book he has tucked under his arm as he swings. âSo why donât you show me some of your work.â Sam stops swinging again and passes me his sketchbook. I open it slowly, afraid of what Iâm going to see. What if he sucks and I have to lie to him about it? Thankfully when I turn to the first page, I know Iâm so wrong to even think that. This is no kiddie drawing. Samâs used soft charcoal pencils to draw a meadow beneath a starry nightsky and every star, every flower, every blade of grass is so vivid it nearly jumps off the page. I do a double take when I look at my brother again. How did I not notice my brother was an artist? How many times have I passed an art project in a hallway at school and never realized Samâs signature was along the bottom? I look down at a painting of a tiger and the song Jason was blasting in his earphones sneaks into my thoughts. Capital Citiesâ âSafe and Soundâ sums up exactly what Sam is trying to do when he escapes into his artwork. I know because itâs the same thing that happens when I let the hallucinations take over, like they are right now. The tiger sprouts vines from his head in a multitude of colors. Pink palm tress and lilac mountains appear behind the swing set. Then Sam takes my hand and we jump Mary Poppins âstyle into his sketchbook. He uses an oversize crayon to draw a scene in the scene in a jungle for us to walk through. Bumblebees and insects fly by as I use binoculars to view the world he created up close. Green pops on the tree vines and flowers seemingly open as we pass them, bathing the jungle in reds, pinks, and whites. Sam points to a house atop a pyramid that heâs just drawn and the two of us begin to climb it. Atop the mountain is a city that Sam draws for us to ride through on a motorcycle. I feel myhair fly behind me as we tear through the city on the bike. Sam keeps singing about how he could keep us safe and sound as he paints object after object. The two of us are laughing and all I can think about is how this feels like weâre on a tropical island somewhere in the Caribbean. I never want to go home again if this is what life is like on an island. I grab Samâs hand again and give it a tight squeeze. As I do, I feel myself get sucked out of his painting and back onto the swings. I want to cry out for a moment to stop reality from taking over again. That world my brother createdâthat I created through my hallucinationâwas a beautiful, happy one. But the boy behind those paintings is right here on the swing next to me and I know now I should never let him go. Itâs my job to make him feel safe and sound. Not his to make me feel that way. Maybe itâs our job to help each other; weâre brother and sister after all. I hand Sam back his sketchbook, pausing to look at a multicolored dragon heâs drawn. He places the book on top of the photo box on the ground. The two of us pump our legs at the same time and begin to soar into the cool air. Our hair lifts up and starts to fly around us. I can barely see Samâs eyes anymore, but I know heâs looking at me and wondering what Iâm thinking. âSam, youâre incredible! Why didnât you ever tell us how good you were?â Samâs cheeks color as he climbs higher. âI knew youâd all figure it out on your own. Eventually.â I start to laugh and he joins in. We keep pumping our legs till our swings go so high it feels like we could touch the sky.
12// LEXI Sam may have been the first one off the field, but I struck out seconds later. I was halfway down the bike path before I realized I had no clue where I was going. What else was new? Itâs one thing for your twin to call you trashy. We shared a womb, so Jason can get away with trading barbs with me that other people canât. Besides, I dish it out pretty good myself. But when your baby brother basically calls you a clown and