There's a crash against the bedroom wall. Coffee mug, he thinks, because the sound is too dull for a pan. And he's really gotten very good at this game.

"Charlie?"

He rolls over on his side, hanging his head down over the side of his bunk. The only part of his sister he can see is the wide whites of her eyes.

"What is it, Dee?" "Can I sleep with you?"

He sighs loudly enough to be heard over the screaming in the other room. He rolls his eyes even though he knows Deena can't see, because he wouldn't want anyone to think that he actually likes this idea.

"Okay. But you have to get up yourself. I'm not going to help you this time."

The second crash comes when Deena's halfway up. It's sharp and shattered and probably half full of something that looks like dirty water and tastes like fire.

"Aren't you up yet, slowpoke?"

"Charlie," she whines and he can see just the top of her head over the railing. "Please."

"Give me your hands." He grasps her around both small wrists and rolls back, dragging her over the top of his chest. He lets her lie there for a moment, until she starts giggling, at which point he unceremoniously dumps her to the side.

Drawing an imaginary line on the sheet he rolls her towards the edge abutted to the wall. "Your side." He tries his best to sound stern, but knows it will only be a matter of minutes before his territory is subject to a hostile takeover.

He turns on his side, facing the door, and notices that the screaming has stopped, giving way to low murmured voices. And that's good. The lights under the door will go out for the night, and his dad will go to bed while his mom goes to work.

But the lights stay on, and the front door slams. Hard.

Deena is oblivious and right on time. Her small back is pressed up against his, and he can hear the small hitching sighs that tell him she's already asleep.

It's the other stuff that is missing. The whine of the shower, the rustle of snack baggies full of tomorrow's lunch being shoved into brown paper bags, the rattle of his mom's utility belt. Instead all he can hear is a quiet, choked kind of sighing. And it's too much like the nights Deena cries herself to sleep.

Minutes later, the door opens, and Charlie can see the shiny reflections on his mom's cheeks when she stands next to the bed.

"Mom?"

"I need you to look after Dee tonight. Can you do that for me Charlie?"

He nods solemnly as she kisses his forehead.

After she's gone, he rolls over, sliding one arm under Deena's head as the other drags her small body closer to his. Her head rests on his shoulder and he thinks he can do this for his mom. He can look after Deena.