He looks at me, confused.

“So you are one of six?”

“Yes. Three boys, three girls.”

His tone is completely interested and curious.

“Who was your favorite sibling growing up?”

“My older sister Alysha. We’re less than a year apart and grew up very close.”

“Are you two the closest in age?”

“Yeah. Andrew and Alexander are the farthest apart by six years.”

He does some thinking for a moment before firing back another question.

“So are they the oldest and youngest?”

“Yes and no. Addison is the oldest and Alexander is the youngest. He was a surprise baby after my mom thought she was done.”

He chuckles, shifting slightly to get more comfortable.

“Your parents really like ‘A’ names.”

He’s right. I don’t even want to tell him what they have for our middle names. All ‘A’ names again.

“Yeah. They loved the alliteration in when they were introducing the first two babies, so they continued it. Addison and Asher started this whole mess when they were born.”

He’s in awe for a few moments so I take the opportunity to ask him questions.

“Do you have any siblings?”

My question catches him off-guard but he answers.

“One brother.”

“What’s his name?”

“His names was Lance.”

He sounds distant. He’s staring off at the wall with watery eyes.

“Was?”

“He died when I was seven.”

Oh crap. I didn’t want to pry this much.

Oh well. Let’s pry some more!

“How old was he?”

“Three.”

I can tell he is struggling to hold his emotions in check. But it’s not the sadness he’s controlling, it’s something else.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did he die?”

“My mom was coming home from work more intoxicated than half of the broken-hearted bar patrons who drown their sorrows in top shelf whiskey. She picked Lance up from the babysitter’s house. On the way home, she swerved to avoid a deer and slammed into a tree. She didn’t strap Lance into his booster seat.”

He chokes up a little, clearly emotional in several different ways. Including the anger I saw earlier.

“When they collided, she was knocked unconscious while he was thrown from the car. He was taken to the hospital with a collapsed lung, a skull fracture, multiple lacerations and broken bones. He died soon after from his injuries.”

When I’m sure he is done talking, I speak in a whisper.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

He uses one hand to wipe the nonexistent tears from his eyes.

“Mom went to prison and Dad raised me. No big deal.”

“But-”

“Let’s talk about something positive. How are your grades?”

With those words, Chase brushes away all of the things that he just told me, locking them in a box in the back of my mind.