I didn’t have the heart to tell him he was right. “I’m here,” I said. “Although apparently I’m going to Dublin tomorrow to record a song for the soundtrack. I’m supposed to use one of Grandma Mae’s poems for the lyrics.”
Ryder shot up and fastened his arms around my neck. “That’s amazing!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m glad you think so. I feel super weird about it.”
He grabbed his worn copy of the Elementia trilogy and rifled through the pages. “Is it for Queen Seeria’s Prophecy? I bet it is. That’s Sevyn and Evyn’s grandmother. She can control water, sort of. She sees the future through it.”
“Ah, yeah, that’s the poem. The song is for the scene where Nolan and Sevyn meet.”
My brother dog-eared a page and handed it to me. “Take this. It’s the best scene.”
I took the book and watched him crawl under the covers. He still felt like my puppy, but he was getting bigger, and I was getting older. And he’d been wrong in the van today. I wasn’t afraid of Dad making me stay home for college. I was scared I would make that choice. That I would stay because of Ryder and then resent him for it.
“Ry, do you…” I paused; it was hard to go back to last night, to the harsh truths we’d exchanged. “Do you honestly feel like Dad and I have a club you’re not part of?”
Ryder was quiet for a few breaths. “You guys never invite me to those concerts or the theater. You leave me with Mom, and she says we’re going to hang out, but as soon as you guys leave, she goes to her room.”
“Dad and I see historical war dramas together, Ryder. It’s not fun. I would skip, but it makes him happy to lecture me on the inaccuracies afterward.” My brother stared like an owl; I’d never considered he might be jealous of an activity I loathed. “It’s not fun or easy to be in Dad’s good graces. At least he doesn’t call you Jaded Ryder.”
“At least he doesn’t call you stupid for liking Elementia.”
“Ryder! He’s never called you stupid.”
My brother gave me a look that said, He doesn’t have to say it.
“Dad is…” I’d never tried to talk to Ryder about this before. Would it help? Was he old enough? “You know how Mom is different from other moms?” He nodded. “Well, Dad is just as different, although he’s better at hiding it. There’s something big in him. Something—”
“Sad?”
So Ryder was old enough to get it.
“Yeah.” I brushed his hair out of his eyes. “You know those lessons he’s been asking you to think about?” He nodded. “He wants you to have interests outside of fantasy. Something he can buy lessons for you to pursue, so he can feel like a good dad. It can be anything. Martial arts, Mandarin, or how about engineering? You like building things.”
“What if I got cooking lessons and become a chef like Mr. Donato?”
I laughed too hard, too fast. “He won’t go for that. He wants you to do something special with your life. Nothing blue collar or, heaven forbid, fine arts.”
Ryder rolled to face the wall. “Everything I do is wrong.”
I touched his back. “Ryder, look at me please.” He didn’t. “Okay, well, when I was your age, Dad wanted to get me lessons too. I picked literature because it made him happy. Every week I read a new book with this tutor named Mr. Sams. We read Charles Dickens, Mary Shelley, Moby Dick. I mean, in hindsight, it was way beyond my comprehension level, but it was fun, and Mr. Sams acted out roles and we had the best talks.”
Ryder rolled back over. “Was he like Mr. Donato?”
“Yeah, a bit.” I chewed my bottom lip, wondering how much I could tell him. I decided on an abridged version. “One day he gave me a new book, a fantasy trilogy like Elementia.”
“What was it?” my brother whispered.
“His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman. It changed my whole life. It was amazing. I can’t even—” I cut myself off. This was where the memory turned sour, and I had to have enough courage to tell Ryder the truth. “Dad got upset when he saw how much I liked those books. He accused Mr. Sams of turning me into a little Thornian, and he fired him. Dad took over, giving me books to read, but we never talked about them together. And it wasn’t fun anymore.”
My brother was stunned, his eyes bright.
I was stunned I’d told him, but I pushed on. “Ryder, if you choose lessons that make Dad happy, well, it might make you unhappy. And vice versa. We’ll try to find something that makes you both happy. How about that?”
He smiled wearily, and that’s what I hated most. All this stuff with Dad made both of us so old.
“Okay, now I’ve got to go practice.” I stood and grabbed my guitar.
Before I could slip outside, Ryder called out. “Eyeball?”
It had been years since he’d used his little-kid name for me. “Yeah, Cowboy?”
“You think you could get me those Dark Materials books?”
“Definitely.”
• • •
Slipping outside into a chilly, late-spring Irish evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about how Ryder and I had the same parents but such different experiences. Sure, I’d had my hands full raising him over the last eight years, but I had also been my parent’s precocious sweetheart, an only child for nine years. Ryder had been treated like a wild animal since birth, and what was worse, looking back, I’m not sure my parents even tried.
I turned the corner and ran into Eamon, but the pillow he carried cushioned the crash.
“Hiya!” he said way too enthusiastically, like he’d forgotten I was on this set. He clutched the pillow to his chest. Then he looked at my guitar. “Did Cate talk to you about the song?”
I nodded. “I guess I should say thanks?”
He blew out a sigh of relief. “Taping you was the scariest thing
