Page 131 of Darius the Great Is Not Okay

I thought about how selfish I was.

I really hated myself.

My foot was bleeding.

I had sliced my heel when I climbed the chain-link fence to our spot in the park. We were supposed to celebrate Sizdeh Bedar there.

I didn’t think that was going to happen anymore.

From the Jameh Mosque, the azan sounded, piercing the quiet afternoon. All across Yazd, people faced the qibla to pray, a titanic multicellular entity focused on the same moment in space-time.

My throat clamped up, a compression wave that traveled down my chest and into my stomach.

Another containment failure.

I wiped my face against my Team Melli jersey, the one Sohrab got me for Nowruz.

No one had ever gotten me a gift like Sohrab had. One that showed he understood me perfectly. One that made me feel like I belonged.

No one had ever invited me to play soccer or hang around on rooftops or stand around a Ping-Pong table eating lettuce.

No one ever made me feel like it was okay to cry. Or bumped shoulders with me and made me smile.

I shook so hard, I thought the bathroom was going to lose molecular cohesion and collapse into a vibrating pile of dust.

I was never going to stop crying.

Sohrab was right about me.

Sohrab was right about everything.

I crossed my elbows over my knees and buried my face in the little hollow I had made.

I wished I had the One Ring, so I could have vanished.

I wished I had a cloaking device so no one would ever find me.

I wished I could just disappear forever.

“Darius?”

It was impossible.

How had Stephen Kellner located me?

The chain-link fence rattled as he hoisted himself up. “There you are.”

“Hey.” My throat didn’t work right. I sounded like I had swallowed a pineapple with its skin still on.

Dad wiped his palms on his pants and sat down beside me, so close, our elbows bumped.

I scooted away so we weren’t touching.

“We were worried about you.”

“Sorry.”

“Mr. Rezaei said you left Sohrab’s house hours ago. Have you been up here the whole time?”