The world is such a mean and big and judgmental place. And Ethan, like Ivy, has no guile, no social awareness, no ability to see beyond what people say to what they may be thinking or scheming. Which makes him an easy target.
And Ivy too. She’s safe at home right now. But that can’t always be true. There are going to be times when she has to be out on her own. She can’t just hide at home for the rest of her life, because that’s not a life. But being out in the world is dangerous for someone like her, because . . . people.
I want to protect Ivy and Ethan, and I also want them to be independent, and right now it feels like those two things can’t coexist, and I feel hopeless.
The sun is setting, and it’s getting harder and harder to see clearly.
“Not him?” Mom says when I curse after about the fifteenth disappointment.
“Yeah, it was, but I didn’t want to bother you by mentioning it.”
“Sorry,” she says humbly. “That was a stupid question.”
I feel bad. “No, that was mean of me. Sorry. I’m just so worried.”
“They’ll find him eventually. And he’s not a toddler—?he can take care of himself.”
“Up to a point.”
“Up to a point.”
I say slowly, “How do you think Ivy would do if she were out there on her own?”
“I was thinking about that too. I’m grateful she isn’t the running-away type.”
“Yeah. She never even wants to go out without us. But that could change, right? What if she starts wanting to do stuff by herself? She told Diana she’s going to learn to drive—”
“I don’t see that happening,” Mom says. “I mean, that’s terrifying.”
“But she said it. So she likes the idea of it. She needs to get better at doing stuff, Mom—?like buying things and finding her way around and dealing with strangers. If she doesn’t . . .”
“Don’t. Please, Chloe. I can’t think about that right now. I’m stressed enough already.”
I spot another pair of jeans with a white shirt on the sidewalk. Another Not-Ethan.
We’re both silent for a moment.
Mom brakes at a red light. “Should I turn on Pico or stay by the ocean?”
“Let’s just head home—?I can’t see anything anymore anyway.” I check my phone. I’d kill for a simple Found him. But there’s nothing.
I finally get a text from David around eight, an hour after I excused myself from a dinner of microwaved vegetable lasagna that I couldn’t even pretend to eat.
Dad and M found out, just called the police
you okay?
No response.
I throw my phone down on my bed with a loud curse.
“What’s wrong?” Ivy asks.
“I’m worried about Ethan.”
“He’ll be fine. He’s eighteen. That’s old enough to vote.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Yes, I do!”
“You don’t even understand what you don’t understand.”
She’s silent. I glance over at her. Her lip is thrust out, and her brows are drawn together.
“I’m sorry,” I say wearily. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just really stressed right now.”
“You think you’re so much smarter than me.”
“I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. You’re my little sister, you know. You’re younger than I am by forty-three months.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to text Diana. I’d rather talk to her.”
“You do that.”
She curls up again with her iPad, and I hear her tip-tapping on it.
I could use someone to talk to too—?I feel like I’m losing my mind with all this waiting. But James and I are broken up, and if I call her, Sarah will want to talk about that, and Mom comes as a package deal with Ron.
I stare at my phone. Text me, I order David silently.
My phone stays dark and quiet.
So much for telepathic communication.
After another half an hour of staring uncomprehendingly at words on a page, pretending to do homework, I finally break down and text him again.
please tell me they found him
Nothing.
I stay up until one without hearing anything else from David. Even after I go to bed, I keep picturing Ethan out in the dark, scared and hungry and alone—?or worse, cornered by brutal faceless people who want to hurt him. What ability does he have to defend himself against anything threatening? To navigate a city’s streets alone? He can’t even deal with a chili pepper.
I doze off finally but then wake up an hour later, my heart pounding, terrified that something’s wrong with Ivy, who—?I sit up and check—?is snoring peacefully in her bed. Why am I worried about her? She’s not the one who’s wandering the streets alone.
And then I realize I was dreaming about her, only I can’t remember any details, just that something very bad was happening to her and I couldn’t stop it, and even though the dream has vanished, I can’t get rid of the sick fear it left in its wake.
No more texts when I get up the next morning, and no David in school that day, either. I’m desperate for information. I can’t sit still. I feel like a million tiny bugs are crawling all over my skin, and it’s hard to breathe. I have no idea what anyone’s saying in any of my classes, and I can’t focus on the quiz I have to take in AP bio. Not that I care. School seems meaningless today.
What if they never find Ethan? What if he’s been beaten up? Or locked up in some maniac’s shed? Or killed?
There are too many awful possibilities, and the longer he’s gone, the more the worst seems possible.
At lunch, I sit with a bunch of kids, who talk about how hard the quiz was, like getting As in school actually matters. I barely pay attention, just keep checking my phone to make sure I haven’t missed a text.
When we walk out of the cafeteria, Sarah says, “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just some stuff going on at home.” I don’t think I should tell her about Ethan. David probably doesn’t want people to know—?he’s a pretty private guy. And I don’t want anyone pestering him for information. Except me, of course.
“Is that why you were ignoring James?”
“I wasn’t.” James was at the same table, but we were sitting far apart and couldn’t really talk.
“He kept trying to say hi to you, and you totally ignored him.”