After that, I drag all the boxes marked ETHAN into my room and stack them in the corner where they’ll be safe. And then I go over to the pool table to gather up the collage of photographs.
But it looks like a tornado went through it. The photos are flipped over and scattered around like somebody picked them all up and threw them into the air, letting them stay wherever they fell. And I’m beyond pissed off.
Several of them are missing. And a couple of them are ripped.
And it’s not okay. It really isn’t. My breathing gets all shallow and scratchy and I don’t know what to do—I just circle the pool table, not knowing where to start, how to fix it. Finally I snatch up the remaining photos and bring them into my room, wishing I could get a lock for my door. I sit down on the floor and spread them out, gently, trying to breath normally. And as I attempt to re-create the collage exactly as before, I stare at the empty spots, trying to remember which ones are no longer there. It’s like trying to plug in the broken pieces of my life. I can’t remember what’s missing.
I text Cami. Guess what? Blake wrecked my photos.
She replies instantly. Jerk. Wait, you still have phone privs?
Yeah. They wouldn’t take that away. They’re obsessed w/keeping track of me.
I noticed. But can you blame them?
I think about that. No, I guess not.
At least we can still talk this way.
I smile and type. Yeah. Family meeting tonight. Should be interesting. Will let you know!
I’ll be waiting.
I bite my lip. No date tonight? It’s Sat. No games or practice.
She doesn’t answer for a while. And then all she says is, Nope, I’m busy with some other projects at home tonight.
Like?
Like . . . making sure you live through the family meeting. *grin*
She makes me calm. She does. I don’t know how she does it. Sneak over tonight if you dare. Everybody’s avoiding me like the plague so it’s pretty safe.
Maybe. I gotta go now tho, k?
Yeah . . . thanks. You made me feel better.
Duh.
I grin and shove my phone into my pocket. And I look at the photographs, laid out like before, but with gaping holes now, and it’s killing me trying to remember which ones aren’t there. The one with Cami and the sno-cone machine is missing. I know that much.
Maybe once he has Gracie on his side, he’ll try to take Cami away too.
CHAPTER 37
With the blood washed off, Blake’s face doesn’t look nearly as bad. His swollen lip has gone down a little already and his nose looks normal. He does have a gray shadow under one eye and a red spot on his cheekbone, but they’re hardly war wounds. He sits in a chair at the far side of the room. Mama and Dad sit on the couch, Gracie between them. I slip into the remaining chair as the grandfather clock starts chiming six. I look at Gracie, and she looks at me, solemn.
I’m sorry. I mouth the words and make a sad face.
She smiles grimly, way beyond her years, and I feel like we’re on some dumb TV drama again. I worry that she’s here. She shouldn’t be here. But I don’t know where she’d go. Maybe Mama and Dad think there’s still a chance we can have some magical perfect family or something. Maybe by calling it a family meeting, in their minds it means peace, love, and happiness.
Dad lays down the rules. Everybody gets a chance to speak. No raised voices. Calm and civil. Yeah, right.
Mama says, “We’ve heard Blake’s side of the story already. Ethan, let’s start with you. Tell us what happened today.”
I feel like we’re all in kindergarten. “Cami and I decided to go sledding and you asked me if I’d take Gracie, which I did. We walked over to the big hill and Gracie and I went down the hill together a couple times, and we were having a blast, when Blake came storming over. For some stupid reason, after ignoring her for as long as I can remember, Blake is suddenly superprotective of Gracie and he even threatened me last night to stay away—”
“That’s because you’re a stranger!” Blake roars. “You guys, I’m trying to tell you. He’s a phony. That’s not Ethan!”
Mama raises her arms. “Stop it, Blake.” She points to me to continue.
I feel mildly redeemed. “He told me to stay away from Gracie, which is crazy. I think he’s just jealous that Gracie and I get along.”
“I couldn’t care less,” Blake says. “I’m just trying to save her life.”
“Boys. Calm down,” Dad warns.
Gracie looks alarmed and Dad whispers something to her.
“This is not fair,” I say, and I struggle to be calm, remembering what Cami said, but my voice pitches higher. “He’s scaring her. Will you please tell Gracie that she doesn’t have to be scared of me? Sheesh.”
“But he’s violent!” Blake says. “Look at what he did to me.”
I sit up in my chair. “You started it! You start it every time. You throw a punch or shove me and you expect me to walk away? Forget it. I wasn’t raised to be a pussy.” I turn to Mama. “Maybe you guys need to teach sonny boy here to stop starting shit!”
“Don’t use that language in this house,” Dad says, and he’s looking upset, like he just realized he lost control of this. “It’s unacceptable.”
“What’s unacceptable,” I say, “is that you are letting Blake get away with stuff because ‘things are tough for him.’ Oh, poor Blake. Try trading places with me, Blakey. Try taking your antagonizing act to the streets. You’ll see where that gets you.” I laugh bitterly. “In the morgue.”
“Mama, he just threatened to kill me. He’s not safe. And he’s not Ethan.” Blake has a smug look on his face.
“Blake,” Dad says. “That’s enough. Both of you.”
I think I’d feel more hurt by the accusation if Blake had any credibility left, but it’s clear he doesn’t. What hurts, though, is that Mama and Dad aren’t making him stop.
Gracie sits quietly on the couch, wide-eyed. I feel bad for her. I do. She’s stuck in this mess. I half-smile at her and she half-smiles back. Then it’s like Mama realizes Gracie’s here and this family meeting isn’t what she thought it would be. “Paul,” she says, and gives Dad a look. Dad picks Gracie up and takes her to her room, and I’m glad they finally got some sense.
“Blake,” Mama says, “Gracie said she saw you shove Ethan before he started punching you. You neglected to tell us that little bit.”
“I did not!” Blake says. It’s ambiguous as to what he’s denying—the shove, or the neglecting to tell—but either way, he looks guilty.
I feel a warm rush of love toward Gracie, stepping up to defend me. I owe her big.
“And Ethan,” Mama continues, “as a matter of fact, I do expect you to walk away from a shove. You’re older, and you need to be the bigger person here.”
“But, Mama! He starts it every time! That’s not fair—” I start to protest further, but she holds her hand up.
“No,” she says. “Shh. Just listen. It’s this simple. I don’t care how that horrible woman raised you or what you’ve had to resort to, but when you live here, you’re going to follow my rules. Clear?”
My jaw drops as her words cut into me. Did she just insult Ellen and me? I think she really did.
Dad comes back and sits next to Mama.
And Mama stares at me, waiting. “I said, is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I finally say in a cold voice. “But will you please make Blake stop scaring Gracie—”
“Quiet,” Mama says. She turns to Blake. “Now, Blake, this nonsense about Ethan not being Ethan has to stop. Really. I know you’re hurting, but you need to control your words, especially in front of Gracie. I know it’s really hard for you, and that things are different than you expected. But this isn’t going to solve anything. It only makes things harder and it’s really hurtful, not just to Ethan, but to all of us. So stop. Okay?”
Blake folds his arms over his chest. “I think you should get a DNA test.”
> I feel my face heat up. “Jeez!” I shout at him. I can’t help it. “Can you not shut up?”
Dad sits up like he’s ready to grab me if I go after Blake, but I stay in my chair like a good son. Dad gives me a long look, then turns to Blake. “Blake, that’s enough,” he says with finality. “Done.”
Blake shrugs and looks sullen.
It’ll take all my strength to keep from killing him with my bare hands.
CHAPTER 38
It’s dark and way after ten when I hear finger nails tapping on glass. I almost fall over myself getting from my room to the slider door. I let her in and slide the door closed again, smooth and quiet.
“You made it! You are awesome,” I whisper. She brings crisp air in with her and it wakes me up.
She grins. “How did it go? Awful?”
“Pretty bad.”
Cami unzips her coat and slips it off. We sit on the floor by the slider in the dark, away from any heat vents, since noise obviously travels both ways. And in case she has to make a fast getaway. “But it’s over. I just hate that Blake is making Gracie scared of me.”
“Do you think Gracie is really scared of you? Or is she scared of the fighting?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. And I don’t. “I wonder if she thinks I could ever possibly hurt her because I hurt Blake?”
“Would you?”
“Of course not. Never.” I search Cami’s face. “Do you think I would?”
“No,” she says. “Not even if you wanted to.”
But that’s not enough for me. I ask, “Do you think I would ever hurt you?”
Her black eyes are sweet. “No way. Never.”
I sit back, relieved. “What did you do tonight?” I ask. I like how this is, sitting here in the dark, whispering. It gives me goose bumps to have her this close, this intimate.
She waves her hand like there was nothing of note, and then she says, “My mom and I do this thing once a month where we make a hundred and fifty sack lunches for the shelter. They hand them out to the shelter patrons so they can have a meal on the road when they go find work and stuff. So, yeah,” she says, almost like she’s embarrassed to tell me. “Tonight we did that.” She laughs. “My fingers still smell like peanut butter.”
She breaks my heart, she really does. Does she have any idea how much I counted on shelter sack lunches? They were gold. “Let me smell,” I say.
She holds her fingers to my face and I take her hand. It’s soft. I close my eyes and breathe in. I can smell the peanut butter, barely. I open my eyes and she’s watching me. I hesitate, moisten my lips. Then softly kiss the tip of her forefinger. And she stares at me.
I swallow hard. Hold her fingers to my lips, and she doesn’t pull her hand away. I kiss her second fingertip, and then her third. Her pinkie. And then I go back to her forefinger and run my tongue over the tip of her fingernail, my eyes never leaving hers. Her eyelids close halfway, and I circle her fingertip with my tongue and then kiss it again.
She leans in.
I can feel her breath on my lips.
I think I’m going to pass out.
And then she kisses me, so fucking sweet I want to hold her forever.
It lasts ten seconds, maybe more. Feels like more. But then we break the kiss and we both sit back and just breathe and look at each other.
“That was hot,” Cami says. “Yikes.”
I nod and try to shift without making it obvious that I’ve got a boner the size of a nun-chuck. “Yikes?” I ask. “That’s not the usual reaction, you realize, right?” Tempest never said “yikes.” She always said “more.” But I don’t want to think about Tempest ever again.
She blushes and I can see her sexy bottom lip shining. “I mean, it was awesome. A little too awesome. I—” I can see the guilt in her eyes.
“Don’t,” I say quietly. “Just wait one second.” I lean in, brush her chin with my fingers, and take her bottom lip in my teeth, running my tongue over it, and I can feel her shiver. I kiss her full on, taste her tongue, and think I’m going to die. My fingers slide through her hair and she slips her arms around my neck, and here we are, crazy, both of us starving for this. And I don’t want to think about why I am starving, or why she is; I just want to kiss her, taste her, be with her.
Before she says it. Before she gives me those sad eyes and makes excuses and gets her J-Dog regret all over everything. And when this kiss winds down, I’ll walk away and let her be with him, and I’ll be okay with just the memory of it. Because it’s enough. It has to be enough.
It’s not enough.
We’re like South America and Africa. Like two continents that exist far away from each other, so totally different from one another, but if you push them together, if you nestle Brazil up into the armpit of Nigeria, it all fits, like they were made for each other. Like they were of the same skin. Like one broke away from the other a long time ago, but now it’s back. A puzzle, completed.
I’m back. And I want my other skin.
I’ve never kissed for love before.
When it ends, I search her eyes. I don’t know if she feels like I feel, or if she’s conflicted. I don’t blame her for being conflicted about J-Dog. I don’t.
As for me, I’d run out in front of a bus if she told me to. I can’t hide it. She’s got me so caught up in her. I am Nigeria and she’s my Brazil, and we exist in this moment, in this quiet, dark little spot by the slider door.
But all I can think of to say, right here, right now, is “Please give me a chance.”
Her face is a conflicted story. The wrinkle of her forehead, the line of her eyebrow, the swell of her lips. Her eyes flicker, searching mine.
And then she reaches up, touches my cheek. And says, “Okay.”
I stare. I can’t help it. “What did you say?”
“I said okay.”
I want to shout for joy, but instead I pick up her coat and bury my face in it, trying not to make any noise, a huge grin spreading across my face. And then I grab her and kiss her and we’re laughing and shushing each other.
When I can get my breath, I realize what she has to do now. “Oh, shit,” I say, my grin fading. “He’s going to kill me.”
Cami shrugs. “I don’t think he’ll kill you.”
“But . . . are you sure?”
She smiles. “Let’s lie low for a while, okay? I’ll break up with him tomorrow. I won’t say it’s because of you. We’ll keep it normal, like we have been. I’m sure he’ll pick up another girl to string along and it’ll be all good.” Her voice is a little bitter. I like that more than I should.
And I feel like a coward, but I like her plan too. I nod.
She sits up and smoothes her hair. “I should get home before my mother freaks. It’s late.”
We kiss again at the door, and then she slips out into the shadows and through the backyards to her house. I close my eyes and lean against the doorframe for a minute, letting it all sink in. I can’t stop grinning. Finally, something is going my way.
I’m starving. I go upstairs for a late-night snack and I’m surprised to see a light still on in the living room. I grab a bran muffin from a basket on the counter and make my way over to the living room to see if it’s Mama snoozing on the couch, and then I stop short.
It’s Blake. He’s studying my second-grade photo on the wall.
I narrow my eyes. “What are you doing?”
Blake wheels around, surprised.
I take a bite of my muffin.
“Nothing,” he says. He shoves past me and goes to his room.
But not even Blake can faze me right now. I turn out the light and go back down to my little stress-free cave to dream about my girl.
CHAPTER 39
Sunday morning Mama drags us all to church, and I’m surprised it’s held right at my high school—no church building. There are a few people dressed up, but mostly they’re just wearing jeans and sweaters. The music isn’t too bad, but I don’t sing. Still, I’m surprised at ho
w normal it is and really glad nobody makes me stand up or be healed or come to Jesus or whatever, like they do on TV.
Gracie sticks with Dad. Blake and I keep our distance from each other, and Mama looks like she’ll beat the crap out of us if we do anything. I’m not about to cross her on that. My new goal is to get my ass ungrounded so I can spend more time with Cami.
I look around the place and see a lot of people who look familiar, like from school. Cami and her family are on the other side of the auditorium and I swear I start sweating just seeing her. And when church is done and we turn around to go home, I see J-Dog and I get that scary thing in my gut. But he goes the other way and I watch him weave through people toward Cami.
I don’t think she’s broken up with him yet because he slips his arm around her. My feet cement themselves in place and I can’t take my eyes away. He leans down and kisses her and I’m getting sick. But she laughs and pulls away and shoves her purse under her arm, like it’s a buffer, and that feels better to me. It’s cool, because she doesn’t even know I’m here, so I feel good about it. It’s like what she said last night actually stayed alive until today—it didn’t die after a good night’s sleep, like most crazy good things do. I look up at the ceiling and think, Thank you, God, even though I’m pretty sure he’s not up there hanging around in the high school rafters or on the catwalk.
And when Cami and J-Dog start walking out and talking together, they look serious. Cami spies me and she flashes a big, quick smile of surprise, happy to see me. She nods like we have a plan, and I make a fist and hold it to my chest, like it’s her heart next to mine.
God, when did I turn into such a fucking sap?
I catch up to my parents and, big surprise, they didn’t even notice I wasn’t with them for the past forty-five seconds. Maybe they think church is safe or something. That’s a mistake, if you ask me.