There was a knock at the door, and none other than Benedict Arnold himself poked his head in, asking, "Hey, man, what's up?"

I pulled myself upright and glared viciously at him. When he saw that I'd been crying, he gasped and rushed over.

"What's wrong?" he asked, trying to touch my upper arm.

I threw his arm off and spat onto the front of his shirt. "Get away from me," I hissed.

He gawked at me as if he'd been hit in the face. "W-what's going on? Harry, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Don't pretend you don't know! You back-stabbing bastard!"

"What?" he shrieked. "I've been sticking up for you all night! What the hell are you talking about?"

"You make me sick!" I yelled back. "Spewing that bullshit, trying to make yourself look good! You're such a coward!"

His face went stony. "So I lied, so what? It doesn't hurt you."

"You lied! You said you were going to stop lying to them!"

"I never promised that."

I seized my pillow and hurled it at his head. He ducked it.

"I thought you were going to help me! I thought you were going to stop outshining me on everything! I thought we were going to change things! But, no, you're still playing Mr. Fucking Perfect, and I'm still the unimportant brat! All they asked about me was whether I fucking behaved for fucking Arik the Golden Boy!"

"I don't see what this has to do with me. If it's Mum and Dad's praise you want, then do something praiseworthy! You could start by dropping that sullen, sulky act! It'd help if you actually contributed something to conversation once and a while! Christ, Harry, you honestly expect things to improve without changing your own attitude?"

I leapt to my knees and pounded him soundly in the chest with my fists. "Stop it!" I shrieked. "You're talking just like them! You said you'd help me!"

Arik stepped back with a sigh. He ran his hand through his hair, stressed. "Well, I'm sorry everything I do is wrong. I'm going back downstairs."

My temper flared as he turned and reached for the door.

"You lying coward!" I screamed, leaping to my feet. "You're pathetic! You're absolutely fucking pathetic! No wonder Bryce left you!"

He froze.

I dropped to my knees. I'd gone too far.

Slowly, slowly, my brother turned to face me. His face had gone dark and shiny with tears.

"That is why he left me," he whispered. "You're right. I'm a coward. I'm a liar. I'm pathetic. I wouldn't even hold his hand in public, you know. I was too scared, too self-conscious�I thought people would stare and talk�I thought they'd make fun of us. I wouldn't stick up for myself or for him, not even to my own parents. I spent more time thinking about everything I disliked about myself than I did taking care of Bryce. I lied. If he got mad at me, I burst into tears.

"So, you're right, Harry. I am a lying, pathetic coward. It's all I've ever been. I wish I wasn't. Christ Almighty, I wish I wasn't, and I wish I hadn't destroyed the only good thing that's ever happened to me�and I wish Bryce was still here, so I could make it up to him. But he's not, and I have to live with what I did. I'll probably never see him again all because I am that fucking inept at life. I'm sorry if you thought I was some great person, because I'm not. I'm sorry if I let you down. It wasn't my intent. I try, Harry, I try, but it never works out. I really was going to try to stop lying so much, you know. But as soon as we started talking, I panicked. And hell, if I let Bryce down, and I let you down, at least I can still make my parents proud. Yeah, I'm an idiot. Hate me. I deserve it."

My chest felt heavy, and I couldn't meet his gaze. "I didn't�I didn't mean it that way," I mumbled stupidly, because I had to say something. "And I-I don't hate you. Don't say such terrible things about yourself."

"Even if it's the truth?"

"You're not that bad."

He laughed mirthlessly. "Apparently, I am."

"�At least you were trying to make me look good. I did notice that. Thank you." He sat down next to me, and I poked his arm. "Besides, I still love you, and Bryce stuck around for six whole years. He must not have hated you too much. You're actually fun to be around when you're not mopey."

That made him grin, a little anyway.

"I think it's this house," I continued. "It brings out the worst in all of us. Mum and Dad have created an asphyxiating atmosphere that makes me lose my temper and you lie compulsively. It's subtle, but whatever they've done has really screwed us over permanently."

"You blame them for everything?"

"It's healthier than blaming myself." I pressed my face against his thick arm. "Arik, I want to go home," I murmured, not thinking about what I meant. I meant the airship.

"Harry, you are home," he replied softly, his voice sad.

"Let's leave. Both of us. We're happier at the ship."

"Harry�"

"Arik, can I stay with you? After the summer ends, I mean. I'll still go to school�I can walk to the bus stop, and you don't do business during the school year anyway!"

Arik tensed. "I don't know about that. You're only fifteen�you still need to be home, with your family."

"I hate it here! It's so awkward! Even when we're getting along, like tonight, it just feels so wrong. I can't talk to them, Arik. I can barely look at them! I'm afraid of doing something that will make them angry, because I can't bear to have them scream at me again. I'm tired of being told how stupid and ugly and worthless I am. I barely survived this year, Arik! I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't rescued me! This isn't my home! This isn't my family!"

Arik curled his arms around me and put his chin on the top of my head, not knowing how else to respond to that. My head spun. I wanted to get out of here. I wanted to go back to the ship and relive summer all over again. I wanted to stay with Arik, but he was scaring me with his self-deprecating talk and his easy lies. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

I felt the weight of Arik's chin lift off my scalp as someone else approached. I opened my eyes and lurched-it was Mum.

"Harry, what's the matter?" she whimpered.

Oh, hell, no, I didn't want her attention�I was confused enough as is! I'd finally gotten Arik back to normal; I didn't want him to retreat back under his mask again because Mum and Dad had become nosy. I burst into tears and pressed my face against Arik's chest.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Mum asked. When I didn't answer, she turned to Arik. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's�upset," Arik murmured.

"Well, I can see that!" Mum snapped.

"What's going on?" came a new voice from the doorway�Dad's. "Harrison? Molly, why is he crying?"

"I don't know!" Mum cried. "Harry, what's wrong?"

"Go away!" I wailed. "Please, leave me alone!"

Dad leaned over me. "Harrison, calm down, what's going on?"

Arik put his hand on Dad's shoulder and pushed him back. "He said he wanted to be left alone! Mum, Dad, please, just leave us alone!"

"What's going on? I'd like to know why my sixteen year-old son is bawling his eyes out! Arik, what�"

"I said leave us alone!" Arik shouted. Mum and Dad jumped at his tone�Arik never yelled at them! "Get out!"

Too stunned to reply, our parents slunk from the room, pushing a nosy Romey away from my door. Arik pulled away and closed the door behind them. I wiped my face with my sleeve.

"You yelled at them," I said, impressed.

"I guess."

I grinned. "See, it's not that hard! Watch, if you keep working at it, eventually you'll start throwing cups at their head and everything!"

"And what a triumph that would be." He walked away from the door and stood by my bed, arms folded. "All right, now that that disruption is taken care of�are you okay? I worry when I see you upset like that, and I could tell you were uncomfortable at dinner. Were you just mad because I was lying to them and being generally obnoxious?"

"Yeah," I mumbled noncommittally. "I felt betrayed, you know? And I-I dunno�I got kind of scared. Arik, you lie so easily and so well. You're the only one in this family that I love�you're all I have-but how can I be sure you're not lying to me about everything?"

There was a pained twinge in his pale eyes. "I've never lied to you, Harry."

"How can I be sure? You lie to everyone else."

He sighed. "I have no reason to lie to you. I'm not afraid of you, or of losing you. What would I gain from lying to you? Besides, I need to have at least one person to be completely honest with. For example, I think your hair looks funny that short."

I smiled in spite of myself. "Okay, I believe you."

"If I contradict myself, it's because I'm completely confused, too. I'm incompetent, Harry. I'm not perfect."

Now I couldn't help grinning. "I know. That's why I like you�so can I please stay with you for longer? I'm sick of this joint."

Arik sighed tiredly. "No, you can't. Running away from your problems with Mum and Dad isn't going to fix them. Hell, making them leave the room just now probably wasn't the right idea, either. They were genuinely concerned, but you pushed them away."

"They would have made it worse."

"You have the wrong attitude."

"Excuse me?"

"They love you, Harry, but you don't give them a chance to show it. You're unrealistically pessimistic, and you're as stubborn as they come."

I snorted nastily. "They don't love me."

"Stop saying that! You've always been precious to them, because they're keenly aware of your mortality. Why do you think there's a full ten years between us? You always forget that you had an older sister, even if she only lived for a few days. After she died, Mum and Dad were really scared about having another kid, in case he or she died, too. But then you were born, and you were little, but you were healthy, and Mum and Dad were so relieved. Of course, then you hurt your eyes when you were four. You're lucky all you got from that injury was blindness�the infection nearly killed you. I was in eighth grade then, and I remember it well. I had never seen Mum and Dad as scared as they were then�until the night you ran away.

"Harry, they're over�protective. They think you're a lot more fragile than you are, but can you blame them? You're little, and you can be reckless. They worry about your eyesight, and your future. They're sticklers about your behavior because they're afraid you're going to get hurt. Besides, you're very strong-willed. I was never like that at all, and so they don't know how to deal with it. Our parents grew up in strict families where no one acted like you do. I don't condone the things they say to you�and especially not how they hit you�but they really don't know what else to do."

"Whatever," I muttered, sulking.

"That's the kind of attitude that got you here in the first place! From the way you talk, it sounds as if you'd prefer it if Mum and Dad truly hated you! You wallow in your misery!"

"You would know a lot about that," I snapped.

He chose to ignore that remark, though his eyes narrowed. "They can tell you're upset. They used to ask me all the time, 'why is Harry so sad, why is he so violent?' They were sure you were mentally ill."

"Yeah, well, they also thought I was on pot."

"Hey, you had me worried, too, and I know what mental illness and substance abuse looks like. You really didn't help the situation by throwing tantrums, giving them the silent treatment, and hacking all your hair off."

"I didn't do that stuff on purpose, you know. It just kind of�happened. I really did come close to losing my mind."

"Yeah, well�" he said. "I don't want to see it repeated this school year. I know you get angry, but you have to stop the crazy shit. No more running off, no more breaking things. No, don't interrupt me! Acting crazy may make you feel good for the moment, but in the long run, it just makes the situation worse. You have to work to stop those tendencies. You saw how things escalated last spring: one thing led to another, and by the end you were depressed and destructive."

I pouted, though he had a point.

"Harry, you have to try to mend your relationship with Mum and Dad. You push them away again and again, and then you wonder why they only speak to you to yell at you. They know nothing about you, because you never speak to each other. Have you ever even talked to them about how you feel?�Not counting the times you threw cups at their heads."

I shifted uneasily. "Well, not really. Whenever I so much as open my mouth, they find something to criticize."

Arik sat down next to me and stroked my hair. "Regardless, I want you to try. Corner Mum when she's in a good mood. Butter her up by saying you love her, then calmly explain that you wish she'd be easier on your grades, and ask her to tell Dad to lighten up on the insults. You'll have more luck with Mum. Believe it or not, she's more sympathetic. For the time being, stay out of Dad's way. Try your hardest not to upset him."

"You want me to start acting like you?" I asked, suspicious.

He shook his head. "Not at all. Don't lie. Don't fake it. Just�tone it down. Be nice. Try to restrain yourself when you're angry. Do some extra chores or something." He laughed and ruffled my hair when I made a face. "I know, kid, I know, but I really think little things like that might do wonders. It's worth a shot�what do you have to lose?

"I really do want to help you with this problem, Harry. I can't�as much as I'd like to be�I can't be here every single day with you. And I certainly can't raise you by myself. But I will help you, and I'll be here when you need me. You can call me or come get me at any time, okay? I think I owe you that much."

I turned and smiled up at him, feeling my eye burn again and not trusting myself to speak. He leaned in and kissed the side of my head. "Love you, kid," he said. "Now, c'mon."

He stood up, and I followed him across the room. As he reached for the door, he turned and said, "Now, you know they've been waiting outside to see what the heck is going on. When I open this door, I want you to give Mum a hug."

"What?!"

"The only way this thing is going to get any better is if you work on it personally. You can start by hugging your mother. It may be awkward, and it may bruise your pride, but it will make her happy, and that can only help!"

We stood by the door, preparing.

"Will you promise you'll stop letting Mum and Dad make you feel so miserable?" I asked him.

"I'll try."

"Will you promise you'll work on liking yourself more?"

"I'll try, Harry, I'll try."

"Okay. I'll do it."

He opened the door. Mum and Dad were talking in low, urgent voices in the hallway, and when the door opened, they leapt in front of us, their drawn faces tossing concerned inquiries left and right. What was wrong? They wanted to know. Was I okay? Did I need help? Had something happened? Mum had her hands on my shoulders, searching my face for an explanation to my tears, my silence, and my months of insanity. I glanced up at my brother. The corners of his mouth turned up. Tentatively, I reached out and embraced my mother for the first time in a year.

She cried.

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