Things I Should Have Known

by Claire Lazebnik

  Sammy stands up too. “Just be aware that if he tells you he’s miserable, it may be because you represent home to him and he’s still thinking that’s where he belongs, and not because anything is going wrong here.”

  “Or,” David says, “it may be because he’s actually miserable.”

  “I’m with him every day,” Sammy says, and for the first time, his voice sounds a little tight. “I promise you he’s not.”

  “How about you actually let me talk to him, and I’ll judge for myself?”

  Sammy hesitates, glancing at me. I flash my Love Me! smile at him. I don’t actually disagree with what David’s saying, but, man, he needs to learn not to alienate people who could help him.

  “We can’t wait to see him!” I say, all bouncy hair, white teeth, and adorability. “We’ve missed him a lot!”

  “All right, then!” Sammy responds to my smile with one of his own. “Come on.”

  He holds the side door open for us, and we tromp through and then across a sunlit patch of grass to a path that takes us past a group of students who are attempting some tai chi exercises, past a couple of small buildings, past another group working in a garden, and eventually to the walkway of a long, low building, where Sammy leads us inside. “Arts and crafts,” he says as we enter.

  There are a couple of looms and a few potter’s wheels, baskets of yarn and thread, a row of sewing machines, several big tables where students are working, and shelves all around them filled with art supplies and paper. I’m still gazing around, taking it all in, when David suddenly runs over to one of the tables and throws his arms around Ethan, who’s sitting there drawing with a few other people.

  Ethan twists around so he can look at his brother. “Hi, David. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to visit you!”

  “I’m doing art,” Ethan says. “I’m not done yet. I have art from ten thirty to eleven thirty on Saturdays.” He spots me. “Hi, Chloe! Did you come with David?”

  “Yes! It’s so good to see you.” I bend down to hug him.

  He looks a little different to me, maybe because he’s wearing sweatpants and flip-flops, and I’ve only seen him in jeans and sneakers before. Everyone seems to wear sweatpants and flip-flops at this place.

  “Where’s Ivy?” he asks, peering around me like she might be hiding behind somewhere.

  “She’s not here. Sorry.”

  Sammy says, “Hey, Ethan—​how about you introduce all your friends to your brother and Chloe?”

  “Okay.” Ethan flaps his hand at each of his table companions in turn. “This is Julia, and this is Emily, and this is also Ethan. They call me Ethan F and him Ethan W because my last name is Fields and his is Wilson.”

  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.”

  “He seems pretty good.”

  “Maybe they told him that if he complained, they’d lock him in his room or stop feeding him or something.”

  I roll my eyes. “This isn’t a Dickens novel, David.”

  “I never said it was.” He strides forward impatiently, so I have to scramble to keep up.

  On the front step of the dorm building, which is a couple of stories tall and more blocky than the other buildings we’ve been in, Ethan reaches inside his shirt and pulls out a key card attached to a lanyard around his neck.

  “Only the people who live here can go in,” he says as he expertly waves it in front of a sensor. “But it’s okay for you to come in, because you’re with me. You can’t come in without me, though.”

  “Got it,” David says.

  “Same for my room,” Ethan says, leading us through the hallway. “You can only come in if I take you. It’s the same key.” He heads up a flight of stairs, and we follow. “These are the stairs I usually take. There are other ones, but they’re farther away. And there’s an elevator, but it’s only for people who can’t walk up the stairs. When I’m tired, I think I should get to take the elevator, but Sammy and Joe won’t let me.”

  “Why won’t they let you?” David says. “That’s weird.”

  “I know,” Ethan says. “Really weird.”

  “They probably just think it’s faster and easier to take the stairs,” I say. We reach the top. “Which one’s your room?”

  “The second door on the right-hand side, coming from these stairs, and the third door on the left-hand side, coming from the other stairs.”

  “Let’s see it.”

  “Okay, but it’s weird being here now. Usually we’re not allowed to be in the dorms during school hours.” He pulls out his keycard again.

  “What if you’re sick?” David asks.

  “Then you go to the infirmary. There’s a nurse and three beds. I met the nurse last week because I got a splinter in my finger. It hurt so much. It hurt as much as getting stabbed with a knife.” He pushes the door open. “This is my room. I share it with Nicholas and Ethan W and Jonathan, but Jonathan went home this weekend because his grandmother died.”

  “Oh, poor Jonathan,” I say.

  “She was ninety-two years old. She was born in 1925, which was between the two world wars. Jonathan said she was supposed to die last year, but she didn’t, and his parents had to cancel their summer vacation, so his mother was annoyed.”

  I laugh.

  “That wasn’t a joke. Why are you laughing?”

  “I’m just so happy to see you?” I offer guiltily.

  David has been circling around the room, checking everything out with a worried frown on his face. “So this is your bed?” He points to the top mattress on one of the bunks.

  “Yeah. Don’t you see my blanket from home?”

  “That’s how I knew. You like being on the top?”

  “No!” Ethan says. “I hate it. If you need to go to the bathroom, you have to climb down in the dark, and it’s hard to find the places to put your feet. I wanted to be on the bottom, but Ethan W already had the bottom and said I couldn’t have it.”

  “You’re kidding me,” David says. “That sucks.”

  “Someone has to take the top bunk,” I say. “And Ethan’s the new guy, so—”

  “That’s exactly why he should have a decent place to sleep. I’ll make them change this before we leave.” David continues to prowl the room. “What about your clothes? Where do you keep those?”

  “I get half of the drawers.” Ethan points to one of two plain wooden dressers. “The bottom ones. And Ethan W gets the ones on top.”

  “That’s not fair either!” David slams his palm on the top of the dresser. Ethan flinches. “It’s harder to get stuff in and out of the bottom drawers. You have the worst of both worlds. The least they could do is give the people in the top bunks the top drawers.”

  “I didn’t think about that,” Ethan says nervously. “I should have. The top should go with the top. No one told me that before.”

  “Because it’s not an actual rule,” I say. “Most people don’t care which drawers they get. I know I don’t—​Ivy has the top ones in our room, and I don’t care.”

  “It’s a fairness thing,” David says. “They’re treating Ethan like a second-class citizen.” He turns back to his brother. “What happens with your dirty clothes?”

  “I have a hamper in the closet. Mine is blue. Ethan W’s is green, and Jonathan’s is red, and Nicholas’s is yellow. Nicholas keeps putting his clothes in mine, though. He says that means I have to wash them for him.”

  “You don’t,” I say. “He’s just teasing. Are there laundry machines in the building? Do they help you do it, or are you on your own?”

  “I do my laundry on Mondays,” Ethan says. “Sammy helps. I separate the whites from the darker colors. You use hot water for the whites and—”

  “Hold on,” David says. “What was that about Nicholas trying to make you do his laundry? Is he bullying you? You shouldn’t have to share a room with a bully.” He grabs Ethan’s arm. “You have to tell me honestly right now, while we’re alone—”

  “Chloe’s here.”

  “She doesn’t count.”

  “Much appreciated,” I say.

  He gazes intently at his brother. “Tell me if you hate it here, Ethan. Because if you do, I’ll take you home right now.”

  “I could go home?”

  “Yes. Right now. If that’s what you want.”

  “But Dad said I couldn’t go home. So did Sammy. I cried at the beginning a lot and kept asking, but he said no.”

  “Oh, Ethan,” I say. “That sounds really scary.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Is it still as scary?”

  He hesitates, glancing sideways at David, whose face is taut with tension. “I’m not sure,” Ethan whispers.

  “You don’t have to decide now,” I say quickly, before David can speak. “Maybe you should stay for a little while longer and see how you feel? You can always come home another day if you decide that’s what you want.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Ethan says with relief. “It’s Saturday, and they always have french fries and milk shakes on Saturday nights.”

  “We can get you fries and milk shakes,” David says. “If that’s all that’s keeping you here.”

  I say, “Hey, Ethan, I need to talk to David out in the hallway for a second. Do you mind? We’ll be right back.”

  “Why?” Ethan asks.

  “Because he’s my boyfriend.”

  “Oh. You probably want to kiss.”

  “You’ll never know,” I say gaily. But I’m anything but cheerful once I’ve pulled David out of the room and far enough down the hallway so Ethan can’t hear us. “Stop it,” I say. “Just stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “You know what. You’re trying to make Ethan hate being here.”

  “Why the hell would I do that?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve been wondering
the same thing.”

  “You don’t know Ethan the way I do. He lets people push him around and take advantage of him. No one’s looking out for him here—”

  “Are you kidding me? Sammy’s amazing—​he’s totally on top of everything. And people here seem really happy—​including Ethan. Or at least he was, until you started messing with his mind.”

  “I wasn’t messing with his mind!” David shouts. It’s a good thing the dorm is empty right now. “I was just asking him questions and getting at the truth—​which is that a lot of things here suck!”

  “A lot of things? Like what? That he’s on the top bunk? He didn’t even care about that until you made a big deal out of it. And, by the way, someone has to take the top bunk, David. That’s how bunk beds work.”

  “It shouldn’t have to be Ethan!”

  I throw my arms up in the air, frustrated. “It has to be somebody! So why not Ethan? Especially since he only just got here and the other boys already had beds?”

  He turns away from me. “You’re wasting my time, and this is my only chance to see my brother. I wouldn’t have brought you if I’d known you were going to drag me away from him and second-guess me. If you don’t stop being such a pain—”

  “Then what?” I step around so I can get in his face. “Then what? You going to break up with me? Tell me you wish I hadn’t come with you today? What are you going to do if I don’t agree with every single thing you say and do? Be nasty until you win and I lose?”

  There’s a tense moment while we stand eye to eye, glaring at each other.

  He breaks first. He closes his eyes briefly, takes a step back and puts his hands up. “I’m sorry.”

  I’m not ready to relent. “You should be.”

  “I know. Just . . . this is all hard for me. I’m worried. Imagine how you’d feel if it were Ivy.”

  “If I hadn’t been doing that all along, I’d have ditched you an hour ago.”

  That wins me a begrudging smile.

  “Come on,” he says, flicking his chin toward Ethan’s room. “Let’s go back.”

  “Promise you’ll stop trying to make everything seem bad?”

  “If you’ll promise to forgive me for being a jerk.”