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eye on them?
    “Fine,” I say. “Just stay in your room.”
    “Yoink!” Mattie grabs the bottle of rum.
    Amber paws through the refrigerator until she finds a two-liter of Coke. “Don’t you have any Diet?” she whines, and I shoot her death rays until she looks away.
    Armed with booze, Coke, glasses, ice, and a butter knife to mix their drinks, the girls bounce out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Just in time, too. At that moment, Rollins pulls up in his old Nissan Stanza.
    I watch him climb out of the car and amble up the front walk, carrying something under his arm. He runs his fingers through his hair before ringing the doorbell. When I open the door, he holds his hands behind his back.
    “Choose,” he says.
    “Choose what?”
    “Choose a hand. Right or left.”
    I point at his right hand, and he brings it forward. I’ve chosen The Exorcist .
    “Wise choice.” He nods.
    “Mos def,” I say. “What’s in the other hand?”
    He slowly reveals his other hand. He’s clutching a bundle of blue cloth. He shakes it out, and I see that it’s a T-shirt. I suck in my breath. The cover of The Smashing Pumpkins’ album Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness , with an angel bursting out of a star, is on the front. Mellon Collie is one of my favorite albums. I’ve been trolling eBay for this shirt for ages.
    “It came in with a shipment of vintage T-shirts,” Rollins says. “Is it the right one?”
    “Ohmygod!” I cry, jumping up and down. “I’ve been looking for this forever .”
    Rollins laughs at my excitement. “Are you sure? I can take it back if you don’t like it. . .” He playfully tugs it away from me, and I slap his hand.
    Rollins follows me into the living room and flops onto our plaid couch, in his regular spot. I lay the T-shirt carefully over the top of the couch, a cheesy smile plastered on my face, and pop the DVD into the player before throwing myself into the recliner.
    “So who’s your dad operating on today?”
    “Ah, I forgot to tell you. Conjoined twins.”
    Rollins’s eyebrows jump with interest. “Really? Conjoined twins? Awesome.”
    I knew he’d be excited at the prospect of real, live conjoined twins. There was one time last year when we were so bored that we went to Goodwill and bought a size XXXL shirt we could both fit into. We went to the mall, and everyone stared at us while we fed each other sticky buns and went up and down the escalator. Rollins even accompanied me into the girls’ bathroom and looked away while I went pee. I know it wouldn’t be fun to really be a conjoined twin, but we love the concept of it.
    I fill him in on the details of the operation. In a weird way, I envy the soon-to-be-separated twins—assuming everything goes well. Soon they will be nestled in their cots, able to lead normal, uncomplicated lives. I wish there was an operation my dad could do to fix whatever is wrong with me.
    “That’s intense. It’s so cool that your dad is able to have that kind of impact,” Rollins says, pulling a loose string off his T-shirt.
    “Jared Bell saves the day again,” I say.
    I’m unable to stop the dark feeling that passes through me. Yeah, my dad has a positive effect on so many lives— just not mine. Maybe if I saw him more than a few minutes a day, if that . I immediately feel terrible for the thought. Selfish. Sick babies are way more important than me getting to hang out with my dad. He’s a hero for being able to put right what nature made wrong.
    I aim the remote control toward the DVD player to start the movie. The sky outside is just darkening in preparation for night. Rollins interrupts the movie every few minutes with a snarky comment. I pull a quilt tight around me, wrapping myself in the moment, the familiarity. This is the way our friendship used to be, before we started drifting apart. I miss it.
    Linda Blair’s head is just about to start spinning like a top full of vomit when Mattie bursts into the living room, followed