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screen again, and “sorry” comes out in the little boy’s voice.
    The tension gets to me and I laugh. “What is that?” My voice sounds too loud in the quiet room.
    He pushes the board toward me. It says DynaVox, the company that makes the augmented communications device Andrew has been wanting.
    “A communicator? You got it?” I slide my finger down the smooth side. The communicator has a touch screen with a bunch of pictures and a menu of voices.
    His whole face lights up with excitement. He reaches for the device and I push it back to him. “This … one?” He moves his finger down the screen and then touches it with his finger. “Allie,” it says in the voice so close to Trip’s.
    Icy fingers slide down my spine. I shake my head.
    His smile fades. His hand shakes as he moves his finger down the menu. The screen changes to letters. He touches T … R … I reach over and cover his hand with mine to stop him. I can’t stand to hear the voice say Trip’s name. Andrew sighs and bobs his head. He changes the menu so I can see a list of different voices. I touch “young woman.” Andrew presses another part of the screen. “Sorry” comes out in a high-pitched woman’s voice.
    Andrew rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He slides his finger down the menu and chooses “elderly woman,” then pushes a box that says “Allie,” in a voice that reminds me of Grandma.
    “Definitely you.”
    Andrew grins. He shakes his head and starts to giggle like a little kid. I reach for the board. He tries to keep it away from me, but he’s laughing so much that he loses his balance. The screen falls onto his lap and slides down his legs and onto the floor. He reaches for it and starts slipping out of his chair. I grab his shoulder to keep him from falling out but he’s too big for me. We both end up in a heap on the floor.
    Andrew’s laugh consumes his whole body. I laugh, too, but the sound is hollow, like an electronic laugh from the communicator. I lean my head against his chest. We used to lie on the floor all the time when we were kids. I would tickle him, and he would giggle until his whole body shook.
    He reaches up and touches my hair. “Okay … now … Al?”
    “Trying.” I close my eyes.
    “Sorry,” he says in his own halting voice. His fingers brush the scar on the back of my head. His leg twitches. He pulls his hand away with a jerk, and he catches my hair between his fingers.
    “Ouch,” I say, but I don’t move. I can feel his breath and the quick thump of his heart under my cheek. It feels so nice that even when my legs go numb, I don’t want to move. Instead of going back to my room I pull a couple of blankets off Andrew’s bed. I cover him with one and then curl up next to him.
    “Missed ya, sis,” he says softly. We’ve never been apart our whole lives, but I understand. With Trip around, I spent less and less time with Andrew.
    “Missed ya, too,” I whisper back. With his heart thumping under my ear, I fall asleep.

Chapter
6
    I sit with Hannah and her crowd every day at lunch. Not really by choice. Hannah walks me from class to the lunchroom so I’m stuck. From the outside it might look like I’m part of their group now, but they don’t voluntarily include me in their conversation and I don’t speak up. I’m more of an extra chair at the table.
    I pretty much tune out what they’re saying anyway—gossip about the school and sometimes the town. The people they talk about are familiar, but they might as well be talking about aliens. I’m so disconnected, have always been so disconnected, from the normal part of the Pacific Cliffs combined school, that none of it matters to me.
    I thought it would be different. I was a stranger during my summer visits, but I had hoped that once we really lived here, I would be accepted. I dreamed about being part of a crowd—any crowd. Trying out for cheerleader, or sports, or the school play. Maybe even doing the Beachcomber’s Queen contest. Mom