I grabbed the baggie of crack rocks off the table and flushed it down the toilet. There’d be hell to pay for that later, but I doubted it would be worse than another night of my momma smoking that stuff. It made her act crazy, and she’d say things that didn’t make any sense. After I stripped out of my wet clothes, I plopped down on the stained mattress next to Kristian and stole the remote from him. “You don’t know how to swim,” he said, keeping his eyes on the TV. I flipped the channel. “Do now.” “It’s March.” My brother could be so annoying. He kicked me in his sleep, watched boring shows, and thought he knew everything. The fact he was mostly right irritated me even more. I’d also punch any kid who was mean to him. Momma’s friends were mean to him the most. They never bothered me, but still, sometimes, an angry red mist covered my eyes when they were here. Those men were too large for me to hurt now, but someday, I’d be big enough. “Everything’s still frozen,” he said. I wouldnt admit I’d held onto a piece of ice until I reached the shore even if Kristian saw me at it. With a shrug, I said, “I got hot.” In fact, I was feeling a little sweaty from the shaky nerves and my cold skin. I wiped sweat from my chest onto his cheek. He glared at me and rubbed it off with a hand. The room went silent, the dark room lit by the TV with a broken speaker. “We should go there,” he said to the TV, to a scene of New York City. “To America.” I shook my head. “I want to stay here.” His eyes came to me. “What are you gonna do, sleep on this mattress all your life?” “No, dimwit, I’m gonna be like him.” I nodded to the TV as a political commercial came on. “He’s the president,” Kristian said. “I know.” I didn’t know that. I just liked the way he looked in expensive clothes, with an audience in front of him. After a moment, he said, “You could be the president if you wanted to be.” “I don’t want to be the president.” I rested a sweaty arm on his shoulders. “I’m gonna be something better.”