"Yesterday, I felt like I was watching myself from outside of my body," Keenan yells in a hushed tone. "I don't know what's going on, but I need to go home."

I hold the phone to my ear, my eyes fixated on my seahorses swimming laps around the tank.

Mom and Dad went out Black Friday shopping. They left Trey in charge, but he left with Amir as soon as Dad's truck reached the road.

With Jodi in her room, I practically have the house to myself.

I called the other Keenan, and as soon as I got him on the phone, he started rambling about what happened yesterday.

The feeling I had while looking around, unable to reconnect with everyone and everything, he had it too.

I don't know what any of this means. If the real Keenan was here, he could probably explain it.

"The same thing happened to me. Maybe it's a sign that my Keenan is on the way back," I say. I bring my hand to my cheek, my pinky touching the edge of my eye.

I've been thinking about it since it happened. Even during the ride home, when Dad was joking around with everyone else, I sat in silence.

I've never experienced something like this. I've never suddenly felt like my soul was trapped in someone's body, that everything around me was fake, or that life was a dream.

My heart pounds at the thought of the moment in Grandma's kitchen.

"Did you at least have a good Thanksgiving," I ask to quickly change the subject. My voice cracks.

He takes a slow, shaky breath and says, "Yeah. His people made a whole bunch of food; it was good, I can't lie. What about you?"

"Yeah, same. My grandma had Thanksgiving at her house, and so many people showed up. They were even grilling and dancing in the backyard." He lets out a closed-mouth chuckle. I stare at my pajama shorts while I pick at the hems. I scratch the stitches with my thumbs. I mumble, "I wish you were there."

Butterflies spread in different directions within my chest and stomach like they've been set free.

"What?" He blows out a loud breath from his nose. "Why,"

"Because we're friends, duh," I say, a smile spreading. I can only hear him breathing. It goes on, that silence, for what feels like a minute.

Finally, he makes a sound. "Eh," he says, choking over something he wants to tell me. He just sighs afterward. "Leila, I'm not your Keenan. You and I aren't friends."

"Obviously, I know you're not him." I roll my eyes. "You don't have to be him to be friends with me."

"Leila, the only reason why you're talking to me is because I look like him. Tell me I'm wrong." I take the phone from my ear and hit the speaker button.

"You're wrong," I say, sitting the iPhone on my lap. With my back slouched against my headboard, I cross my arms on my stomach. "I'm friends with so many people. I'm in, like, multiple group chats with hundreds of kids from our school. Destiny's my best friend, and she looks nothing like anyone I knew from the '90s."

"Destiny's only talking to you because you look like my Leila." My nostrils flare, and I gnash my back teeth. "As for the group chats, I'll bet five dollars it's the same thing." I roll my eyes again. He huffs either in annoyance or exhaustion. "Look, I know you're probably struggling to figure things out—I'm sure missing out on a lot makes you feel like an outsider—but you can't pretend that everything she did is something you did. Her friends aren't your friends."

"You think you're so smart, huh? Maybe you aren't any different from the real Keenan." He doesn't respond as quickly as I do, and his silence makes my heart skip.

"Maybe not; I don't know," he says, and his low voice makes goosebumps appear along my arms and sides. "I can at least admit and accept that I don't know him."

"Whatever," I mumble. The sky is a dark shade of blue that almost looks black. I stare at the few stars scattered behind transparent clouds. Slowly, I look at the fish tank, and my eyes widen. "Oh, my God!"

One of the fry is off-centered, its body stretched out and face buried in the sand.

The other creatures have scattered and left it there alone.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Keenan's voice is loud and filled with panic, but I can't answer him.

I jolt off the bed and onto my feet, the phone clattering off my lap. It hits the floor beside me, and I rush to the tank.

My torso lifts and drops as each heavy breath enters my mouth. It whistles and sometimes sounds like wheezing.

I open my mouth wider to yell for help, but my stomach turns. I wanna scream, but it feels like something is trapped in my throat.

Instead, I run out of the room to find my sister. Whenever my pets died or looked sick, I'd find Mom or Dad and they'd help me.

They'd take me to the vet if they felt it would help and hug me if they had to break the news that one of my fish died. One time, Dad went to flush my fish, and Mom made him bury it instead. We buried it in a bag of water in our backyard.

Jodi's voice is soft and faint behind her cracked-open bedroom door. She giggles at whoever she's talking to.

"I know," she says through bouts of laughter. I push the door open further with enough force to not only make her flinch, but send it swinging back. It slams into her wall. Jodi sits there against her headboard, her big eyes locked on the wall behind the door handle.

"I need help." I stutter and stammer, my eyes no wider than hers.

"Leila, my wall," she says. Her voice starts out calm when she calls my name, then it erupts like a volcano as she finishes speaking. I'm sure I dented it, but that's at the back of my mind.

"My seahorse," I say, raising my voice to overpower hers. She places her iPhone to her ear while stepping off her bed.

Jodi politely ends the call with them, walking toward me with narrowed eyes. When they hang up, she sits it on the dresser near me and scrunches her face.

"Do you really think I care about your fish?" My brows dip inward. I open my mouth to respond, but she lifts her index to stop me. "I don't care, Leila. You put a hole in my wall to tell me about some fish that I never cared about?"

She waits for me to speak, but my stomach grumbles instead. I saw a glimpse of the side of its face, and its eyes were shut. It laid there like a toy with the face of a real horse—alone.

Tears well and weigh down my lashes. My throat tightens like an allergic reaction, and my nostrils flare as I inhale.

I wish Mom and Dad never left.

Seeing that I'm not responding, Jodi purses her lips and nods. She places her hands on my shoulders to push me into the hall. My back is to her but I can feel her standing under her door frame.

She says, "Leave me alone until Mom and Dad gets back. I'm definitely telling him what you did; most definitely."

Her door slams and my body shrinks. I shudder like I'm cold and wrap my arms around myself for comfort.

I sway at the hips in circular motions with my fingers wrapped around my short sleeves. My heart thumps against my wrist and when I shut my eyes, tears run down my cheeks.

I've never disposed of dead things.

Mom captured mice that would sneak in during the winter and die, Dad buried my fish, Keenan put the cow out of its misery. In all of this, I closed my eyes or shut my ears.

I can't do any of that now.

I trudge to my room, sniveling and squeezing my arms. I tighten my grip more and more the closer I get to the tank.

The other fish and seahorses are still on opposite ends. I squat down until I'm eye-level with the fry. It's as small as one of my nails.

Someone speaks, but I can't understand them. They're faint and muffled.

I turn to the sound, my eyes finding my phone face down near my bed.

He's still there?

A light bulb flicks on in my head.

I scramble toward the iPhone and place it to my ear.

He calls for me, and I say, "Keenan, I need your help."

"With what? Are you alright?" I sit on the floor with my back to the tank. "I heard you yelling."

"One of my seahorses had babies and one of the babies died," I say, rushing the words out. "Can you come over to help me bury it?"

"What? No." My heart and jaw drop. "I'm sorry, but I got the house to myself and, if I leave, I could get in trouble."

"Are you serious? Since when do you care," I ask, my voice shrill. He doesn't respond and his silence reminds me that he's not my Keenan. I lift my knees to my chest and lay an arm across them. I plant my forehead into the bend of my arm and submit to my emotions. "Keenan, please, I need help."

I wail into the phone, but he raises his voice to ask, "Where are your parents?"

"They're at the store," I say and mine cracks. I whine on the last word and my lip trembles.

"Yeah, I definitely can't go." My hand squeezes the phone like a stress ball. My forehead and temples throb. "Don't you have brothers?"

"They snuck out and left me with a sister who doesn't care anymore than they do!" I doubt he understands me, blubbering like a baby. Tears drip off my chin and onto my mix-matched socks. "This has to be the worst day of my life."

Another silence.

"I miss Keenan," I say. I'm left with a bout of hiccups between weak, tired sobs. I'm not trying to manipulate him. If he chooses not to help me, I understand; he doesn't know me and owes me nothing.

I just feel alone and the one person who knew me and cared for me is gone. I don't know when he'll be back and it's killing me.

He groans, then lets out a deep sigh. He says, "Leila, you'll be the death of me," and I don't respond. I stare at my hanging chair, my shoulders jerking with each sniffle and hiccup. "Text me your address."

I gasp and yank the phone from my ear to open the messages app. My heart hammers against my chest with anxiety.

***

There's knocking on my window that lifts my head off my arm. I check my phone and notice that I haven't moved in fifteen minutes.

I look straight ahead at my window, my back to the tank where my seahorse lay dead.

Keenan's standing on something so he's tall enough to see through my window. I jump to my feet and climb onto the bed. Standing between my pillows, I twist the lock above and lift the handle below.

He's wearing a thin jacket over a flannel button-up, the jacket's hood over his head.

"Move out the way," he says, low and snappy. I step off the bed and stand at the side, my fingers twitching.

Keenan presses and lifts himself through the window, grunting as he uses all his weight. A vein appears along his temple, only to fade when he jerks his body forward.

He reaches his hands out to break his fall, crashing face down on my bed. The blankets are jumbled up and hanging off the edge.

Keenan stands beside me, and I scan his outfit from his jacket to his dark jeans and sneakers.

"So, where's it at?" I gesture behind him with my head and when he looks at the tank, I raise my shaking fingers to my lips.

He walks closer I stay next to my bed. He leans forward with his eyes close to the glass, staring at the seahorse laying motionless and stiff.

"You got one of them net things to scoop it out," he asks, looking at me over his shoulder. I shake my head, and he scrunches his face. "Then how am I supposed to pick it up, Leila?"

"My dad broke it by accident, okay?" My tone is quick and biting. He narrows his eyes at me. "Just — reach in and grab it."

His eyes widen before flicking between me and the tank that stands as tall as him. He lets out an exaggerated grunt and sigh like he's wondering if I'm noticing the height.

Keenan runs a hand down his face and says, "Just get the toilet ready."

"No." Slowly, he turns his glare toward me. The darkness in his gaze sends a shiver down my back, and I stutter, "I said I wanted to bury it."

"Leila, it's just a fish," he says, suppressing his anger through whisper-yelling.

"No, it's not," I say, doing the same. "I'll get a bag, but I'm not letting you flush it."

His nostrils flare as he turns away from me.