Free The Storyteller by Aaron Starmer

probably be back after Christmas break. Which is pretty soon.”
    Glen finally sat back down, though his glare was still fixed on Trevor. “Bye-bye now,” Glen said.
    After another bite of apple, Trevor stood and said, “Later taters.” Before leaving, though, he paused, squinted at Glen, and asked, “Wait, are you two, like, boyfriend and girlfriend?”
    Glen is rarely stunned into silence, but his response was to scrunch up his face in anger and not say a thing, so I put my arm around him and pulled him close and said, “We sure are.”
    Trevor nodded. “Cool.”
    Cool. It’s basically what Mandy has been saying too. And basically what my parents are like.
    You’ve got a boyfriend? Cool.
    It’s Glen Maple? Double cool.
    I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. Not anger, really. Maybe … something more. Talk. Debate. Something other than a nod and a “cool.”
    Forget it. Cool is good. Cool is cool.
    Alistair hasn’t said anything about it yet. Ever since Kyle woke up, my brother has kept to himself, at least when I’m around. Not mute like in those first few days. But lost in thought, like he’s considering all the angles. Even more than everyone else, he seems to be trying to figure things out.

 
    S ATURDAY , 12/9/1989
    MORNING
    Sometimes a knock changes everything. Earlier this morning, I knocked on Alistair’s door, he invited me in, and I found him lying on his back in bed.
    â€œTrevor Weeks says hey ,” I said. “He’s looking forward to seeing you again.”
    â€œThat’s nice,” Alistair said, but he didn’t look at me. There was a fishbowl resting on his chest, and even though it was empty, he was staring at it like there was something living inside it. He hasn’t had a fish since he was probably five or six, so I don’t know why he has a fishbowl, but people keep things for sentimental reasons, I suppose.
    â€œI think a lot of kids are excited that you’ll be back,” I said.
    â€œIt’ll definitely be different,” he said.
    â€œNo kidding.”
    This is pretty much how our conversations have been going. Small talk, nothing more. I get most of my information about how he’s doing from Mom and Dad, and half the time that’s from overhearing them chatting in the kitchen while Mom is cooking dinner and Dad is making the salad. So when Alistair moved from the small talk to the big talk, I was more than a bit surprised.
    â€œNo word yet from Jenny Colvin,” he told me.
    The mention of that name drenched me with guilt. Why had I betrayed my brother’s trust? “Oh,” I replied. “I forgot about … her.”
    â€œReally?” Alistair asked. “You listened to the tape, though, didn’t you?”
    â€œWhat? I … No, I’d never … No.”
    Alistair placed the fishbowl on his nightstand, rolled over onto his side, and smiled at me. “It’s okay,” he said. “I wanted you to listen. It was weird, wasn’t it?”
    My heart was buzzing, definitely not up for deceit. He was giving me a pass, so I took it. “It was beyond weird, Alistair,” I said. “It was certifiably insane.”
    This made him chuckle. Then he sat up and ran his hands across his comforter, sending little waves to the edges. “Do you believe in other worlds?” he asked me.
    â€œLike other planets?” I asked.
    â€œLike other dimensions,” he said.
    â€œI don’t know,” I replied. “I like the idea of other dimensions.”
    Liking ideas is a good way to be noncommittal about things. For instance, if you ask a girl out and she says she likes the idea of going out with you, then it means that she’s not going out with you.
    Alistair nodded and said, “How about this idea, then? If there were another dimension, would you like it to be very different from this one, or very