My pitiful mood stayed with me for most of the weekend. I moped around the house, my cloud raining over my head, because nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I guess I�ll go eat worms! I wanted attention: I wanted my parents to hug me and feed me ice cream and tell me that my broken heart would heal. But of course when they asked what was wrong, I couldn�t tell them, and they just figured I was being a hormonal teenager and told me to get over it. Moping doesn�t fly well in my household, where they expect you to be perky and pleasant at all times. In the end I resorted to faking cheerfulness to make them like me more. It�s not like they even knew the real me anyway.

I didn�t particularly care what Harry thought, him being an insignificant gnat after all, so I took out my hidden frustration on him. He came into my room to ask me something, and I exploded for no reason and pushed him down so hard he got a raspberry on his arms from the carpet. When I wasn�t screaming at him I ignored him, trying to pretend he didn�t exist.

Another time he came in while I was lying on my bed feeling depressed, climbed on top of me, and gently asked why I was so sad.

�I don�t like girls,� I replied, just to see what he would say, and knowing he was too young to make any assumptions.

�Me neither,� he agreed, leaning back against the wall. �Cassandra tried to kiss me at recess the other day, so I kicked her!�

I laughed for the first time since Friday afternoon and noogied the top of his head.

He wasn�t in a very good mood that week, either. All Sunday he trailed me like a horsefly, nagging me to play with him and whining when I tried to ignore him. When I finally slammed my door in his face and hollered at him to leave me alone he burst into tears and ran screaming to his room. The ruckus brought Mum upstairs, and of course I was the one who got scolded.

�Arik, he�s having a bad day,� she tried to explain.

�So am I!� I yelled from where I sat cross-legged on my bed, arms crossed and forehead furrowed. �Why doesn�t anyone care about me?!�

Mum rubbed her head. �Arik, listen up for a minute. He�s upset because a girl in his class had a birthday party today, and the entire class was invited but him. He�s come home from school crying every day for the past week because he doesn�t have any friends. All the kids pick on him, you know. He shouldn�t have to be picked on at home, too.�

I chewed on my lip, starting to feel a tickle of guilt. �I didn�t know.�

�Well, of course you didn�t�you never took the chance to find out, did you?� She sat down next to me and patted my hair. �Come on, Arik, you know how much he looks up to you. It�d really cheer him up if you spent some time with him. Maybe it�ll cheer you up, too.�

I shifted, somehow doubting that.

�Why don�t you two go for a bike ride?� Mum suggested.

I wrinkled my nose. My usual bike rides were for training and exercise, and were thus strenuous and fast. Harry could never in a million years keep up.

�Maybe later,� I said. �I want to call Roger and see what he�s doing.�

I did. He was going to the mall with Marisa. I could come if I wanted!

�Oh, changed your mind?� Mum remarked as I stomped to the garage with my jacket and a perky Harry in tow.

At six, Harry had already ditched his training wheels (which irked me�I�d been almost twice his age before my Dad finally took the training wheels off and got rid of them so I�d be forced to learn how to ride correctly) but he was still dreadfully slow. He tried, of course, those itty-bitty band-aid-strapped legs pedaling as fast as he could, but of course I still had to keep stopping and waiting for him. Far from releasing stress caused by the lovely images my brain was concocting of Marisa and Roger frolicking the mall together, I was getting increasingly annoyed.

�Could you possibly go any slower?� I snapped when he finally caught up to where I had stopped on the side of the road, his little lungs panting heavily.

�It�s my stupid bike!� he insisted, scowling. �It�s SO slow!�

�No, you�re so slow. Come on, let�s keep going.�

I had only agreed to go on this ride to get some time to think, and for exercise, but since I had to look over my shoulder or stop every other minute to make sure Harry hadn�t gotten picked off by a truck, I didn�t get much of either accomplished. Would Roger buy anything for Marisa? �Crap, Harry had stopped to walk his bike up the hill. Did they hold hands while they walked around? �Oh, for the love of God, he�d fallen off!

The route I�d planned on was obviously way too much for him, even though I�d shortened it considerably from my typical many-mile journey. Barely two miles from home, I set my kickstand in a grassy clearing on the side of the road and collapsed in the dead leaves. Harry, panting and gasping, wheeled his bike to the same spot and sat down next to me several minutes later.

�Whatcha doing?� he asked, poking my closed lids until I slapped his wrist away.

�I�m taking a break before we head back. You�re too little to go any further,� I explained sourly.

�Oh,� he said, and started playing with a cricket. Every time he poked it, the insect leapt a good yard away, and he chased it, enthralled.

I lay in the sun, feeling sorry for myself and hating myself for feeling sorry for myself, for I wasn�t worthy of pity. What was the use of obsessing over Roger like this when I knew for a fact I could never get what I wanted from him? Why couldn�t I just get over it, accept that he didn�t like me, accept that I was gay? Maybe I was just masochistic. Maybe I�d have nothing to occupy my time if I actually dealt with some of my problems instead of whining about them.

Caught in a whirlpool of self-obsession, I disregarded Harry�s presence entirely until, by some guiding hand of God and his angels, I chanced to open my eyes. He was still following the cricket. He teased it and it leapt forward�Harry followed it into the road�and the car�!

I screamed and grabbed him, on my feet and my arms around his middle before I�d realized what I was doing�all instinct. I lifted him and held him against my chest, just out of reach as the car in all its clanking and honking horror thundered by in a whirlwind of dust.

We stared at the road, both our eyes wide and our breathing quick as the car disappeared down the road.

�The buggy got runned over,� Harry whispered.

�Yeah, and you nearly did, too!� I exclaimed, unnerved relief washing over me as I realized how true that was. My heart had truly stopped the moment I�d seen that car!

�You saved me,� Harry breathed, eye wide in awe.

�Thank God,� I sighed, and set him down before collapsing into the leaves. �Jesus Christ, that scared me. Don�t ever do that again, okay? Don�t ever run into the road, no matter what you�re chasing!�

He nodded solemnly, and then smiled. �Thanks for saving me from being runned over!�

�Yeah, well, I don�t know what I�d do if you got killed,� I replied.

�Would you be sad?�

�Of course I would! Why would you ask that?�

�But you said you hate me,� he said.

I looked over at him, where he sat on his knees, completely earnest, and I suddenly wanted to cry.

�Harry, I don�t really hate you! I-I thought you knew that?�

He shrugged, honest and nonchalant.

�Harry, I only said that because I was mad at you. I don�t hate you! You bug me sometimes, but I love you; you�re my little brother! Please don�t think I hate you!�

He smiled and hugged me, easily convinced. �Okey-dokey. I love you too!�

He hopped back on his bike, all trauma forgotten. �Let�s go! I wanna keep going!�

�Okay,� I murmured, still shaky. I slung my leg over my bike. �Harry, I don�t want you to tell Mum about this, okay?�

�Huccome?� he asked.

�Because�It�d scare her. She wouldn�t want you to go bike-riding anymore.�

�Ohhh,� Harry agreed, nodding.

We set off again, and this time I made him ride in front of me so I could keep an eye on him�my priorities had been rearranged.

We got home in a little over an hour after stopping several times. Harry was ecstatic, and he ran into the house squealing to Mum about how much fun he�d had and how cool I was. Less than half an hour later he�d conked out on the couch, exhausted.

I stood in the garage for a long time, looking at my bike, just thinking. When I came in the house, Mum had me carry Harry upstairs and put him to bed. I stood in the doorway for several minutes, wondering how someone so boisterous could look so small and harmless when sleeping. I was reminded that I�d felt the same way about Roger.

I had to leave his room, unable to bear the sick feeling festering in my gut.

What kind of person was I, if I�d lead my baby brother to truly believe that I hated him?

Chapter Fourteen...