The movie we want to see is sold out, so James buys us tickets to our second choice, which turns out to be about as good as you’d expect a second choice movie to be.
We split up to use the bathroom before heading out into the mall to grab some dinner. I check my texts while I’m waiting for an empty stall and see one from a number I don’t recognize.
Ethan wants another date with your sister. He’s texting her but wanted me to text you too I’m almost at the front of the line, so I quickly write back I’ll check with Ivy when I get home and leave it at that. I’m glad Ethan’s eager to see Ivy again. I just hope she’s as enthusiastic about seeing him.
“Again?” she says when I bring it up the next morning. “We just had frozen yogurt.”
“I know. He must have had a lot of fun. We’re probably talking next weekend anyway—?so it’s not right away.”
“You have to drive me and stay again. I don’t want to go alone.”
I’m just glad she wants to go at all, so I promise to chauffeur and hover over her as she and Ethan text back and forth for a while. I check her texts before she sends them to make sure she doesn’t say something super rude or awkward.
I’m very happy, he writes, when they finally settle on going bowling that Saturday.
“He’s so sweet,” I say.
“Is James sweet?”
“Totally.”
“Is that why you like him?”
“That and his enormous biceps.”
Her brow furrows. “His arm muscles?”
“Yeah. I like the way they look. And feel.”
“I don’t want to touch Ethan’s biceps,” she says, her eyes flickering about the room in sudden panic.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re not up to the biceps-touching part of the relationship yet. And by the time you are, you may be more into the idea.”
She just shakes her head.
Well, Mom definitely doesn’t need to be worried about Ivy’s rushing into having casual sex. Right now that seems about as likely as her landing the starring role in Channing Tatum’s next romantic comedy.
I wish I could ask David if Ethan’s equally nervous about the physical stuff, but I don’t feel comfortable doing that.
Why couldn’t Ethan’s brother be someone I could talk to? I feel so alone in this.
In Camp’s class on Monday, David briefly looks up from his laptop as I walk past him, and we nod at each other. Even that tiny acknowledgment of each other’s existence feels weird.
Camp assigns a paper for Friday, and at lunch we all complain that it’s way too much work.
“Maybe Camp’s really evil,” Sarah says. “Maybe this whole I love teaching kids is a cover for her sadism.”
“She probably has a dungeon in her house,” Jacob Gordon says. “With all sorts of sick tortures and handcuffs and shit.”
“Yeah, and that’s why she wears skirts with those big pockets,” Sarah says with a giggle. “She keeps cattle prods and Tasers in there.”
“I bet she has leather versions of those skirts for when she’s working in the dungeon,” he says.
“Yeah, that’s sexy,” James says. “Big shapeless skirts made out of leather.”
“Look who’s getting turned on thinking about the Campster,” Jacob says.
“Right,” James says. “That lady is hot.”
“Get in line,” Jacob says. “Those saggy boobs are all mine.”
They laugh, but I don’t. They’re being too mean. Camp’s a good teacher, and she’s always nice to us. And there’s something innocent and vulnerable about her that makes me want to protect her. Something almost Ivy-like.
I don’t say anything, though. Just eat my lunch and wait for them to talk about something else.
Twelve
THE DAY BEFORE Ethan and Ivy’s date, I get nervous about the fact it’s at a bowling alley—? Ivy doesn’t do well with loud noises.
“Have you ever been to one before?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”
I’ve been a bunch of times, but it was always for other kids’ birthday parties. Ivy doesn’t go to a lot of parties. Or any, really. I explain how noisy they can get with all the crashing pins and all. “You going to be okay with that?” I ask her.
“I don’t know,” she says. “Should I tell Ethan I don’t want to go?”
“Wait—?I have an idea.” I find some videos online of people bowling, and I play them for her, increasing the volume with each one until it’s as loud as I can make it. It’s still not as loud as the real thing, but at least it gives her a sense of the kind of noise she’ll be dealing with.
She doesn’t mind watching the videos and, in fact, looks for more on her own and plays them at top volume in our room until Ron yells from the master bedroom that he can’t hear himself think.
Then she puts on her headphones and listens to them some more.
The desensitization actually works. As soon as we walk inside the bowling alley, the noise is pretty intense. Ivy winces and her hands float up toward her ears, but then they pause and drop down at her sides again.
“Bowling alleys are always noisy,” she informs me. “But it’s okay. It’s just the ball hitting the pins.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I don’t like the noise, but I can live with it.”
“Me too,” she says.
The guys are waiting for us at the front desk. Ethan comes forward eagerly and reaches toward Ivy. I’m not sure what he’s going for—?hug? Handshake? Kiss? It doesn’t matter: Ivy ducks away, and his hand lands on her arm, which he pats awkwardly.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” she says. “I don’t know how to do bowling.”
I should have told her before that you don’t “do” bowling. I just assumed she knew.
“That’s okay,” Ethan says. “I can teach you. I’m good at it.”
David says, “We already got a lane. You guys just need to get your shoes.”
“Are we bowling too?” I ask him.
“Might as well. We’re stuck here, right? Or are you leaving?”