A few minutes pass before I feel Adam shifting closer. His side presses against mine. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't upset me. I upset me." Thinking I ought to move away from him and actually doing it are two different things. I stay right where I'm at. I can sort of feel the warmth of him through our blankets.

"The last time I cried was when Maggie died. Over applesauce."

"Applesauce?"

"I couldn't get the jar open. It was just...a jar. A stupid jar. I couldn't get it open, and I burst into tears. I can't even cry for real reasons that real people cry over. Like someone dying." The dam has been broken. The tears are coming freely now, soaking the bit of blanket I'm pressing my face into. This is the sort of thing I fought so hard to hide from Maggie and Corey, but it was inevitable. You can't hide this sort of crazy from someone close to you.

But Adam doesn't tell me I'm being unreasonable or stupid or crazy. He pushes his blanket-hood back and tips his face, trying to peer at me. For awhile, he only watches the tears sliding down my cheeks like he's trying to figure them out.

"You know, I ruined the carpet of our dining room once."

I can't help but tilt my head just enough to watch him with one blurry eye.

"What...?"

"My parents were having a dinner party after we moved into our new house. I'd had a really bad day." He pulls his legs up and props his chin atop his knees. "Dad told me I had to stay in my room and not talk to anybody. He always thought...I don't know. I guess he didn't want me meeting his coworkers because he was embarrassed of me. They wanted to show off the house, not their son.

"And I was just...so mad and my feelings were hurt. Mom told me I was being too sensitive. She's always telling me that." A tiny, embarrassed smile pulls at his lips. "So I made myself a sandwich, and threw the jar of jelly on the brand new white carpet. Shattered. Made a huge mess. Left this ugly purple stain. Mom about had a nervous breakdown."

I sniff quietly. "You did it on purpose?"

"Yeah. I felt really bad for it later, but at the time I think I just wanted to be noticed. It didn't work, other than..." He trails off quickly, and I think I see him rubbing his arm as he looks away, like he's remembering an old war wound. "I did all this stuff wanting them to pay attention to me. Then my dad passed away, and Mom...she wouldn't even notice if I pierced every inch of my body and grew a mohawk except to tell me I was humiliating her."

"So you stopped trying."

He ducks his head, running his fingers through the dark hair along the nape of his neck. "Yeah. I guess I did."