So far, it hadn’t worked.Beside me was Rio, my now fourteen-year-old brother. Since only two of us were allowed in at a time, my dad was outside in the waiting room.I think he believed that sending Rio and me in together would help break the ice between us, get us talking. Not so much. Oh, my brother kept stealing glances at me out of the corner of his eye, like he couldn’t believe I was really there, but he wasn’t saying a word. Even worse, he didn’t exactly look happy to see me.In fact, he looked downright angry. Not just at me, but at the whole world. In the eight months that I’d been underwater, his appearance had undergone a radical change. The surfing tees and board shorts were MIA, replaced by black jeans and T-shirt, a chained belt, and spiked, black leather bracelets. His shaggy blond surfer’s cut had been shaved into a Mohawk he spiked up with a copious amount of gel, his flip-flops replaced by Doc Martens. I was also pretty sure he was wearing my favorite black eyeliner.I had no idea what to say to him at this point, especially since my first few tries at starting a conversation had been shut down.
