“He stopped by his locker, and then he went out to the main parking lot. He met up with another boy, a fifth-grader I'm guessing, and then the two of them got into the back of a car.”
“Did you see who was driving? Was it his mother? His father?”
“No, I was too far away. And the windows were tinted.”
“What kind of car was it?”
“The kind with four wheels and a trunk.” She sighed indignantly. “What do I know about cars? It was big and black.”
“Did you get a good look at the other boy?”
“Not really. He wore the same kind of clothes as Ethan, and they looked a lot alike. They even had the same spiky hair. Maybe it's his little brother.”
I sighed. “Thanks, Penny.”
“No prob. Hasta luego.”
I went up to my room and flopped down on the bed. Dad usually got home around six o'clock on a good day. I was thankful that I was finally old enough to be on my own for a few hours without Dad freaking out about my safety. For the last few years, he insisted I spend my time with Mrs. Lennander next door instead of being alone in the house on those nights that Tom was out. That wasn't so bad, but helping her take care of her two toddlers, Bryan and Emi, often made it hard to get my mind back on studying. And when they weren't home, I had to go to Mrs. Sutton's house down the street. She was a nice old lady, but her house looked and felt like a museum. A museum that smelled like mothballs and potpourri. I don't think there was anything in it that was less than thirty years old, including the TV.
I had no memory of my mom: she died of a brain aneurysm when I was still in diapers. It hit my dad really hard, since they'd been together since their first year of college, but he was somehow able to keep me and Tom in line and still be a darn good cop. Officer Martin Callahan had risen through the ranks in the Denver P.D., and when a Senior Detective job at the Phoenix precinct was offered to him three years ago, he jumped at the chance. We were ecstatic. Not that we didn't love Colorado, but I was happy to be in a place that wouldn't require hours of shoveling snow come winter.
I loved these moments when it was just me and my thoughts. The house was quiet. In fact, there was no noise at all except for the sound of a distant leaf-blower, mixed with the occasional jingle of Bruno playing with his latest cat-toy. It took a while for it to settle in that I was truly alone, as Tom left to begin his freshman year at UCLA a few weeks ago.
I pictured Ethan's face. I'd stolen glances at him every day since the school year started, trying to get some kind of read on him. He paid attention in Algebra class - it was hard not to pay attention to Mr. McCann - and Ethan seemed to be doing okay, but other than that, nothing was breaking through. There was a sadness about him, an almost haunted look in his eyes, and I wondered for a moment if he'd been bullied at his previous school … wherever that was. I remembered how Joshua was when I first saw him on the bus three years ago, isolated and forgotten, before Eve helped him take his first steps out of that horribly dark place he'd been forced into.
But I wasn't getting the same vibe from Ethan. He was one of the taller boys in our class, and he didn't seem like the type who would take crap from other kids without fighting back. He seemed more uncomfortable than anything else, including his clothes. He looked as uncomfortable as if his mom had dressed him herself, in clothes that didn't even belong to him. And his short, spiky hair looked like someone else's half-hearted attempt to make him look cooler.
He looked like he wanted to belong, but was making a serious effort not to. Wait, does that even make sense?
I'm really intrigued now. Guess I'll have to keep digging.
Chapter 4
~ DAY 8 (Mon.) ~
ETHAN
Instead of hanging out on the outdoor stage reading like I'd already done a few times, I spent recess period checking out the school a little more. After a week, I knew the locations of all my classrooms, the cafeteria, the locker building and a few other areas. No one had offered to give me a guided tour.
I'd brought the only book I packed when we moved, but I didn't feel like reading it today. I really should get some more books. A Kindle would be awesome, but that'll never happen.
As I indulged in my own tour of the school grounds, I scouted the landscape that made up my middle school world. I made careful note of where the various cliques preferred to hang out. The athletes spent their recesses shooting hoops on the basketball courts or on the playground, playing touch football. The brains met in the library or in the computer lab. The popular girls hung out at the picnic tables in front of the library, where they could flaunt their superior status in front of everybody. Everyone else just formed into groups in various spots, chatting about whatever.
I'd done my best to come off to my new classmates as a loner. I'd obviously been successful, because no one had spoken more than a few words to me since my arrival. I did occasionally see people looking at me from time to time, but not nearly as much as in my first couple of days at JMMS. Even the girls that silently flirted with me before were now ignoring me. Guess the novelty's worn off.
In only a week, I had been accepted. Well, okay, not accepted, but allowed to blend in with the crowd. I was just another face to them.
I was glad no one had taken it upon themselves to “initiate” me, the way I'd done to Scotty. No one had vandalized my locker, no one had thrown anything at my head from an anonymous distance. There were a few preppy types I'd caught glaring at me during lunch, trying their best to look macho, but they'd stayed away as well. I was glad I was taller than most of them and could handle myself in a fight.
The only person paying any consistent attention to me was the girl in my Algebra class. She was good at sneaking glances without being obvious about it, but not great. On the few occasions we met each other's gaze, I could sense a fair amount of intelligence in her eyes. When Mr. McCann asked the class to solve problems verbally, she raised her hand quite often. She always came into and left the classroom with two girls I figured were her best friends: the tall, athletic brunette and the tiny blonde with the short hair. I still hadn't learned any of their names.
I was surrounded by kids my own age, but I was starting to feel like I wasn't even here.
Crap. I think I pulled off this whole “loner” thing a little too well. I'm bored out of my skull. I don't need to be popular, but maybe just ONE friend? Please?
Pop never actually told me or my brother that we couldn't make friends … only to keep a low profile. It was like some episode of The Twilight Zone or something we used to watch. Since I didn't know any of them, I didn't have any reason to talk to any of them. And since they didn't know me, they didn't have any reason to talk to me. I desperately wanted to talk to someone. Anyone. Maybe I'd never talk to anyone ever again.
My aimless wandering eventually led me back to the building that housed the boys' lockers. With nothing else to do, I figured I'd collect my books for fifth and sixth periods. Maybe I could get a jump on my classmates by reading my textbooks. Wow. You know you're beyond bored if you're actually studying to kill time. I opened my locker, staring at its sparse contents.
My name is Ethan Zimmer, and my life REALLY sucks.
“Yo, boss,” said a voice behind me, snapping me out of my daze.
I turned around. Facing me was a guy wearing faded jeans, a faded blue denim jacket and a T-shirt sporting some squiggly lines forming a word that I couldn't quite make out. He had short, dark, artistically-styled hair and a silver earring on his left ear. It also struck me at that moment that he'd spoken to me with a moderately thick accent.
I gave him a puzzled look. “You talking to me?” I asked, before stupidly realizing we were the only ones in the building. Doofus.
“Yeah,” he said. “You're the new guy, right?” The accent definitely sounded Irish, or something close to it.
“I guess so.”
He nodded. “You're really into 80's hard rock, huh?”
I looked down at my shirt, which featured
Def Leppard today. “Yeah. I grew up listening to it. It's old, but it's cool.” I hoped he couldn't tell that this statement was only about thirty percent true.
“Damn right. Can't beat the classics.” He held out his hand. “Name's Sebastian. Call me 'Baz,' everyone else does.”
I smiled a little, returning the handshake. “Ethan. Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” he said, smiling as well. “How ya likin' it here so far?”
I shrugged. “It's okay, I guess. Haven't really figured it all out yet.”
Baz shut and locked his locker, hoisted up his backpack, and walked over to me. “Ahh, nothin' to it. There're some really cool guys here. Cool girls, too, if you know where to look.” He tilted his head. “Unless you'd rather be alone …”
“No,” I said, answering his question a little too eagerly. “That sounds great.” Something I'd overheard in the cafeteria chose that moment to pop into my brain. “Wait a minute … 'Baz'? As in, Baz the rock star?”
He smirked. “No, Baz the aspiring rock star. People here just love to exaggerate.” He grinned.
“What do you mean?”
“A couple o' buds and me have played a couple o' gigs. Nothin' big. But some girls seem to think that we're about to embark on a world tour or something.” He cocked his head slightly. “Ya play any instruments?”
I blushed, slightly embarrassed. “No,” I said. Hope he doesn't think that makes me uncool.
“Sing?”
I averted my gaze, staring over his shoulder at nothing. “Don't think so. Never really tried before.”
“No prob,” Baz said reassuringly. “Maybe you can come hang out at my house and watch us practice some time.”
I smiled. Finally, a break from the boredom! “Where do you live?”
“Corner of 5th Avenue and Mulberry.”
I was ecstatic that I'd actually taken the trouble to learn the street names in our area. “That's not too far from where I live. About ten minutes' walk, I think.”
“Great!” Baz clapped me on the shoulder. “We get together to practice in our garage between 4:30 and 6:00 every Tuesday and Friday. Feel free to swing by … just follow the sound of the hopelessly out-of-tune music.”
“Sure thing.” I grinned. Maybe this place isn't so bad after all.
Just then, the fifth-period bell rang. I grabbed my backpack, sighing. “Crap. Time to get to Algebra.” I started to walk out, but turned back to face my new friend. “Thanks, Baz.”
“For what?”
I shrugged. “For talking to me.”
“Ah, that's nothin', boyo,” he said. “Gettin' me to talk is easy. It's gettin' me to shut up that's hard.” He smiled broadly. “Catch ya later.” Then he walked out the other exit.
Hmm. A friend. And a really cool one, it seems. Someone must have been listening. If you're still there, Man Upstairs, thank you.
Chapter 5
~ DAY 10 (Wed.) ~
KELSEY
Bree, April, Penny and I left the cafeteria, walked past the outdoor stage area, and headed for the bleachers nearest the playground. That was our preferred hangout; it was a good place to talk, observe our classmates and study. We sat there practically every day, and had done since the start of seventh grade.
On our way to the bleachers, I turned my head and saw Ethan on the outdoor stage, sitting with his back up against the brick wall, reading a book. He had his hood pulled up over his head, but I knew it was him; his clothes were all black, as he never seemed to wear any other color. There were a few other kids milling around him, but none of them paid him any notice.
“Hey, guys, look,” I said, slowing to a halt. One by one, the others all did the same. We all stared at him, but if he registered he was being watched by four girls, he didn't show any signs of it.
“One of us should go talk to him or something,” I said.
“I nominate you,” said April.
I glared at her. “Why can't you do it? You like talking to boys.”
“Not all boys, Kelse. Besides, I have a boyfriend, remember?”
“How about you, Penny?” I asked nervously. “You've already spoken to him.”
“Barely,” she replied. “And only because you asked me to. Besides, you're the one that's into him.”
“Bree, what do you think?” I asked, ignoring Penny's obvious barb.
She scowled. “I think we should just leave him alone. He seems fine with it, why aren't you?”
Good question. Damn my curious brain. My glance wavered between Ethan and the faces of my friends, all of whom were looking at me expectantly.
I sighed. “Fine, I'll do it. Just wait for me on the bleachers.”
April smiled. “Don't forget to tell him you're in love with him.”
I glared at her again. “Remind me to punch you later,” I said, and then climbed the steps to Ethan's improvised reading room.
Ethan didn't look up as I approached. My thoughts racing, I couldn't quite decide whether I should talk to him from a standing or a sitting position. Don't be rude, Kelsey. Make a good impression. “Ethan?” I asked as politely as I could.
Slowly, his eyes moved from his book to my face. He didn't return the greeting, but merely raised his eyebrows.
I found myself getting more nervous by the moment. Hoping my legs weren't shaking, I asked, “Mind if I sit down?”
“Go ahead,” he replied after a brief pause. Thankful to get off my feet before my knees buckled under the weight of my nerves, I sat down next to him, leaning up against the wall. His eyes returned to the pages of his book.
“What'cha reading?” I asked. God, I probably sound like such a dork. Come on, Ethan, give me something. Anything!
After another pause, he closed his book and handed it to me. It was an old paperback, quite worn, with the picture of a brown rabbit on the cover. Watership Down by Richard Adams, it read. It was pretty thick, so it probably wasn't a children's book. “Looks cool,” I said. Handing it back to him, I noticed a set of initials written in marker across the pages. “What's it about?”
He took the book back, but still wouldn't look at me. “It's about rabbits.”
“I could've figured that out from the cover.”
He smiled slightly, and I did the same. Yay, progress! “There's this colony of rabbits that has to search for a new home after their warren is destroyed. They're looking for a place where they can be safe from their enemies, like dogs and hawks and people. When they find another colony of rabbits, they think they're safe, but that colony is run by an evil, mean rabbit called General Woundwort. They have to fight their way out and escape.”
“Do they find a new home?” I asked.
“Yeah, they do.”
“That's good. I read a lot of mysteries and detective stories and stuff.”
Ethan looked at me curiously. “That's … different. For a girl, I mean.”
I smiled. “Thanks for not saying 'weird'.”
“How'd you get into that?”
“Well, my dad's a detective, and when my mom died, talking about police stuff gave us something to do together.” I fidgeted slightly. “My brother Tom never really got into it, so solving problems kind of became our … thing. You know, for fun.”
He stared at me. “Your dad's a cop?”
“Yup. Almost twenty years now.”
He continued to stare at me silently for a few moments. Finally, he shifted his gaze away from me. After an awkward pause, he said, “Are you going to be a detective someday?”
I shrugged. “I might. A lot of people call me 'Detective,' because I'm good at figuring stuff out, and I think it sounds cool. Or maybe I'll be a private eye like Sam Spade.”
His brow furrowed. “Who?”
Duh, Kelsey, Sam Spade was, what, eighty years ago? Of course he's never heard of it! “Never mind. Truth is, I haven't decided what I'm gonna be when I grow up.” I put on my most disarming smile. “What do you want to be?”
He shrugged. “No idea. Haven't reall
y thought that far ahead.”
I paused, trying to think of something else to say. Keep going, Kelsey. You've got him talking now. “What's your brother's name?”
Ethan got a strange look in his eyes. “How'd you know I have a brother?”
“You're the 'new guy.' Lots of people are talking about you. Everybody knows you have a brother.” Well, four people, anyway.
He stared into space. “His name is, uh, Logan.”
“Logan,” I repeated. “Ethan and Logan Zimmer. Good names.” 'Good names?' Lame, Kelsey!
“Er, thanks,” he replied. “Do you have a name? Or do I just call you 'Detective'?”
Oh, hell no. Did I seriously forget to introduce myself? He must think I'm such a doofus! “It's, uh, Kelsey. Kelsey Callahan.”
He smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
I relaxed a little. Yay, he can smile! He smiled at me! Um … what do I do now? “Uh, thanks,” I said, gulping. “I haven't seen you talk to anyone since the school year started, and I figured someone should, you know, talk to you. And since no one else has yet,” and because you're darn cute, “I figured I should be the one to welcome you to JMMS. Officially.” Oh, I hope I'm not coming off like I'm into him. Well, maybe a little. Not too much.
He opened his book again. Still smiling, he said, “Thanks.” He started reading again.
I guess that's my cue to go. I stood up. “Look, um …” He met my gaze again. “If you ever want to talk again–”
“I'd like that,” he said nonchalantly.
“Me too,” I said, turning away just in case I was blushing. “See you later.”
“Later,” he replied, not looking up.
I took a step away, but then turned to face him. “Who's MDC?” I asked.
He looked up at me. I wasn't sure, but I could swear I could see fear in his eyes, just for the briefest of moments. “What are you talking about?”
I pointed at his novel. “It's written on the side of your book.”
He held the book at eye-level, as if noticing the letters for the first time. He closed his eyes.
Ethan's Secret (James Madison Series Book 2) Page 4
