Tweaked by Katherine Holubitsky

final is scheduled for the morning of June 12. After walking into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat before school, I come across Mom sittingblurry-eyed and sobbing at the table. I’ve reached the point where I don’t say anything—there is no point asking why today is any worse than yesterday. I pour myself a glass of juice.
    â€œDo you know what today is?” she asks.
    I shrug. “It’s the twelfth.”
    She is holding something, a folded piece of paper. I glance at the envelope on the table in front of her. It’s an old letter from Chase. The postmark tells me it was written when he was at boy scout camp.
    â€œIt’s Chase’s eighteenth birthday.”
    â€œOh, right,” I say. I had forgotten.
    â€œI always thought he’d be in university by now, or at least heading off. He’d have his whole life ahead of him, a career—your dad and I always thought he’d be good at business. He was so bright and personable even as a little boy. Maybe he’d get married.” She starts to cry.
    â€œMom,” I say, but I stop at that. There really is nothing more to be said.
    She wipes her cheek with the palm of her hand. “The prosecuting lawyer and the family are applying to have Chase’s case moved to adult court.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œIt means that if they’re successful, he’ll be tried as if he were an adult, even though the incident happened when he was technically still a youth.”
    She still refers to Chase cracking Richard Cross over the head with a bottle as “the incident.” Even now that the man has died.
    â€œIf he’s convicted,” she continues, “he’ll go to prison with men who have committed the most horrible crimes.”
    She is obviously waiting for some reassurance, or at least a reaction. But what can I say? Chase too has committed the most horrible of crimes. “That would suck,” is all I can think of to say.
    She looks over at me. “It would suck? That’s all you can say, Gordie? Your brother is likely to go to prison where he could be beaten and abused, and that’s all you have to say?”
    â€œWhat do you want me to say? I can’t change the law. If that’s the way it works, how can I change anything?”
    â€œYou could care!”
    â€œI do care.”
    â€œWell, you sure don’t show it. You don’t talk about it. You don’t discuss how we’re going to find him or how we’re going to get him home. In fact, if it wasn’t for you—if you hadn’t taken Chase out that night, he’d still be here.”
    â€œYeah,” I said, “and Richard Cross would still be dead!”
    Mom glares at me before she starts to cry again. I hadn’t meant to hurt her, but how can she possibly blame me? And why is it that Chase is the good guyand I’m the rotten one? I heft my backpack over my shoulder and leave.
    I totally screw up my exam. I can’t concentrate; dates and battles all run together, and I can’t write a sentence that makes any sense. For the first time in my life I worry about whether or not I’m going to pass a course rather than just how well I’ve done.
    Two days later we get the news that the prosecutor has been successful. If Chase hadn’t taken off he might have had a chance, but the judge rules he will be tried in adult court. Mom and Dad are devastated; not only will his sentence likely be much stiffer and he’ll have to serve it in prison, but he can now be named in news reports.
    Dad sits with his head in his hands after reading the story the following morning. It is the first time Chase’s name has appeared in print. It’s a Saturday. Within an hour the phone rings several times: Grandma, Aunt Gail, friends and neighbors, people Dad works with; a few even come by the house. They are all so solemn, like we’ve lost a member of the family, which I