Chapter Seven

 

CARTER sat at a corner table in Pepper’s, tucked as far out of sight as he could be. He’d started coming in near the end of Ethan’s shift and driving him home, and gradually came in earlier and earlier with his work. Vera had his order memorized, but if the line was short she made him say it. Today, the line was long, so she just handed it to him. He stammered out a thank you and gave her his payment. With most people, if he spent enough time around them he could speak without too much trouble because he got comfortable enough to allow his full body tics to replace his stuttering tic, but that hadn’t kicked in with Vera. Maybe it was because he was always aware of strangers behind him in the line. She acted as though she didn’t notice.

After Ethan’s shift ended, Carter was supposed to drive him to the high school to watch Elliot in a Scholar Bowl meet. Carter had brought a book with him in case it was as boring as he anticipated. The coffee shop was packed. Every five minutes, Andy emerged from behind the counter to usher dawdling patrons out. He did this by placing his hands on his skinny hips and standing next to the table to stare them down until they got the hint and left. If that didn’t work, he bellowed, “Move it or lose it” or, in one case, flapped his arms like he was shooing birds off the beach.

Ethan smiled at Carter the few times he had a spare moment to remember that Carter was there, but mostly he rushed back and forth with his cart, carrying beverages and wiping down tables. On the other side of the shop, a pair of men who’d been there when Carter came in still sat. They nursed their mugs, so maybe that was why Andy hadn’t kicked them out. Carter exercised the same trick, as he had no faith that his position as Ethan’s ride would protect him from Andy’s rule. (Carter regretted introducing himself to Andy using those words the moment the flash of interest appeared on Andy’s thin face.)

The two men, one in a hood and the other blond and clean-cut, stopped Ethan a few times to chat. The blond one touched Ethan’s elbow and smiled in a way that made Carter’s stomach roil. He concentrated on his cold coffee. He had no right to be jealous if someone chose to flirt with Ethan. Once, Ethan laughed, and Carter set his mug down so hard liquid sloshed out. He mopped it up with a napkin. Glancing over, he saw the hooded man had slumped lower in his chair, as if he resented the flirting as well. Ethan appeared accustomed to the blond touching him. He didn’t react at all when the man slid his fingers up Ethan’s arm in a movement that was too similar to a caress for Carter’s liking. Carter emptied his mug down his throat so the tart liquid could drown the sound he wanted to make. Beneath the table, his foot pounded out his frustration—another sound lost in the hive of conversation and clinking mugs around him.

Ethan finally left them to tend to another table. Carter almost wished he’d left the spill so he’d have an excuse for Ethan to come over. He didn’t like to interrupt Ethan while he worked though. This job was important to him. He’d worked here for three years, following a run of less successful endeavors where no one had had patience with him. Carter had gained bits and pieces of Ethan’s history as Vera and Andy became more comfortable with telling him. Vera had been in high school with Ethan. “We all thought he’d be on Broadway,” she’d told Carter one time, her voice matter-of-fact, when Ethan was out of earshot. Maybe this was why Carter was still tongue-tied around her. She had a full history with Ethan, a virile protectiveness of him, and it only showed on her face when Ethan wasn’t looking. That theory fell flat when he thought of Ethan’s parents being the same way. He had almost no problems talking around them.

“How come you always order the same thing?” Carter looked up to find Ethan standing next to him, pointing at his decaf café au lait and banana bread slice. “There’s lots of great stuff here.”

“It’s a Tourette’s thing.” Carter pulled his cup closer, not wanting to look up. “When I have a lot of options, I get overwhelmed, like I want to cry or get angry, so I stick with the same thing.”

Ethan crouched down to get into Carter’s sight line. He looked sad; of course Ethan would understand what getting overwhelmed by emotion was like. Carter smiled as he succumbed to a rush of affection for him. “I’ll order you something else if you want,” Ethan said. “I won’t even tell you and it will be a surprise. Does that sound good?”

Carter leaned in and touched his forehead to Ethan’s. “That sounds great.”

“Good.” Beaming, Ethan stood up. “I’m done. Will we be late?”

Carter checked his watch. “No, we’re doing fine.”

“Good.” Ethan wiped his hands on his apron. “I’m glad you stayed today. Did you get a lot of work done?”

“Three songs,” Carter said. He pushed his papers into his bag. He should have finished five, but he’d been distracted—first simply by Ethan’s appearance, the seamless, cautious way he moved, and then by his interaction with the other men. He followed Ethan into the back. It was a cramped area where wooden crates stamped with various flavors of coffee were stacked on metal shelves. A few empty crates lay on the floor turned on their sides. Someone, probably Andy, had scrubbed the floor tiles to a shine. Looking everywhere except where he was going, Carter almost bumped into a rolling shelving system that had baking sheets on it; apple danishes filled the top two layers.

“Excuse me.” Vera popped out from behind it, pushing it into the large refrigeration room.

“Suh-sorry.”

She pushed it into place and closed the door. “Goodnight, guys.”

“Night,” Carter said. Ethan echoed him. Vera returned to the front of the store. In his peripheral vision, Carter saw something dropping off a shelf. He turned for a better look. A flash of gray disappeared beneath the shelving unit.

“I think you’ve got a rat.”

“That’s Pepper.” Ethan hung up his apron. “She’s a cat.”

“A cat?” Carter bent. Two yellow eyes watched him from the darkness under the shelves. He clicked at it with his tongue. It continued to stare. “Pepper? As in Pepper’s Cafe?” Carter turned back to Ethan.

“Yep.”

“Huh.” He glanced toward the cat’s hiding place. “Rich kitty.”

“She keeps the mice out, and if you’re really quiet, sometimes you can pet her.” Heading for the exit, Ethan said, “Let’s go. Can’t be late or Elliot gets angry.”

“When isn’t he angry?” Carter muttered, but he hurried after Ethan anyway.

In an attempt to be nonchalant—not that Ethan would notice—Carter didn’t ask about the men until he and Ethan were buckled into the car.

“Oh, that’s Mike and Douglas,” Ethan said.

Carter waited; no information followed. “And you know them from the coffee shop?”

“Yeah.” Ethan plucked a loose strand on his jeans.

“Ethan?”

“Douglas doesn’t like me.”

“Oh.”

“Mike wants me to go out with them, but Douglas said, ‘Why would Mike ask me?’.”

“Oh.” Carter reached over and squeezed Ethan’s shoulder. He dropped his hand before Ethan squirmed away; Ethan didn’t like to be touched when he felt self-conscious. “You’ve got a lot of friends who do want to go out with you,” Carter said instead.

“Yeah.”

“Like me, for instance.”

“Yeah.” A little smile.

“And Andy. And Frankie. Horatio. Rolla. Jules.”

Ethan’s smile widened with each name. “Vera,” he said. “Sal. And Alice?”

“Alice.” Carter smiled.

Ethan stopped pulling the thread in his jeans. “Scholar Bowl is really boring.”

“I figured.” Carter squeezed the back of Ethan’s neck. Ethan didn’t pull away.

“But it’s important we be there for Elliot.”

Carter wondered if Ethan was quoting his parents. He supposed it didn’t matter, since Ethan had said it with sincerity. “You’re a good brother.” Carter let his fingers wander into Ethan’s thick mop of hair. It still amazed him how dark red it was, as if he’d caught fire and never stopped burning.

Ethan relaxed into the touch and sighed. “I know what I want our song to be about.”

“What?” Carter asked.

Ethan turned a sleepy smile to Carter. “Us.”

 

 

TO PLAY Scholar Bowl, five people sat at a table and five other people sat at a different table and a person at a third table asked questions and someone else at that table had a timer because you weren’t supposed to take more than fifteen seconds to answer. If you knew an answer, you pushed your buzzer.

The buzzer sounded like a carbon monoxide alarm.

Ethan pressed his hands tighter against his ears. After the third buzz, he’d left them there. The woman next to him moved down a chair because he bumped her with his elbows, but Carter stayed put on Ethan’s other side.

Ethan hated Scholar Bowl. Mom and Dad weren’t there yet and Ethan turned around every few seconds to check the door. Elliot kept looking too and wasn’t playing as well as he usually did. That meant he’d be angry later. Mom said it was because he was a teenager, but Ethan couldn’t remember being that angry ever. With Elliot, every moment was a step away from a slammed door.

“Ethan. Ethan.”

Ethan opened his eyes. Carter’s face was right in front of him, almost touching his nose. “What?”

“You’re humming.”

“Yes.” Ethan waited.

“Maybe you could stop?” Carter asked.

“I don’t like the buzzers.” Ethan clamped down on his ears in case Carter tried to pull his hands away.

Carter didn’t though. Instead, he said, “Do you want to leave?”

Ethan looked to the front of the room. The man who read the questions turned toward them. If Ethan left, who would cheer for Elliot? He recognized a few of Elliot’s friends, but that wasn’t the same as family. “I’m sorry,” he said, but quietly because he didn’t want everyone to hear. “I’m okay.”

“If we can proceed?” the question guy said.

Ethan nodded. Shoving his hands under his thighs, he braced himself for the first buzzer. Sitting beside Carter made him want music that was feather-light and funny, not the harsh blare the buzzer made. He scrunched his eyes and focused on closing his ears without touching them. He jumped when something touched his leg and then pressed down. Cracking one eye open, he saw Carter’s hand and relaxed. Carter’s foot bounced beside his. He made sounds with his mouth too, click-clock like the ones Dad used to make when he read hickory dickory dock the mouse ran up the clock to Ethan. Ethan hung onto those sounds.

The questions didn’t start again for a long time, so Ethan looked up, and saw the question guy talking to the timer guy and nodding. “Why aren’t they playing?” Ethan asked.

Carter shrugged and opened his mouth a little. Sometimes he couldn’t talk very well when he was clicking. He thought about words too, like Ethan did. It was easy to forget where they belonged in your mouth and on your tongue, or if they sat in the back of your throat or behind your teeth.

Ethan checked the door again. The meet was almost over and no sign of his parents. “Do you think Mom and Dad were in an accident?” he whispered.

“They’re probably just running late.” Carter squeezed Ethan’s knee. Ethan edged away. He didn’t like reassurance like this.

“They’re never late.”

Elliot watched the door too. He looked more worried than angry now. Ethan wanted to go hug him, but that wasn’t a good thing to do in front of all Elliot’s friends. Sometimes Mom talked to Ethan about how Elliot’s brain was still growing and that made him do stupid things and be mean. Mom talked about Elliot being on one side of a hill and having to climb it and once he reached the other side, his brain would be capable of adult things like logic.

She never talked about Ethan’s brain like that. Ethan wondered how far he’d made it up that hill before the accident sent him sliding back down. He had logic, too much of it, based on how often people got upset with him for being “inflexible,” but he didn’t know how to “apply it.” Apparently that was important too. Mom also never talked about whether he’d get a chance to climb again. He figured he wouldn’t. He wished Elliot would hurry up and get over his hill, though.

“Ethan.”

“What?” He hadn’t touched his ears or hummed. He thought, anyway.

Carter gestured toward the front with his head. One of the contestants had her hand in the air. Ethan stared. She gave an answer. Another question followed; this one part of a bonus round for the group. They worked together for thirty seconds and then the boy in the middle raised his hand. No one touched the buzzers. Ethan looked at Carter, who smiled really big and tapped his foot.

After that, the game was better.

Ethan’s parents came in a few questions later. Mom looked tired, but she gave him a kiss on his head as she sat down in the seat the woman from before had vacated. Dad sat next to Carter.

“You’re late,” Ethan said. “Elliot was worried.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Mom said.

Ethan wanted to ask more about it, but he made himself wait. After the meet ended Elliot came over. “What happened?” he asked, instead of saying “hello.”

“It’s your Aunt Amelia,” Mom said. “She’s taken a turn and they airlifted her to a hospital in LA a few hours ago. We need to go down there tonight. I’ve packed our bags—”

“I can’t go,” Elliot said. “I’ve got finals. I can’t just leave.” He pulled away from Dad’s hand on his shoulder. “Take Ethan.”

“I have to work.” Ethan had responsibilities too. He didn’t know Aunt Amelia well anyway. She was really old, Mom’s aunt, not his.

“Ethan, we can talk to Vera, I’m sure she’d—”

“I work hard.” Ethan swallowed the lump in his throat. He was good at his job and he took it seriously. He couldn’t leave just because of this. Who would wipe tables or do refills if he wasn’t there?

“They could stay with me.” Ethan looked up. He’d forgotten Carter was still there, but he was, right in the middle of everyone, although he’d been so quiet that maybe he was trying to disappear instead of being pulled into a family discussion. “I mean, if the problem is that you don’t want to leave them alone.”

“We’re fine alone.” Ethan couldn’t believe that he and Elliot spoke at the same time. They never did anything at the same time.

“I’m sure….” Carter tripped over words and went back to plucking his jeans over his knee, the same as Ethan did when he was nervous or upset.

“I don’t know.” Dad rubbed his hair, making it stand up. “We haven’t had any time to think about it. We just assumed, but of course you’re both right. It’s not fair to take Elliot out of school right now.”

“And I have to work,” Ethan said, in case he’d forgotten.

“Right. Carter would you excuse us for a moment?”

“Sure.” Carter didn’t glance at Ethan as he walked away. He looked shaky. Ethan didn’t have time to think about it before Elliot started in on how if they stayed at Carter’s place it wouldn’t be fair because he was too old for a babysitter.

“It might be fine for him,” he thumbed at Ethan, “but I don’t need a caretaker.”

“Carter is my friend,” Ethan said.

“Right.”

“He is.”

“Yeah? What’s he going to be tomorrow morning if he sleeps in the same house as you? He’s going to see what you’re like.”

“He knows what I’m like.” Elliot’s words made Ethan angry, and he wanted to cry. Elliot didn’t know anything about him and Carter. He looked at his parents. Dad rubbed his forehead. Maybe they agreed with Elliot. “He’s my friend,” he said again. “I want to stay here.”

“We did try calling Mrs. Monroe,” Mom said.

“Ugh.” Elliot frowned.

“She wasn’t available on short notice, which is why we decided to take you with us. But, maybe if you stayed with Carter a few days she could stay with you afterwards…?” She looked at Dad for his opinion.

“We can stay on our own,” Elliot said.

“No, you can’t,” Dad said, sounding more firm than before.

“You mean Ethan can’t,” Elliot said. “I could go stay with a friend.”

Ethan should have been used to Elliot’s daggers, but he still needed to close up the wound before he spoke. “I can stay with a friend too,” Ethan said. “I can stay with Carter. Or I can go out to the caravan and stay with Horatio.”

“You are not to go to the beach, do you understand?” Dad said. He looked so stern that Ethan nodded and shrank back a little. Dad sighed. “Elliot, I’m sorry, but we need you and Ethan to stay together. You know each other best. I think it would be easiest if you stayed at home. Carter can stay in our room. Hopefully we’ll be back by the weekend. Is that all right?”

“I guess. I don’t know what we’ll do after Ethan scares him off though.”

“I won’t.” Ethan wanted to sulk, or punch Elliot again, but punching wasn’t allowed and no one was patient with him when he pouted.

“Elliot.” Dad got up and took Elliot into a corner to talk to him.

“Elliot needs to get over that hill faster,” Ethan said.

Mom squeezed his shoulders. “Dad’s going to talk some sense into him.”

“Carter is my friend, Mom. He doesn’t babysit me like Elliot thinks. Right?” He waited for reassurance. “He doesn’t, does he?”

“Ethan?” Ethan turned around to see Carter standing in the doorway. “Did someone tell you I was babysitting you?”

Now that Carter looked hurt, Ethan felt bad for thinking it even a little. “Elliot,” he said. Then he felt bad for accusing him. Brothers were supposed to stick together.

Carter’s face went hard at that. He shoved his hand into his pocket, but his leg shook. “What do you need me to do?” he asked Mom.

“Would it be any trouble for you to stay at our house for a few nights?”

Carter glanced at Dad and Elliot, still talking in the corner. His expression didn’t change. “No problem. Happy to help.”

“Good. That’s a relief,” Mom said.

Relieved as well, Ethan got up and hugged Carter. Now he wouldn’t have to miss work. Ethan needed a hug after worrying about everything, and he guessed from the way Carter held onto him that Carter did too.