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step bringing them closer to their parents’ bedroom. Their door was pulled to, but not completely closed. He leaned heavily against the wall. The tranquilizer caused him to feel slow and stupid as he pressed his palm against his forehead to stop the hallway from spinning.
    “You saw what happened tonight. It was Allen’s first real shot at something normal. We can’t keep sacrificing them to try to save him. It’s been two years, Michelle, and he’s not getting any better.” His father’s voice sounded heavy with tears that Aaron knew he would never shed, not over him, anyway.
“He has a name, John.” The sharp edge in his mother’s voice did nothing to cut the tension as it leaked from the bedroom into the hallway.
     
Aaron
     
Aaron stood listening in stunned disbelief. He looked back to see Allen’s horrified face staring back at him.
    “Maybe we should let the professionals care for Aaron, because I don’t think we’re doing what’s best for him,” John said, and Aaron’s heart ached at the resignation in his voice. His own father had given up on him, written him off to the insanity. The throbbing in his head returned, and Aaron worked hard to keep himself from sliding down the wall.
    “I am not sending him to some kind of institution.” Michelle’s voice trembled, and Aaron couldn’t listen anymore. Part of him wanted to stay and see what their decision would be, but his tenuous hold on himself made that impossible. He refused to listen to his parents’ plan to get rid of him like he was an old pair of running shoes—battered, scuffed, and torn. Instead, he ignored his brother and walked silently back to his room. Crawling back to the bed that had cooled in his absence, he slammed his headphones onto his head and turned the music just loud enough so that he couldn’t hear the voices from the hall.
He spent the rest of the night trying to figure out how to make his parents love him again.
     
Chapter Three
     
    M
ICHELLE turned and handed Allen a plate stacked with fluffy pancakes before nudging him in the direction of the table where Anthony and Aaron sat eating. The inescapable smell of syrup surrounded Aaron as he took another buttery bite. He watched her back as she made more pancakes and an expert flip almost made him smile. She frowned as she sat down at the table with them, a much shorter stack of pancakes on her plate. A quiet sigh escaped, of sadness or exhaustion, he couldn’t tell. Then, in a desperate attempt to pull her family back together, she told them that they were going out to dinner to celebrate Aaron’s graduation. Allen made a crack about celebrating Aaron barely passing English when he himself would have been grounded for a D in English. The joke came completely out of nowhere, but Michelle shot her middle son a stern look showing that she was not amused, just as the house phone rang. She answered it as Allen lowered his gaze, chastised after the hour-long lecture he’d been given earlier that morning. Aaron had heard most of it as he sat at the top of the stairs, trying to avoid the pitiful looks and imagined judgments he got from his family when they could see him. The expression Allen wore told him that his brother was still disgusted with himself for what he’d said to Aaron, even after all had been forgiven.
    “Mom, no, we won’t be home tonight, I’m sorry. Can I stop by tomorrow evening?” Aaron heard his mother say. Anthony had already left the table, as Allen sat next to Aaron, looking deep in thought. “Yes, well, we’re going out to dinner… yes, Aaron too. We’re celebrating his graduation from high school. No, Mom, I won’t wear the red shirt.” Allen stifled a laugh as his mother rolled her eyes. “Sure, Mom, we’ll meet you at Clancy’s at seven. Okay, Mom. Love you too.” She hung up the phone and sighed. Dealing with his grandparents always stressed Aaron out,
Aaron
     
    which in turn stressed out his mother. Aaron had heard his