“Really?” I say. “You’d do that?” Has he gone crazy? Have I?
“She might listen to me. We have parallel situations. I know exactly what it’s like to be the stepparent of a kid who—” He glances at Ivy and doesn’t finish his sentence. “Anyway, maybe she’d listen to me if I said I understand where she’s coming from but I really think she should reconsider her decision. If you give me her phone number—?although maybe it would be better to go in person?” He appeals to Mom. “Do you think she’d be more likely to listen if I went to their house?”
“Maybe,” she says. “But—”
He cuts her off. “I say let’s do it. What have we got to lose?”
“Really?” I’m stunned. “You’d really do that?”
“Of course,” Ron says, and does that peacocky thing to try to impress us, stretching up his neck and rounding his shoulders with his musculature.
“Cool,” I say. “Let’s go.”
Less than an hour later, we’re all in the car heading to the Fieldses’ house.
I don’t know if we’ll actually be able to help at all, but I’m glad we’re doing something to try.
Ivy wanted to come with us. I’m not sure she completely understands what kind of a visit this is going to be, just that we’re all going over to Ethan’s house to talk about him, and she doesn’t want to be left out.
“I go to school with Ethan,” she pointed out when we were getting ready to leave. “He’s my friend. So I should be there.”
I let Mom and Ron lead the way up the stone path to their front door. It’s oddly comforting to follow them and for once not have to be the one in charge.
Mr. Fields answers the door and responds to my mother’s cheery “Hello!” by silently pointing to the NO SOLICITORS sign.
Seriously?
I step forward before he can shut the door on us. “Hey, Mr. Fields, remember me? We met the other day. I’m David’s friend, and my sister goes to school with Ethan.”
“And we’re their parents.” Mom holds out her hand. “I’m Jeannie, and this is my husband, Ron.”
“Nice to meet you.” Mr. Fields shakes their hands. “Forgive me—?I didn’t know you were coming. No one tells me anything around here.” He turns his head and shouts down the hallway. “Margot? We have guests.”
She comes out of the dining room, a cloth napkin balled in her hand. “Guests?”
David’s behind her. His eyes open wide with surprise when he sees us all filing in.
“So sorry to just drop in like this,” my mother says.
Mrs. Fields eyes her warily. “I’m afraid I’m confused?. . .”
Mom explains who we are again, and recognition dawns on Mrs. Fields’s face. “Oh, yes, I remember you girls,” she says. “I believe you had something to do with our scare this week.”
“I’m really sorry,” I say. “I feel terrible about that.”
“To be fair to you, Ethan was supposed to be under his brother’s supervision at the time.” She glares accusingly at David. “But the good news is that Ethan is safely upstairs right now, and this whole awful incident has helped us make some difficult decisions.” She turns back to Mom and Ron with a brittle smile. “So . . . to what do we owe the honor of this visit?”
“Actually,” Ron says, “we’re here to talk about those difficult decisions you just mentioned.”
She blinks rapidly. “I’m sorry?”
“Maybe we could all sit down?” And, with a flick of his fingers through his dyed hair, Ron marches right into their living room. His unwarranted self-confidence is actually kind of useful right now.
Mrs. Fields watches him go, gestures at her husband to follow Ron, then runs back into the dining room.
David comes over and whispers to me, “What the hell’s going on?”
“We’re here to help. If we can.”
“Ethan’s my friend,” Ivy says. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Where is he?” I ask David.
“Margot’s been making him stay in his room when he’s not at school. She said we can’t take any chances on him running away again.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah—?although I think he kind of likes it. He gets to be on the computer all the time. His favorite thing.”
Mrs. Fields emerges with the baby in her arms, and we follow her to the living room, where Ron and Mom have planted themselves side by side on the sofa. The Fieldses exchange slightly pained looks, but it’s clear their guests aren’t leaving anytime soon, so they sit down too—?Mister on an armchair, Missus settling herself on a chair with the baby on her lap. There’s some mushy stuff on his face again.
“That’s probably not throw-up,” Ivy whispers to me. “It looks like it could be, but it’s probably not, right?”
“Definitely not. It looks like mashed carrots.”
Ivy retches a tiny bit, but quietly enough that I’m the only one who hears.
“All right,” Mrs. Fields says, while David, Ivy, and I find places to stand behind the sofa. “So what have you come to say?”
Mom speaks. “So my girls tell me that Ethan is being sent away from home? They’re a little concerned about it, and we thought maybe we could learn more about your thought process.”
Mrs. Fields says, “I don’t understand why this would be any business of yours. I’ve never even met you before.”
“Our kids are so close,” Mom says. “My girls just adore your boys.”
“Adore?” David repeats skeptically in my ear.
“Her word, not mine,” I whisper. But then I grin at him. He misses it—?he’s back to watching the conversation.