The Boy Who Stopped Being a Ghost

“Recite it! Recite it again! Noah never gets it wrong!”

My dad stood behind me with a ruler in his hand, forcing me to wear the washed-out old sneakers my brother had worn before he died and stand in front of the memorial photo in the living room, reciting high school classical texts and formulas over and over again.

After my brother Noah drowned that summer, my dad went insane.

He made a chilling rule: on odd-numbered days, I was my dead brother Noah, and on even-numbered days, I was the living Ethan.