We say hi to the others, who say hi back, except for the other Ethan—?Sammy has to ask him several times to look up and acknowledge us.
Our Ethan says to us, “Julia is one of my best friends, and Ethan and I live in the same room, but I don’t usually hang out with Emily. I don’t know why she’s sitting with us right now.”
I say, “It’s nice to meet you all.”
Julia has dark skin and black curly hair and square glasses and a sort of hipster, intellectual look that may not be intentional but totally works for her. She stares at us openly, her scrutiny a little too intense to be comfortable. Emily is chubby and fair, and seems a little shy. The other Ethan has long reddish hair and an even redder beard and has already gone back to his drawing, which, I can see now, is really good—?a detailed pen-and-ink drawing of an octopus.
“Can we take Ethan to go talk alone somewhere?” David asks Sammy.
“Sure,” Sammy says. “So long as you stay on campus.”
“We can’t take him out to lunch?”
Sammy shakes his head. “Sorry, guys, but we only give off-campus permission to adult relatives.”
“I’m eighteen,” David says.
“You’d have to be over twenty-one.”
“I promise you we’re responsible.”
“I’m sure you are.”
There’s a short silence. David heaves an irritated sigh and turns to his brother. “Come on, Ethan—?you can show us around the school.”
“What about my drawing? I’m not done.”
Sammy says, “I’ll hold on to it for you. You can finish it later.”
“Don’t throw it out.”
“Of course not.”
But Ethan won’t leave until he’s watched Sammy put the drawing on an “unfinished work” shelf. Only then will he let us take him away.
Thirty-Seven
ONCE WE’RE OUTSIDE, David lowers his voice. “So what’s it like here, Ethan? Really?”
“I don’t know. Okay, I guess. Except Nicholas keeps putting on Bones. He says it’s a good show, but it’s not. It’s boring.”
“But how are the people? Like Sammy and the other helpers?”
“Sammy’s nice,” Ethan says. “He gives a lot of high-fives. Joe doesn’t give high-fives, but he does give fist bumps. Joe’s my other helper.”
“What about the teachers? Are they nice to you?”
“Pretty nice,” Ethan says, drawing out the first word a little dubiously. “They give a lot of homework, except we do it in study hall and we don’t ever go home, so I don’t know why they call it homework. I like creative writing and Spanish, but I don’t like math as much. I’m writing a play in creative writing. It’s about a police detective whose wife is killed by a thief.”
“That sounds super cool,” I say.
Ethan looks pleased. “Yes. The teacher said maybe we’ll actually put it on, with actors and everything. I would be the writer and the director. If we do, will you come see it?”
“Of course!”
“And Ivy?”
“Sure. I bet she’d love to see it.”
“Is she still gay?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
There’s a pause. “That’s okay,” he says after a moment. “It’s not her fault.”
“Yeah, it’s not really a fault kind of situation.”
David points to a bench on the grass and says, “Let’s sit here.” The two brothers sit down together, and I take a couple of photos of them with my phone, then say I need to use the bathroom—?I just want them to have a few minutes alone.
The campus feels both busy and peaceful as I wander back toward the main administration building, where I’d noticed a ladies’ room. Along the way, I do notice a couple of people who are screaming or rocking or crying—?but only a couple, and there’s always an aide soothing or calming or just sitting with them.
I stop still at one point because for a split second I think I see Ivy, waiting for a turn at handball, and I have a crazy moment of thinking, Did Mom bring her here? And then I realize it’s not Ivy. Of course it’s not Ivy. It’s just that this girl is dressed like her and is moving her hands the way Ivy does when she’s anxious, pumping them at her sides just like Ivy does. That one gesture conjured up Ivy for me.
What if Ivy did come here? Not as a visitor but as a student?
That thought tints everything I see on my way to the bathroom and back to the bench. Would she like it here? Would she be in that group of girls on the bench over there, who aren’t exactly laughing and chatting, but who seem to be sort of enjoying being together anyway? Or would she be alone with a caregiver, like the dark-haired young man near the tetherball pole, who’s clearly upset about something and having trouble calming down?
Ivy doesn’t usually like being outside, always wants to get back into the house if we try to get her to go for a walk or even just into the backyard. Would that change if she were here? Would she enjoy this beautiful afternoon, this pretty place? Or would she find some corner to sit in, where she’d hug herself and moan and miss her home?
I don’t know. I can’t picture her here, but a few hours ago, I couldn’t picture Ethan here either.
He’s talking loudly to David when I approach.
“. . . And so I said we shouldn’t watch The Amazing Spider-Man, because the first Spider-Man is better, but Nicholas said The Amazing Spider-Man is better. I got kind of mad and used a pretty bad curse word, and Joe said I couldn’t see the movie if I didn’t calm down and apologize, and I said I didn’t care if I didn’t see the movie since it was The Amazing Spider-Man, so I went back to my room. Julia told me afterward that she thought The Amazing Spider-Man was stupid but that Nicholas wouldn’t admit it.”
I say, “So is Nicholas your nemesis?”
“He’s my friend,” Ethan says seriously. “We do a lot together, but I don’t like him that much.”
“That sums up my entire middle-school social life.”
“Come on.” David stands up. “I want to see your dorm room.”
“Okay.” Ethan gets up too. As he moves into the lead, I whisper to David, “Well? What do you think?”
“I don’t know.”