I'd like to say from then on things were different, and that we talked it over and came to an understanding, and everything worked out with hugs all around. But this isn't Hollywood, and it wasn't like that.

I've had a rough time lately, I told them. I'm just trying to get by. It's been bad, but I'm better now, and I'll be okay. And Arik patted my shoulder, and we waited for our parents to make the next move, but they didn't do anything significant. My mother kissed my cheek and said she was glad I'd had a good summer and my father looked at me strangely, and then they went downstairs and cleaned up dinner. No emotional bawlfest, no soul-felt revelations. Arik shrugged, and we went downstairs and put dishes away while talking about the president's new policy with China.

Mum and Dad didn't change. For the next few years, they still thought I dressed like an idiot and wasted my time with my shitty music and that Goddamn-mesmerizing-Internet. They still expected Arik to spew good news and smiles like a bubbler, and they told me they hoped I had picked up some of my brother's work ethic and sense of class while on the ship. But now I held my tongue more, as I'd promised, and Arik smiled less, as he'd promised.

Arik really did try, and I was proud of him. Once, when Mum and Dad were ranting that I wore too much black, he actually yelled at them to leave me alone and focus on something less trivial. He flinched when Dad barked back, "Don't tell me how to raise my son!" but he clenched his teeth and glared instead of apologizing, and I was so proud I could have hugged him.

He gets that a lot now. Just because you babysit him in the summer doesn't mean you know how to be a parent! It makes me laugh, because I love to see them annoyed at Arik for once, and they don't realize that Arik has done a much better job of helping me grow up than they have.

We've both been true to our word, mostly. Mum got on my case about the state of my room one day, but I managed to bite my tongue and force a nod instead of telling her to go to hell. She also asked Arik, again, if he'd managed to forget about Bryce, and Arik looked her in the eye and said, "I miss him every single day of my life." Of course, I'm still a brat, and Arik is still Wonder Boy, but we're making progress, one baby step at a time.

We'll probably be working on living with our parents for the rest of our lives, but at least we're a 'we' now. It's not just me and my uninhibited anger; not just Arik and his lonely tears. We have each other, and we have telephones, cars, and AOL Instant Messenger. We're both off our rockers, but two nutters together beats two nutters along any day.

The last week or so of summer was hectic, but I stayed with Arik regardless. He even took me shopping for back-to-school supplies, in which we bought way too many rainbow pencils and I stuck Post-it notes with Arik's phone number all around the store. I made several thousand dollars from my work on the ship, and though Arik made me put most of it in the bank, he also let me splurge on clothes and CDs up the wazoo. I managed to get through the rest of the summer without any more angsty bawl-sessions, which was good, as I was a few days from sixteen and male, after all, and such things should be kept under wraps.

My braces came off a few days before school recommenced, which was wonderful, as I no longer resembled a chickenwire fence. By the end of summer my hair had grown several inches, and the black at the ends was fading. I also trimmed it so that it was a little less psychotic. By the end of the summer, my teeth were straight and pearly, my acne was mostly gone, I was tan, and my hair didn't look like I'd gotten in a fight with Edward Scissorhands. I'd also had a growth spurt, and my voice was doing strange things again. Arik kept making fun of me for it. I kept telling him his sideburns were uneven and his hair was thinning in the back. He would then spend the next few days peering neurotically into mirrors.

However, I did not gain weight. I have decided that I am meant to be stick-thin for life and am not destined for a stomach like Arik's. Have also decided to focus on using my personality, supreme taste in music, and wallet to get girls due to deficiencies in the looks department. Life is good.

On the very last day of August, the last day of summer vacation, Arik had to return me. My summer of freedom, my summer with my brother, was done with, and I had to resume life at the Redde household for another nine months. The thought made me want to cry. But I didn't. When Arik gave me a long hug goodbye and noogied the top of my head affectionately, I had to smile back through tightly clamped jaws, afraid of what would happen if I opened them.

"Hey, I'll be around, kid. I'll still pick you up from school when I can. You know I really don't have anything better to do."

I smiled back at him through my clenched jaw and watched as he drove away and nearly hit the mailbox like he always does. My body felt leaden.

Next summer was very far away.

With me back in the house all the time again, my parents seemed to be trying their hardest to maintain peace. None of us wanted a repeat of last spring. For a little while at least, they didn't hassle me as much, and they used softer voices when talking to me. Instead of "Harrison, get off your ass and get down here now!" it was "Harry, could you come here?" In return, I tried to be docile and obedient. The best way to go about this was to simply not speak any more than was absolutely necessary.

This style was easier on my ears than the old method, but in a way it was as if we had drifted farther apart than ever. There was something personal about a good, heated argument; now we were little more than polite strangers. Perhaps I was becoming more like Arik, not bringing up what I was really thinking just for the sake of keeping the peace. That was what they had wanted all along, another Arik, but I wondered if they realized they were forever losing another son. Someday, would I change, and they'd forget who I once was, and they'd tell Romey to be more like me, and everything they thought I was would be an illusion?

It's not impossible.

On that note, Arik and I had decided to see to it Romey didn't end up as unbalanced as us. God forbid they ever tell her that she should 'act more like your brothers.' I tried to be nicer to her. That little pint-sized bitch, she spattered hot pink nail polish all over me when I was trying to play with her and accidentally stepped on her Barbie or something.

Screw her, that little she-devil can fend for herself.

She broke her leg on my birthday, September ninth, while chasing some kid across the jungle gym at school. It was my sixteenth birthday, and I came home from school to an empty house and a note on the kitchen table explaining that everyone was at the hospital and there was some leftover meatloaf in the freezer. I think in the chaos of her injury they completely forgot it was my birthday.

One person remembered. Arik picked me up and we went to a Chinese food restaurant and spent hours checking out hot Asian waiters/waitresses while making immature gestures with our chopsticks. He picked me up a used Playstation for a present. I had lusted for one for ages, but Mum wouldn't let me have one, so we decided to store it on the ship and keep it as our secret. I didn't mind that it was used or that it was a PS1 and not a PS2; it was still so cool, and I liked to wonder about who had owned and loved it before me. Maybe it had been a chick. Maybe she was cute.

Besides, it wasn't like I could get a car or anything. Blind kids don't drive.

What can be said about tenth grade?

Well, it beat ninth.

The lack of Dr. Dingle was enough by itself. I always made sure to greet him enthusiastically every time we crossed paths, just to irritate him. Alas, I missed Miss Monough, though I visited her frequently. She was glad to hear that I'd had a good summer, and was astounded that I no longer wanted Arik's decapitated head on a pike. My math teacher this year was a sweet old lady with wrinkled hands, a lot of fuzzy sweaters, and a velvety personality�velvety, that is, the way bread mold is soft. She wasn't very interesting or challenging, and we couldn't speak too fast or she would get confused. However, she liked me, as I got a perfect score on every test and quiz she threw at me. My English teacher wasn't particularly horrible�not easy and not interesting, but definitely not detestable Dr. Dingle. I still had Monsieur Debussy. My history teacher was a jerk, but that's the way it goes. I hoped I could make highest honors this year now that I didn't have Dingle rapping my desk with his pointerstick. My first interim was all A's, and so I was hopeful. Maybe this would be the year I'd make great grades. Maybe this would be the year I got a girlfriend.

I had hoped that Justin Davison and company had grown up some over the summer, and that for once I'd be able to walk down the hallways without glancing warily in all directions.

But of course, I am still Harris Redde, and only so many good things can happen to me at one time.

On the very first day of school, Justin grabbed my backpack and yanked me backwards so hard I scraped up my elbows. "Welcome back, fag! Did you miss me?" he brayed, sending his cronies into hysterics. He then spat on me and lumbered down the hallway, shoving the freshmen, pinching female rear-ends, and hollering to his fellow pond scum.

Apparently he'd grown over the summer, or maybe I'd just forgotten what his massive shoulders and biceps looked like. Yeah, he grew up�vertically. Regardless, my ego had been patched up over the summer, and I was determined to not take any crap from him this year. Futile, perhaps, but I was going to stand up to him.

One day in October after he'd hassled me all day, I decided I'd had enough. I gathered Lin and Georgie, and we met Justin and a few of his gang outside the school once classes were out. I'm not sure if we meant for it to wind up as a full-fledged fight, for last I checked we weren't total idiots, but that's what it became in a hurry.

I managed to get one decent punch on Justin before he grabbed my arms and tackled me to the ground, his fists flying like pistons. Lin kicked wildly and Georgie flailed pathetically�they managed to get Justin off me just long enough for me to stand up. A crowd had encircled us, hooting that infamous war cry: Fight! Fight!�but I didn't have long to stare and gawk, for Justin leveled me with a fist to the jaw.

And time suddenly seemed to stop�kids were fleeing , Justin had my shirt clenched in his fist, but he was frozen, transfixed on something-someone was shouting, "Break it up, break it up!"

And then�WHAM! Someone gave Justin such a boot in the rear-end that he lifted off the ground and landed beyond me, rolling and howling. I was swearing�holy shit, that was Arik!

Arik strode forcefully over to Justin and yanked him up off the ground by the front of his T-shirt, lifting him nearly off his toes even though they were the same height.

"Let go of me, you faggot!" Justin bellowed, and I'm not even sure if he realized Arik was gay, but it was his own sour luck that he chose that insult out of all possibilities.

Arik shook Justin, tearing his shirt and rattling his body as if he were a ragdoll and not a nearly full-grown man. "That's right, I AM a faggot, and if you EVER touch my brother again, I'll show you how HARD a faggot will KICK YOUR GODDAMN PUSSY ASS, GOT IT?!"

He stopped shaking Justin to listen for an answer, but Justin was gawking, his marbles spinning, and when he didn't respond, Arik hollered, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND, YOU PATHETIC LITTLE BASTARD?!"

"Y-yes! O-okay! Let me go!" Justin screeched. Arik threw him down, and Justin scrambled to his feet. His cronies had long deserted him, and he tore off, running in a dead-sprint to get as far away from Arik Redde as his steroid-pumped legs would carry him.

And then it was just me and my pals, the three of us staring up at my older brother with eyes the size of baseballs.

"Harry, are you okay?" Arik shrieked, his voice soft again as he instantly collapsed out of mother-grizzly mode.

I gawked up at him. I pointed a finger in his face and began to guffaw hysterically. "That was awesome!" I shrieked.

"Are you okay?!" Arik repeated, but I was deranged with laughter and couldn't stop.

"Arik, that was SO COOL!" Georgie shrieked. Lin let out a long swear-phrase in Chinese.

Arik turned away from me and looked over at them. "Well, I think Harry's had a few more screws knocked loose, but are you two okay?"

"Yeah, we're okay," Georgie said, and Lin nodded in agreement and patted his hair back into place. "They really just go after Harris."

"AHAHAHAHA! YOU BEAT UP JUSTIN DAVISON!" I yowled, still pointing. Arik pulled my finger out of his face.

"Kid, are you OKAY?"

I swallowed my laughter and wheezed for a few moments, trying not to choke to death on giggles. "I'm GREAT," I panted. "Just a little bruised, that's all."

"Hmm, bleeding, too," Arik observed, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and holding it up to my nose. "Now, what happened?"

"What are you doing here?" I interjected.

"�I came to pick you up, and I couldn't find you. One of your friends said you were in a fight out back, so I came running. My God, Harry, that's the kid who's always after you? He's MASSIVE!"

I'd told Arik all about my bully problems, which had apparently been a good move on my part. �My brother had just beaten up Justin Davison!

"Ha, he won't go after you anymore, that's for sure!" Georgie exclaimed.

"Unless he decides he wants revenge and goes after you twice as badly," pointed out Lin, the ever-tactful.

Georgie shot him a look.

"What?" Lin asked.

Arik and I ignored my compadres' banter while he gave me a quick check-up to see if any lasting damage had been done.

"I can't believe you beat the shit out of him like that," I giggled, in awe.

Arik laughed. "Yeah, I haven't done anything like that since college. I didn't know I still had it in me! What a rush!"

"It was awesome!"

Arik smiled and helped me to my feet. "Yeah, well, there are three people that I'd kill to defend. Bryce is one, Romey's a second�" he paused to sling an arm around my shoulder to support me, "�and you're the third."

"You'd kill someone if they were hurting me?"

"In a heartbeat," he replied without hesitating.

Somehow, that made me feel incredibly safe.

Justin avoided me for a few weeks, but then resumed his usual harassment. Still, he makes himself scarce whenever Arik is around. And Arik's around a lot now. He picks me up at school more often than not. It's kind of a hassle for him to go from the boatyard to the school, to home, and then back to the boatyard, but it's our routine, it beats the bus, and he really doesn't have anything better to do.

It's not the same as it was last year, though. Last year he was perky and spastic every day, asking about my day in the manner of a 50's homemaker, and it was completely obnoxious. Now, thank God, he usually doesn't get out of the car and wave around like a dipshit until I see him. Nope, now he makes me find him. Sometimes he starts to drive away as I reach for the door and makes me chase him around the parking lot for fifteen minutes until one of the bus drivers yells at us. If he's in a bad mood, he'll bark, "Get in the damn car, moron�and HURRY UP!" and will glare wordlessly over the dashboard the whole time. If he's feeling down, he'll make that sort of lonely sigh where I know he wants me to ask what's wrong, but if I do ask, he won't tell me unless I pry. Usually it's still Bryce, though Arik does need to stop watching shows about anti-gay rallies and starving children in Haiti. Most of the time he's upbeat, but regardless, I'd rather have to deal with him on his down days than see him lie to me again.

Plus, it turns out he can forge Mum's signature perfectly.

Unfortunately, he still has no life. I am working on it. And I must say, I am one devoted little brother, for I have gone into all manner of gay establishments in search of a date for him (even though he always tells me not to.) Lesser heteros have quailed in some of the positions I have gotten myself into. Yes, in the name of my brother's happiness, I have been hit on by really creepy men who are old enough to be my father. You'd think Arik would at least put some effort into finding a new boyfriend considering my loving dedication, but no. He says the only kind of guys he likes are 6'6" blondes from Vermont. Which doesn't do anyone any good, BUT WHAT DO I KNOW, I'M JUST THE STRAIGHT KID.

I have been reading up a lot on gay rights and such since I started caring about someone other than myself. Arik's homophobia really bothers me, and I'm determined to help him get over it. I even made myself a rainbow 'support' bracelet that I wear every day. Arik moaned when he saw it and told me not to wear it, but I could tell it made him happy.

But he's still a loser.

So this is my life.

My parents still don't like me much, they still think Arik is mostly wonderful, my vision is getting worse, and Justin still harasses me. And I still don't have a girlfriend.

Sometimes I stop and contemplate this life of mine. What was the point of the past few months? All the yelling and the crying and the destruction�did anything change?

I think I've changed. I'm not as vulnerable as I was last year. I'm more detached; my insides are harder. I don't know if that's good, but I do cry less. When my parents scream at me and tell me everything I'm doing is wrong, I don't throw myself on the floor and bawl, and I don't throw things at them. I just leave. I grit my teeth and close my eyes, and I try to suppress it. I get angry and frustrated, not depressed. I've moved beyond blaming myself for not being what they want. �Though I still throw things, sometimes. I'm still me, after all.

My parents are fundamentally flawed, and their antagonisms are utterly asinine. They want me to be Arik, and they want my brother to be Arik, and yet neither of them realizes that this noble Arik is an illusion. They're insecure themselves; why would they fret so much about their children's images if they didn't view the children as a direct reflection on themselves? It occurred to me that this is typical in the airship business my parents inhabit: businesses are almost always passed on from father to son, and thus a son is considered a direct extension of the father. If the son is a good man and a fine pilot, then his fine qualities reflect upon the father; if the son is, say, homosexual or a disfigured troublemaker, then the father's standing decreases among other pilots, for the father must have done something wrong to create such disappointments. It's all an unspoken, subconscious, and half-imagined dance, of course, but such is the shallowness of my father. I'll never submit to his idiocy just so that he can feel better about himself. Fuck you, Dad, you're immature, you're a fool, and I cannot respect you. Mum, at least, has potential, because deep down she does indeed care about someone other than herself.

Of course, I am flawed also: I'm jealous, hotheaded, stubborn, and melodramatic. I inherited my father's temper, that's for sure. I am extremely confused about the way the world works, but I'm still only sixteen. I have time to figure it out.

I try not to let my parents bother me so much. I'll probably never be fully comfortable with them, and I'll probably never be able to talk to them as I'd like, but I try not to care about that. I have Arik; he's my family. We bicker and tease each other, and sometimes we drive each other crazy, but at the end of the day, we still love each other just the way we are. We're improving and supporting each other. He's always there when I need him, and I'm extremely grateful for it.

So this is me. Harrison-Addison Redde, the skinny kid with messy hair and one eye. I love music and have wonderful friends; I bitch about my life because I don't like my parents; I'm probably spoiled rotten, but I have a big heart. There's a lot I don't know, but I have come to terms with that.

I still run away every now and then. Although I promised Arik I'd stop, I can't help it; the love of freedom and defiance is as much a part of me as my defunct eyes. So when I'm angry or stressed, or I just want to get away, I climb out my window or stroll out the front door, and I don't come back for hours. Mum and Dad don't worry or call the police anymore. They know where I go.

Because no matter what hour of day or hellish time of night I show up at the boatyard, Arik always lets me in.

end.

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