"You sure you want to do this?" Kit asked.

"I'm sure." I handed him my Advent Deck. "Can you hold onto this, for now? Just so it doesn't fall into . . . the wrong hands."

"I don't think you have to worry about it. Not a lot of reflective surfaces in prison."

"What if he asks for a glass of water?" I said, giving him a pointed look.

"He's not that -"

"He is that clever," I said, "and you know it. I'll see you in half an hour."

"Don't forget your ID," he said. He gave me the fake driver's license I would need to get in the door . . . if they didn't look at it too closely.

"Thanks." I tucked it in my pocket and went through the front gate.

Ten minutes later I was sitting in a small room, waiting for the door on the far side of the room to open. Very soon, it did.

He was led in by a guard, and seated opposite me, on the other side of the (non-reflective) glass. He raised his eyes and looked at me. And did a double-take.

Just like the man at the front desk had.

"Hello, Drew," I said.

He just stared at me.

"What, nothing to say to your twin brother? Not even a 'hi, how're you doing?'"

"Why are you here?"

"I just wanted to see how you were." I looked past him to where another man was being led in. "Hi, James," I said, although I knew he couldn't hear me. "Maya says hi."

"I'll tell him that," Drew said. "Seriously, why come all this way just for me? What do you want?"

"Just to talk. A lot of stuff has happened in my life, and I thought maybe you might want to know."

"Why?"

"Let me ask you this: what was your childhood like?" I realized how strange it would sound to anyone listening in, given that we were supposed to be brothers, but maybe we were long-lost twins or something. "Were your parents good to you? Did they treat you good?"

He looked away before he said, "Yeah, they were fine. Why?"

"Nothing happened, way back in your formative years, that stayed with you for the rest of your life?"

"No! I had a good life! Not that it's any of your business!"

"I'm just asking because . . . some stuff came up that I thought I was done with, and I was wondering if anything like that ever happened to you."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Stuff like my dad beating me, when I was five years old."

He blinked, but said nothing.

"But I'm good now. I'm seeing someone, once a week, and I'm dealing with it. Also, I . . . I'm with someone now, who's helping me through it."

"What's she like?"

"She's, um, actually a he. That's one of the things I'm coming to terms with. He's pretty nice, actually. He's sweet and funny and nothing fazes him at all. Whenever I start feeling overwhelmed by it all, he starts talking about kittens or something silly, and it really cheers me up."

"So what?" he shrugged. "So you've met a guy who likes kittens. Why are you telling me?"

I decided to cut right to the chase. "My father's been dead for a long time," I said. "I can't confront him about what he did. But I'm guessing yours is still alive."

"He never comes to see me or anything." Again, Drew wouldn't meet my eyes. "I'm such a disappointment to them."

"So write him a letter. Get this out in the open, where you can deal with it. You'll never be able to move on with your life until you do."

"Hey, bro, this is my life. For the next ten years, at least. Why should I bother trying to change things?"

"Isn't that why you're here? To change your life? To think over everything you did wrong and try to be a better person? Well, this is part of it. You need to stop denying that anything happened, and learn to face it. There must be people in here you can talk to."

"Only if I get in a fight or something."

"Don't wait that long. Do what you have to do to get in and see this person. Trust me, you'll feel better once you've gotten this out in the open. And don't forget the letter to your parents. I don't know what exactly happened, but . . . keeping it quiet just doesn't work. You need to talk about it."

"Why do you care so much? I just don't get it. Why does it matter so much to you?" He was starting to grow agitated by my presence. Maybe it was time to go.

"Whether we like it or not," I said, "we have a connection. What happens to you matters to me. I want you to be okay. And you won't be okay until you talk about this."

"All right, I'll do it!" he snapped. "If it makes you happy, I'll go talk to someone! Now will you leave me alone?"

"I'll come back next month," I said, "and see how it's going. I won't give up on you. You need someone on your side."

I stood up. The officer at the door took notice, and moved to Drew's side.

"Wait a minute!" Drew wasn't quite done with me yet. "Just tell me one thing."

"Sure."

"Are you really gay?"

"Are you worried you might be?"

"No, no," he said, a little too quickly. "It's just . . . weird, that's all."

"It was weird for me, too, at first. But I went and talked to some people, and . . . I'm good with it now. I'll see you next month." I glanced over at James, who was still talking to a man in a suit who I presumed was his lawyer, and waved. He didn't wave back.


"Well?" Kit said, once I was safely outside the walls. "How'd it go? What was he like?"

"It's a start," I said. "I don't think he's used to having anyone on his side. It's always been just him against the world. I let him know that I'm here for him."

"Why? After what he did?"

"You still haven't forgiven him for jerking you around, have you?"

"I don't know." Like Drew, he wouldn't meet my eyes. "I do kinda feel sorry for him. Losing everything like that."

"He made some bad choices. But life is full of choices, and if he learns to make the right ones, there's hope for him yet."

"That sounds so wise. Did you learn that from Master Eubulon?"

"No," I said, "actually, I read it on a billboard once."

"A billboard." He sighed and shook his head.

"Hey, I take my wisdom where I can find it. I need all the help I can get."

In that, Drew and I really weren't so different.