Then middle school came, and with it, all the strange, awkward transformations of that age. Hair where there wasn’t any before. Lengthening bones, thickening muscles. Adam’s voice dropped three octaves in a month, and just like that, he no longer wanted to be mistaken for his sister. Adam no longer wanted even to spend time with her. They went from cozy inseparability to pained severance. He shaved his head. Everything he wore had holes in it. He pierced his nose with a pin heated over the stovetop burner. He wanted his birthday celebrated a day later than hers. He wanted his bedroom relocated from the main floor to the basement. He had gone from a reflection of her to a broken mirror, all jagged edges and distorted familiarity.

Their father was a state senator and the owner of a construction firm that specialized in sports arenas and shopping malls. He saw his family as an extension of his career, so he favored and spoiled Annabelle because she remained the good girl, and he came down hard on Adam, who was an embarrassment and a disgrace. Her brother had broken her heart, so Annabelle delighted in seeing him punished. She leaned into her parents’ love by playing flute in the orchestra and signing up for student council and volunteering to usher at the Cornerstone megachurch and maintaining a 4.0 GPA. Adam’s extracurriculars were limited to weed, oxy, light beer, and a failed garage band called Monstyr Attax!

Annabelle sported a lipsticked smile, and he a performative sneer. He dented the walls with his fists. He shattered the taillight of their father’s Mercedes with a swing of his skateboard. He graduated with a 2.0 average, emptied his college savings account, and took off for Austin and then Boulder and then LA. They heard from him intermittently over the years, but in general her parents preferred not to speak of him, as if he could be dug out and burned off like a wart.