I break free of my mother and shove my brother in the chest. He stumbles backwards, mouth falling open as he collides with the door.
“Mara!” Dad calls and Mom cries out, but I don’t really hear them. I keep shoving, my fingers ricocheting off Owen’s shoulders only to return again, pushing and pushing even though he’s already against the door.
I scream at him. All the words I could never seem to say to anyone.
Believe. Valid. Scared. Hurt. Space. Body. Mine.
No.
No.
No.
The words flow out as I hit him in the chest, as I cry and shake off my parents when they try to pull me back. I unleash the energy behind every star in the sky onto my other half.
And Owen lets me.
He just stands there, absorbing my fury, until all the light and fire blink out.
When I finally back off, he breaks. A strangled sound rolls out of his throat and his face crumples, eyes bleeding tears. He slumps against the wall, sliding down until he’s sitting. My mother covers her mouth with her hands, but she doesn’t go to him. She doesn’t wrap her arms around him and rock him while he cries. Dad just stares at his son, shock stealing all the color from my father’s face.
I watch Owen break apart, everything he’ll probably never say so clear in every body-wracking sob. I wait for something to break in me, too, but there’s nothing left. My fracture already happened. Exactly when, I’m not sure, but I know it’s done. I feel loose and unmoored.
Half of a constellation.
Because this boy crying on the floor, burying his face in his hands, shamed and silent and guilty, is not only Owen McHale.
He is my twin brother.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“ONCE UPON A TIME . . .”
Instinctively, my mouth bends into a smile as Owen settles next to me on the roof. He’s been on my heels constantly lately, asking me about summer school and how I feel about starting Pebblebrook in the fall and trying to get me to laugh. Last night at dinner, he risked our parents’ wrath and spelled out swear words with his rigatoni. I actually did laugh when he substituted the u in the f-word with a chunk of tomato.
“A brother and a sister lived with the stars,” Owen goes on. “They were happy and had wild adventures exploring the sky. But lately, Sister Twin was super sad and she felt lonely, like she was in the sky all by herself, but luckily for her—”
“Oh, here we go.”
“Shut up. Luckily for her, she had a charming, handsome, debonair—”
“Debonair—?oh my god.”
“Hey, my story here.”
“I’m just saying, accuracy matters.”
He nudges my elbow and I can feel his grin trying to mirror itself on my face.
“Anyway,” he says, “she had a charming, handsome, debonair twin brother who only wanted to make his sister happy.”
“So, yesterday, when you ate the last piece of our birthday cake, that was for the sole purpose of making me happy?”
“Yes. I saved you a filling at the dentist’s office.”
“Ah. Thank you so much.”
“Anytime. So one day, Brother Twin decided to collect a bunch of stars and make his sister a crown, to remind her how pretty and nice and amazing she was.”
