Of course, Kevin can’t just let me go. “Where’s the kid who got up with me at five a.m. every morning to go running? Where’s the guy who stayed at the rink until the Zamboni driver kicked us out? Where’s the boy who did laps around the track wearing weights just to build muscle? Where’s my little brother?” I don’t even look at Kevin. I get out and slam the door. “Well, maybe he died, too.”
