Amir sat up and rubbed his hand over his chest, watching Bear’s back. In his place, I would have been sobbing. I wondered if, like Bear, Amir didn’t cry, but then I remembered the tears I’d seen brim in his eyes on the night he’d arrived at Horseshoe Cliff.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He nodded, rising to his feet. He took my hand and helped me up. “Are you? You bit him!”
I shrugged. “Don’t listen to him, Amir. Thisisyour home now.”
“I know it is. He knows it, too. That’s why he hates me so much.” Amir stroked Pal’s head. “What did he taste like?”
I thought for a moment. “Like a piece of raw pumpkin covered in horseshit.”
Our laughter rose up from us in such a rush that the leaves of the whole grove quivered.
“Did you mean what you said?” I asked. “Did you change your mind about telling my father how awful Bear is?”
Amir shook his head. “I was just trying to scare him.”
I smiled. I liked the idea of one of us scaring Bear for a change.
“Let’s get our eggs,” he said. “I’m starving.”
A look of hatred passed over his face when he glanced after my brother, who was still making his way toward the house and kicking at every stone in his path. I wasn’t surprised by Amir’s hatred, or frightened of it. Instead I felt drawn to it, envying the clarity of his emotion, its pureness. His hatred was as bright as a guiding star on a cloudless night. My own feelings for my brother were a murky sky that only left me moving in circles. I hated him. I felt sorry for him. I hated him. I loved him.
There was a frayed rope between us that would not break.
