“He’s not going to take off the mask,” I said, trying to curl my hair one-handed. It wasn’t a task I was fluent in two-handed, so it was going badly.

“He might. Maybe he’ll do it just to make us mad when he sees we aren’t there.”

“I don’t think he’ll notice we’re not there. I don’t think he cares that much about us,” I said, admitting out loud the thing I’d been feeling all week.

“Ugh. I don’t feel good.”

“You don’t?” Maybe Amelia was feeling the same disappointment I was.

“Was that convincing? Would that convince Coach if I called him?”

“Do you want to swim next year?”

She sighed. “Fine. I’m going, but it’s going to be so boring without you.”

I wished I could go. It wasn’t too late to go. I put down the curling iron. It was way too late.

“Okay, I gotta go find my cutest outfit for DJ.”

“You mean for the awards ceremony.”

“Sure. That’s what I meant.”

We hung up, and I finished curling my hair. My hair was usually pulled back into a messy bun or ponytail, so it took me awhile to analyze if it actually looked good because it seemed so foreign at first. I wore the dress I wore to the museum like my mom had suggested. The dress wasn’t very comfortable. I had only bought it because Amelia insisted, so why was I wearing it again? Because my mom wanted me to. I went to my closet and pulled out a different dress that I changed into. I knew this was my passive-aggressive way of rebelling against tonight. I needed to find the courage now to do something a little less subtle. To actually say out loud to my parents that I was only doing this tonight for them and I wished Mom would support me more in my events.

I could say that. I would say that.

I shook my head and tried to concentrate on the speaker now up at the podium at the charity dinner. I felt guilty for letting my mind wander. My mom eyed my plate, which was still more than half full of food: chicken, rice, and vegetables. I wasn’t hungry. Which was rare because of how much I swam. But now that the season was over, I hadn’t swum all week. Maybe that was why I felt off. I thought the break would help my shoulders but they were stiffer than ever.

When the speaker finished to a round of applause, the lights dimmed and a video came up on the big screen. It was a different video every year. My mom always helped put it together. It usually followed the story of a local family and their struggles with the illness, then it finished with a slideshow of the faces in the community of those we’d lost over the years. Eric’s face was up there every year, a different picture each time. I watched the faces flash on and off the screen. Some were getting as familiar to me as my own brother’s.

“There he is,” my dad said in a soft voice when Eric’s picture came up. My dad smiled; my mom’s eyes glistened with tears. Me, nothing. No, actually, there was irritation. Instead of the pleasant feeling of fondness I’d had every other year, this year my dad had put a personality to my brother. Jackson’s personality. So seeing his smile up there made me imagine all the childish pranks he’d probably played on his friends and unsuspecting people. How much he needed people to like him. It made me think of how much my parents seemed to love that personality and not the hardworking one that I had.

My mom gave me a soft smile. “So glad you came tonight.”

Now was definitely not the time to say that I wished I could’ve gone to the awards banquet. I hadn’t even needed them to go with me.

Wait. They hadn’t offered that. . . . They hadn’t offered to go with me.

They only said it was my choice which one I wanted to go to. How come I hadn’t realized that before this moment? I looked down at my hands resting in my lap.

Mom reached over and squeezed my hand. She probably thought I was sad about the video. I probably should’ve been sad about the video. About my brother. Crap. Here I was again having a one-track mind. Only thinking about something related to swimming. I’d made the choice to be here; now I needed to be all here.

I refocused my energy up front, where a speaker was now talking about how important donations were and where the money from these donations went.

After the ceremony our table was bombarded with people. My mom was somewhat famous in this little community. People loved her. Last year she had gotten some award for how much money she had helped raise for the cause over the years.

A hand grabbed mine and shook it. I met the eyes of a kind older gentleman. “You must be so proud of your mother,” he said.

“Always.” And that was true.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

It took me too long to realize he was talking about my brother. “Right. Thank you,” I replied.

“What’s going on with you tonight?” Mom whispered when he walked away.

“I don’t know. A lot on my mind, I guess.”

She put her arm around my shoulders. “Can you be present tonight? It’s important. Today’s Eric’s day.”

Every day seemed to be Eric’s day. “I’m trying.”

“Thank you.”

“We can get Froyo after this, right?” Dad asked, coming up behind us.

“Don’t call it that,” Mom and I said at the same time.

He laughed. “It’s so much easier, though.”

When my mom turned to greet more people, Dad nudged my shoulder with his. “You okay, kid?”

“Yes, I think. Tired. You?”

“Hungry. That chicken was dry. I think I’m going to suggest a different menu for next year. I have some pull with one of the organizers.” He winked at me.

“Next year . . .” A future of endless charity events stretched out before me. If I couldn’t get out of it this year with a legitimate excuse, it was hopeless.

I was tired when I got home, so I shouldn’t have turned on my laptop. I should’ve just gone to sleep. But curiosity got the better of me and I clicked on pictures from the Heath Hall event we’d missed tonight—a night trek through some orchard. My eyes drifted to the envelope icon in the corner. It showed eight notifications. I clicked on it. There were a couple from Amelia, but I went straight to the ones from Heath Hall. The first one thanked me for being at the bungee jumping night. I rolled my eyes. He didn’t seem to care at all when I was there.

The next few asked how I was. Finally, the last one asked where I’d been. So he did notice when I wasn’t around.

I sent him a message. Has that stupid mask ever failed you?

After I hit Send, I realized the question came off a bit cranky. I wasn’t in the best mood. I probably shouldn’t have been sending him messages at all when I felt this way toward him, toward my parents.

How so? he responded.

I could’ve just dropped it, but I really did want to know. Have you ever set out to face a fear or reveal a truth or whatever it is you do and failed? Has your fear ever beat you?

Yes.

That was all he said. He didn’t expand or explain. But even just that simple confession calmed me a bit. I felt like I’d failed tonight. I wanted to tell my parents a truth and I let the truth be buried with their expectations.

What about you?

Every time. My finger hovered over the Send button, and I almost didn’t push it but realized how ironic that would be if, once again, I couldn’t admit a truth because of fear. So I hit Send and waited.