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Wagner’s
Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg
on the Pegasus to drown him out.
    Punishment in our house was called the “Big Chop,” and it was always fitted to the crime and doled out immediately.
    “You must name every landmark in Bhutan in Dzongkha, the national language.” My father furrowed his brow. “I don’t care if it takes you the rest of the night. If you make a mistake, you’ll have to start again, Tandy.”
    I said, “I want sixty seconds with the computer. That’s only fair.”
    “Sixty seconds with the computer comes with a penalty.”
    “I’ll take it,” I said.
    I hadn’t read any Dzongkha since my freshman year, so I needed a refresher, and I wanted to see a map of Bhutan’s cities, too. I flipped on the computer and scanned theGoogle Earth view of Bhutan and the nearby countries of India and Nepal.
    Then the computer was switched off.
    Malcolm said, “You turned our dinner party upside down, Tandy. This chop is appropriate, fair, and equitable, and furthermore, for your penalty, you must execute this task while standing on your head.”
    If you’re from a normal family, you probably think that part was a joke. But it wasn’t a joke, and I knew it.
    I had never won an argument with my father, and I never would. I put a cushion under my head and walked my feet up the bookcase. I began my recitation with the high spots—Thimphu, the capital; Mongar, a town in the east—and finished the cities before naming the monasteries.
    My mother was online, tracking trades in Asia, and I whispered to her, “Mother, please. I’ve done enough.”
    “Buck up, Tandy,” she said, “or we’ll double the chop.”
    I was released after an hour.
    I told my father that the meal had been delicious, and that I had enjoyed it when it came back up almost as much as I had enjoyed it going down.
    He chuckled and kissed me good night.
    Maud patted my cheek and told me I had to work on my pronunciation a little, but all in all, I’d done a good job.
    I went to bed and thought about what I’d done, not because I was sorry for offending the ambassador, but because I’d let myself get out of control. I didn’t like that. The few times I’d been out of control in my life things had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
    I don’t usually let myself think about those times.
    If you stick with me long enough, though, maybe I’ll remember enough about it—and about
him
—to share.

14
    After our little family meeting,
we decided it was best to try to get some sleep and keep talking in the morning. But it felt like only seconds after I drifted off that I was awakened by the sounds of loud pounding and crashing somewhere in the apartment.
    I didn’t have a shotgun, so I grabbed a lacrosse stick that was leaning against the wall and ran from my room toward the noise.
    Was someone else being murdered?
    I found ten-year-old Hugo in his room. He was still wearing his Giants sweatshirt, and he was using a baseball bat to break up his four-poster bed.
    As I entered the room, he swung the bat for the lasttime, splintering the headboard, then began working on the bed frame with karate kicks.
    “
Hey.
Hey,
Hugo
,” I said. “Enough. Stop. Please.”
    I dropped my lacrosse stick and wrapped my arms around my little brother. I dragged him away from the bed and more or less hurled him toward the cushy, life-size toy pony that Uncle Peter had given Hugo when he was born.
    We collapsed together onto the pony, my arms wrapped tightly around him. He could easily pick me up and toss me into the closet, but I knew he actually wanted me to keep him still and safe.
    “What is it, Hugo? Tell me what exactly has made you go bug-nuts.”
    Hugo heaved a long sigh that could have stirred the posters of Matty up on the wall. Then he put his head on my lap and started to talk.
    “I didn’t hear anything, Tandy. I
should
have. Something horrible happened in there, and I totally failed them! If I’ve ever done anything to deserve the Big Chop,