“I’ll be back in a bit,” Arch said. “Don’t let him go anywhere.”

“How’s Mother?” Vanessa asked. “Did she ask about Jamie?”

“I think she’s having too much fun to care,” Arch said. “She’s showing Charlie’s mother off like she’s some sort of acquisition.”

“Oh God,” Vanessa said, turning toward me. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “Mom’s having a good time, I think.”

“And Daddy?” Vanessa asked.

“Didn’t see him,” Arch said. “He’s probably in the study having man talk with the big dogs.”

“That’s good, I guess,” Vanessa said.

I enjoyed the idea of teaming up with Arch and Vanessa, conspiring to preserve the illusion of domestic bliss in the Haltom household. I tried not to smile.

“What if Jamie tries to go inside?” I said. “I don’t think I could stop him.”

“Just turn on a video game,” Arch said. “He’ll stay out here all night.”

“Good idea,” I said.

Arch could see how excited I was about being entrusted with what I took to be a vital and significant responsibility.

“We should go,” Arch said.

Vanessa leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she said. “You’re such a good friend.”

I watched the two of them walk back toward the house, my body thrumming, a faint breeze from the open door cooling the spot where Vanessa’s damp lips had touched my skin.

Back inside the pool house, Jamie was making a mess of himself.

“I’m such a fucking loser,” he moaned.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I’m a fucking joke. Right now, all those assholes are in there laughing at me. I should just kill myself already. No one would care.”

“Don’t talk crazy,” I said. “Come on, let’s play some vids.”

As usual, Arch was right. Once I turned on the Nintendo, Jamie calmed down into a benign state of inebriation.

In retrospect, Jamie’s self-loathing made perfect sense. By the time he’d reached high school, the weight of expectations had ground his ego into grist. His father was charismatic and commanding. His mother was frosty and supercilious. His twin sister was blond and blue-eyed and leggy and clever. Jamie, on the other hand, was awkward and ungainly. He was neither an athlete nor a scholar. He was not hale or beautiful. If we’d all been born pigs, Jamie would have been the runt of the litter, denied the sow’s teats and left to starve. And in a way, Jamie had been starving, for a very long time—more so since Arch’s father’s death had made it possible for Jim Haltom to shift his attentions to Arch.

As someone who had never known his father nor grown up in luxury, I’d have been entitled to hate Jamie. But I felt sorry for him.