The key turns in the latch and I open our apartment door. To let as little light in from outside as possible, I shinny myself in, almost dropping what I’m carrying. It’s impossible to see in the pitch black of our living room, but the glow-in-the-dark clock I bought to hang right next to the door tells me it’s one in the morning, which means it’s really three o’clock; I always set this clock two hours behind before I leave at night, so if my mother ever catches me coming home this late she’ll see the clock next to the door and think I’m two hours earlier than I actually am. I take my shoes off at the door, careful not to wake her up. She gets so worried when I come home this late.

I stop off at the TV and do what I need to do before I make my way to the room that Bobby and I share. I creak our door open as silently as I could, and I see his covers rising up and down with his breath. Creeping, I go to him and nudge him awake.