The Pretend Darkness

My younger brother must have been plotting his little act for a while because he barely touched his bread at dinner, claiming he was not hungry. Mom was so freaked out she did not even finish her food before dragging him off to the clinic.

If he had not kept eyeing the meatloaf like it was the last one on earth, maybe I would have bought his act.

Just as I figured, the doctor at the clinic handed him a quiz to check how he was feeling. Of course, my brother started checking off all the worst answers.

[Lost my appetite lately.]

[Don't care about anything anymore.]

If it had not been for my soul having been able to see in my previous life—seeing him munching on chips and gaming under his blanket at night until his phone practically caught fire—I might have fallen for it.

"This looks bad," said the doctor, scribbling out a prescription. "Take these meds daily and come back in a month for a check-up."

Brother left the clinic grinning like he had won the lottery, while Mom looked like she was about to cry, clutching a diagnosis for major depression and a bunch of mystery meds.

"Zane, go chill in your room. I'll grab your favorite chicken wings later. Try to eat a bit, okay?" Mom told him.

His room soon echoed with snores that could wake the dead.

"Brianna, your brother is sick, so you're on dinner duty from now on. I'm getting him a school break tomorrow. You'll take care of him when you're not in class, got it?" declared Mom.

I kept my face blank, but inside, I was completely detached.