I ’m standing over my brother. I can feel my face reddening and hair frizzling away so uninhibited it could be a lion’s mane.
He bites his lip. He’s stuck he’s cornered. “Wait I can explain ” he says.
I cannot hear it. Not when we’re talking about my therapy journal. No teen’s petty privacies. I mean the stuff in there hurts.
“I I just came up here to get my Chumash. You took it last week and and I saw um this and I put it in my pocket because I didn’t want you to know I’d seen it…” His voice trails off stupid sounding.
