“We’ll still hang out.”
“Will we? You sure you won’t feel like there are better ways to spend your time?”
“I’m not sure there are.”
“Wow,” he says. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“I believe that. You don’t exactly bring out people’s softer side.”
“I know.”
“Still—” I say, and stop.
“What?”
I don’t know how to put it in words. I only know that I like being alone with David in this hallway and that something about this moment seems filled with possibility and hope. “If you want to hang out, I’m totally up for it,” I say finally.
He waits a moment, but when I don’t say anything else, he says, “Sounds good,” and his light, almost indifferent tone makes everything normal again. Which is both a relief and a loss.
“That’s the bathroom,” I say, gesturing at the door.
He knocks. “Ethan? You okay in there?”
There’s no response.
David bangs on the door more loudly. “Ethan? Hello?”
Nothing.
He turns the doorknob. “It’s not locked.” He raises his voice. “Ethan? I’m coming in. Say something if you don’t want me to.” There’s no response, so he opens the door slowly and peers around it. Then he shoves it completely open. “He’s not in here.”
“Oops—?sorry! It’s the closest one, but he must have gone upstairs.” We retreat and go up to the second floor. Ethan’s not in the hallway bathroom. “He must be in my mom’s.”
“This way?” David races ahead toward the master bedroom. As soon as we enter, we can see that their bathroom is empty. “Shit,” he says.
“He’s got to be around here somewhere.”
We run around the house, calling Ethan’s name, but there’s no answer. When I’m in the kitchen, Ivy asks what’s going on, and I tell her. She just shrugs, unconcerned.
“Is there a back way out of the house?” David asks me when we meet up in the hallway.
“Yeah, but it only goes to the yard—”
“Show me.”
The back door is unlocked. We go outside and call some more. That’s when we both notice: The side gate is wide open.
Twenty-Nine
WE GO BACK INSIDE and into the kitchen.
“How long ago did he say he was going to the bathroom?” David asks.
“It’s been a while.”
“Twenty-seven minutes,” says Ivy.
“Jesus Christ!” David says to me. “Twenty-seven minutes? Why didn’t you check on him sooner? No one goes to the bathroom for that long.”
“Sometimes people do,” Ivy says.
“I didn’t really think about it,” I say. “I’m sorry. I should have checked.” The truth was, I’d been relieved to have Ethan out of the room because I was feeling so guilty about everything. I was in no rush for him to return.
“I should have come in with him. I just—” David stops and shakes his head. “I was an idiot.” He moves toward the doorway. “I’m going to drive around and look for him. If he texts either of you or shows up, let me know immediately, and don’t let him out of your sight again.” He disappears into the hallway and the front door slams a second later.
“David was upset,” Ivy says.
“Yeah. He’s worried about Ethan.”
“It’ll be okay,” she says, and I’m just about to snap at her that that’s a ridiculous thing to say and she doesn’t know that at all, and then I remember that it’s what she hears from us all the time when she’s worried—?“it will be okay; everything will be okay”—?so why wouldn’t she parrot it back at me when I’m more worried than she is?
I try Ethan’s phone number again and again, every ten minutes for the next couple of hours. No response. And no news from David.
When Mom and Ron come home, Mom takes one look at me and says, “What’s wrong?”
Ivy says, “Ethan came over and went to the bathroom and didn’t come back, and his brother couldn’t find him.”
Not surprisingly, Mom’s confused. “He couldn’t find him in the bathroom?”
“He wasn’t in the bathroom,” I say. “He snuck out of the house. He runs away when he gets upset.”
“Where does he go?”
“If they knew that, it wouldn’t be running away, would it?” I know it’s not fair to get snarky with her, but I need an outlet for all my pent-up anxiety. It’s awful waiting and not being able to do anything about the situation.
“So they haven’t found him yet?”
“Not as far as we know.” I instinctively check my cell phone for the millionth time, even though I have it on vibrate and the volume is way up high, so there’s no way I’d miss a text.
“Do you want us to help look for him?” Ron asks.
I’m surprised—?I’d have expected Ron to be all not our problem about this. “Let me ask David.” I send a text: should we drive around too?
He writes back: Can’t hurt. Maybe by ocean—?he likes it there like, Pali Park
Mom and I head out, leaving Ron and Ivy to wait in the house just in case Ethan comes back or is hiding somewhere on our property. Ron says he’ll have dinner waiting for us when we return.
Mom drives while I peer out my open window, scanning the sidewalks and grass. Ethan was wearing a white shirt and jeans, so every time I see that combination on a skinny young man—?or a couple of times on a girl with short hair—?my hope rises, only to be crushed when I get a closer look.
I feel sick inside, scared for Ethan, sad for David, angry at myself for letting this happen.
I can’t stop thinking about how vulnerable Ethan is—?how childlike in so many ways. But other people won’t look at him and think that. They’ll see a young man—?and an odd one, at that—?so no one’s going to go up to him and offer to help, the way they would if a little kid was lost. Anything could happen to him. Anything.