But I also start driver’s training and that’s probably the most fun I’ve ever had. I am a natural at it—that’s what my instructor says. Finally, I have a talent. Maybe I’ll become a race-car driver. That would make my dear, protective Mama happy. I laugh a little just thinking about it.

Blake stays holed up in his room every night working on a school project, or so he claims. I think he’s just being emo, but I don’t really care as long as he stays away from me and isn’t planning to blow up the house or something.

I do my homework at the dining table now. It feels nice to be close to people. I don’t know how Blake can stand it, being alone in his room all the time. I like the normal house noises. I like hearing Gracie laugh at cartoons or Dad running the vacuum cleaner or Mama reading aloud something outrageous from the newspaper.

And it finally starts to feel okay that I miss Ellen now and then, but also that I’m done with her. I mean, if I saw her on the street, would I talk to her? Yeah, I would. But now I feel like home is here, not there. That’s a first. And it’s scary. It is. But it’s good. It’s so, so good.

On Thursday, Mama downgrades my groundedness from “indefinitely” to “one week,” so that means on Saturday, I’ll be free if I can avoid getting into more trouble.

Which is almost impossible because I can hardly stand not seeing Cami. On school nights she can’t be out after ten, and here everybody but Gracie is awake until at least that, so it’s too risky for her to sneak over. Plus, somebody’s bound to see the footprints in the snow if they just think to look. I’m sure Blake would jump at the chance to turn my ass in.

So even though it’s a great week, it’s horrible, because all I get of Cami is a few minutes at the bus stop and on the bus, where we pretend nothing’s going on. And by Friday, I’m dying to touch her and hold her, just be close to her and whisper with her in the dark. Instead, after school we sit in our bedrooms four houses away from each other, texting each other like mad and dreaming about tomorrow.

After dinner Friday, Dad decides it’s guys’ night out, and he takes Blake and me to a movie. Some lame Star Wars look-alike, I guess. Blake doesn’t speak to me, but I catch him staring at me throughout the movie. It’s really unsettling. It is. It’s like he thinks I’m behind a one-way mirror or something and he’s watching an interrogation, like a cop. I think he’s doing it on purpose to try and wind me up. Get me in trouble again. I just want to punch him.

But I’ve got only a few hours until I’m free, and there’s no way I’m going to screw that up. Besides, I promised Cami I wouldn’t mess this up. I send a text message to her now and then, though Dad’s frowning on that tonight.

After the movie, we go for something to eat, and Blake’s all embarrassed because what if his friends are here and he’s out with his dad rather than the Crips or Bloods or whatever. Jeez, he’s so immature. He doesn’t have a clue what it’s like to never have this chance. To not have a dad to go out with. I wish he’d just grow up. It’d be great if he got to be homeless and abandoned for a while, just to see what it’s like.

Anyway, I play the good son and I hope it gets me points. I’m going to want a lot of points saved up just in case. But the weird thing is, Dad is not so bad. He’s interesting and has a lot of cool insights about the movie and the graphics and junk like that—stuff you’d never think he’d care or know anything about.

Back at home, Blake slithers to his room. I sit down at the kitchen table with Mama and Dad and we talk about the movie. Mama has to keep shushing Dad and me because Gracie’s asleep and we’re laughing too loud about the bad special effects. But all the while I’m sort of itching to text with Cami. I finger my phone in my pocket.

Then Blake comes out of his room. He’s carrying a red folder. And he’s got a creepy look on his face, almost like he’s a little bit scared about how evil he really is.

CHAPTER 41

Blake walks up to the table and our conversation stops.

“Hey, Blake,” Mama says cheerily, because we’re all pretending we get along today. “Pull up a chair. Did you think the movie was cheesy too?”

Blake doesn’t sit down. Instead, he puts the folder on the table and says, “I can prove that he isn’t Ethan.” His voice cracks when he says my name.

And for a moment, it’s completely silent.

I stand up, feeling the blood rushing to my head. “Sorry. I can’t deal with this crap anymore.” I step aside as calmly as I can and push my chair in, but Blake moves to block me as I round the table.

He stands there inches from me. I can feel the heat coming off him. He’s scared shitless. “No,” he says in a surprisingly even voice. “I want to see your face when I prove to my parents that you’re a fake.”

My jaw aches, but I clench it even harder. Thinking of Cami. Hours away from Saturday. “Mama,” I say, not taking my eyes off Blake. “Will you ask Blake to let me through, please?”

“Blake, honestly,” Mama says. Her voice is sharp.

“I need him to see this,” Blake insists.

“Guys, sit down. Let’s work through it,” Dad says. When we don’t move, he says it louder, more forcefully. “Both of you. Sit down.”

I hesitate a minute longer, but the mantra is in my head. Cami. Cami. Cami. I can’t allow myself to react. I can’t get myself grounded again. If he throws a punch, I won’t move. I’ll take it and let them deal with him. And so I sit. Numb. The ticking of the kitchen clock sounds like a time bomb. I make my eyes dart around the room in time with it.