More Than We Can Tell (Letters to the Lost #2)

by Brigid Kemmerer

He catches me. He holds on. Because he’s not my father. He’s my dad.

We all push sometimes, just to make sure someone is on the other side, pushing back.

Our actions have an impact on everyone around us. Sometimes without us even realizing it.

“A test implies that you alone are being challenged,” Dad says. “But that’s impossible when you’re surrounded by others whose actions affect your decisions. And do you really believe that there’s a God who specifically chooses people and assigns them with challenges? Based on what?”

He says the Internet makes too many people loud, and too many people silent, but the loud people are all we hear. We have to ask questions to hear the silent people.

“The point is to stay close.” He pauses. “Distance gives someone room to hurt you.”

A shadow of her usual attitude has slipped into her voice, and I have to force myself not to react to it. For the first time, I wonder if her agitation is a reaction to mine.

You spend so much time worrying about what you’re supposed to do. This is about what you want to do.

You’re allowed to play a game without having to go through this. You’re allowed to design a computer game without being harassed. You’re allowed to go through life without having to put up with this, regardless of what kind of field it is.

‘The revolution is not an apple that falls when it is ripe. You have to make it fall.’