about it, that people can seem unkind out of ignorance, but that never made it easier for me.

“I know what it’s like to feel that way about someone you love.” Sam gives me a small, sad smile. “You just want to build a wall around them to protect them. And sometimes it feels like it would be easier to just run away from it all.”

“God, exactly,” I say. “That’s part of why I love the startalk so much.”

“Startalk?” She tilts her head.

“You know, with the stars? The asterisks. And Humphrey. It’s like being swept away to a whole other world.”

“Starworld,” she says, a corner of her mouth quirking upward.

“Starworld,” I repeat, a small smile finding its way to my face. “I like it.”

The bell rings. She jumps and gathers up her things, and I do, too — I have choir, and the music department is clear on the other end of the school.

“Thanks for lunch and everything,” I tell her.

“You’re welcome,” she says. “Actually, thank you.”

I realize we’ve both trusted each other with the most tender thing we have. I touch her arm. “I guess our secrets are safe with each other.”

Sam

My circuits won’t stop malfunctioning after my unexpected lunch hour with Zoe. I keep waiting for people to look at me differently, like they know my secrets, but it doesn’t happen. She’s as good as her word. By AP Calculus on Thursday, I’m so obsessed with unraveling why Zoe kept a promise to someone as insignificant as me that I barely manage to take notes. Instead, the margins of my notebook fill with doodles that encroach on the neatly penned formulas.