He gnaws on a sunflower seed and spits the shell on to the grass. ‘Sure. Family’s weird, b-b-because you never get to have any more, you know? What you’ve got is all you’ve g-g-got. And ours, it’s – I mean, now it’s literally just me and my mom.’

What you’ve got is all you’ve got. I scrunch my face as a reflex.

Ellis suddenly remembers. ‘Oh, your – I’m sorry, I –’

‘It’s OK.’ He doesn’t know that, yes, what he said has hurt me, but it’s hurt me in the exact opposite way he thinks. I’m not upset that I’ve lost something irreplaceable, but that what I had in the first place was always what I was due. I understand what Ellis was saying even if I disagree completely.

What you’ve got is all you’ve got.

‘C-can I ask you about your sister?’ he says finally.

I shift. I’d sort of forgotten that I told him about her. ‘Sure.’

‘What was she like?’

‘Well, she was six years older than me, first of all. Bit of a strange gap when you’re little, I guess.’

‘Oh. Wow.’

‘My dad wanted two kids but my parents had trouble conceiving.’ I don’t mention what became of my mom as a result of my existence. ‘But it all worked out because she was amazing.’

Ellis’s expression opens up.

‘She was smart. Smarter than just about everyone. This is such a small thing, but I remember – I had this crappy flip phone when I was nine, for emergencies, and something had happened at school. That’s the funny thing, I guess – I don’t even remember what it was, but I was so upset that I called her from the bathroom and she cut class to come and pick me up. She’d said it was a family emergency. And it was, in a way. She called me out of school and took me to the mall where we got looks all day because, you know, they were, like, why aren’t they in school?’ I let the artificial memory ooze in between my teeth, treacly and thick, lost in the mythology of who she might have been.

Ellis is quiet. ‘What happened? You said she disappeared, b-b-but …’

‘We were hiking. I lost track of her in the woods and she never came out.’

Even the trees lean in to listen. ‘I’m so sorry.’ And he’s crying again, like he did that night outside the police station. One fat tear that rolls quickly down his face and splats on to his exposed shin.

‘I do miss her,’ I admit.

He pulls me into a hug. I’m surprised when I don’t flinch, and even more surprised at my disappointment when he pulls away.

‘I-I’m sure you do,’ he says. ‘I would’ve loved a brother. Or a sister. Doesn’t matter.’