Chapter 13. Ethan
Friday, and I'm exactly three pages into my neuroanatomy reading when Marsal busts through the door, one hand pressed tight against the other, face in pain.
My stomach drops. Anyone else, I wouldn't care.
"What the fuck did you do now?" I hear how angry I sound. He's hurt, but I can’t help it. He makes me worried, even if I don’t want to. I need to ease up.
He tries to play it off. "Hey, Ethan," he says, voice a little higher than normal. "Don't freak out or anything, but I think I might have turned my hand into barbecue. They told me to go to the nurse's, but I came here instead."
He pulls his palm away from his sleeve, and even from across the room I see the angry red smear. Christ. The skin is starting to blister at the heel of his hand, right where the thumb meets the pad.
"What the hell did you do?" I run my hand over my face.
He shrugs, gives a half-smirk. "Lu told me to take the tray out, and I forgot it's basically a miniature sun. Didn't even scream. Promise."
"You're an idiot. Let me see."
He holds it out, not flinching, not looking at me. I take his wrist and angle the hand into the light. The burn isn't deep, but it's wide and fresh.
"Sit," I say, getting him to the edge of his bunk. I dig the first aid kit from the cubby under my bed. A privilege of being a leader. "We have to clean it. Why didn't you go to the nurse's room?"
"Not a fan of that part," he says, and I can tell it's true. He goes pale, then pink, then back to normal in about three seconds. "I thought you could help me better," he says. Quiet.
I don't say anything.
I pop the alcohol wipe. He pulls his hand away.
"We can skip the medieval torture part, right?"
"Nope," I say, and catch his hand again. This time, he lets me. I swab gently. He makes a show of wincing, but he doesn't let go.
"You should be more careful," I say, dabbing ointment over the red. "It pisses me off when you're hurt."
"I should be a lot of things," he says. "And you do really care about me, don't you?"
"You're my responsibility, idiot."
He's quiet. Those eyes still on me. He's almost pouting, and I have to look away before I do something stupid.
I wrap the gauze slowly. He flexes his hand, and when he does, I have to adjust the wrap, my fingers brushing over his knuckles. His pulse is fast under the skin. I think he notices. Neither of us says anything.
"There," I say, letting go. "Don't touch anything with it for twenty-four hours."
He looks at the bandage, flexes his hand again. "Nice work, doc. You want me to start calling you Dr. Ethan?"
"Call me that, and I'll spank you."
He laughs. I bite back a smile.
"Dr. Ethan," he teases. I huff. I'd love to do more than spank him. I pack up the kit instead.
He leans back on the bed, hand propped up. "You know, I never had anyone take care of me before." The words slip out so quiet, I'm not sure he means to say them at all.
I nod. "Get used to it. If you keep making messes, I'm going to keep having to clean up after you."
I need to stop. But I don't.
I shove the first aid kit back under the bed and go back to my reading. The words blur together. All I can think about is the way Liam looks at me. He came to me instead of the nurses.
Idiot.
■
After Quiet Time, we’re outside. I stand with my back against the courtyard wall. Liam sits alone under the oak tree, picking at the wrapper of his protein bar rather than eating it. My jaw tightens. He's going to need that energy for MMA later.
I'm about to go tell him off, but the sun disappears behind dark clouds.
I've been watching the sky for the past half hour.
Storm warnings were issued this morning, but administration decided outdoor time would proceed as scheduled.
Thank God, because it sucks when they lock us in the gym or rec room.
This many punks locked together never ends well.
The wind picks up, rustling through the leaves above Liam's head. He doesn't notice, too busy with whatever's going on in that head of his. It doesn't happen often, Liam being quiet. I suspect he doesn't have enough thoughts for it to happen often. But it happens.
Jack approaches, dropping down beside him with that easy smile. I relax slightly. Jack has a way of pulling people out of darker moods. While Liam is a stray puppy, Jack is a golden retriever. Their conversation is too far to hear, but I notice Liam laughing. Like nothing happened.
A fat raindrop lands on me. Then another. I look up just as it starts.
In less than thirty seconds, it's not raining. It's raining.
The reaction is immediate: fifty-some bodies get to their feet, rushing for shelter. Some kids hold papers above their heads, others pull sweatshirts up as makeshift hoods. The rain intensifies to a proper downpour.
That's when I notice them. While the last kids dash for the doors, Jack isn't sitting anymore. He's standing in the open space beyond the tree's canopy, facing the sky, arms spread wide, laughing like the madman he is.
Beside him is Liam.
"Hey!" I shout over the rainfall. "Jack, Liam! Inside, now!"
Neither acknowledges me. Jack says something to Liam that makes him laugh, then spins in a circle, arms extended.
Miles appears at my side. Silent, as always. He doesn't rush for the doors, just stands beside me under the overhang, observing.
"They're going to catch pneumonia," I say, not expecting a response. He smiles. Faintly. That's enough.
"Last warning!" My voice competes with the storm. "Get inside! Now!"
Jack turns toward me, rain streaming down his face, black t-shirt drenched and clinging to him. The Batman tattoo on his neck glistens with water.
"Come on, Mr. Leader!" he shouts back, grinning.
I should march over there, grab both of them by their soaked collars, and drag them inside.
"You're setting a poor example, Jack," I say, stepping forward. The rain plasters my hair to my forehead instantly. I have to blink water from my eyes.
"For once in your life, break a stupid rule," Liam calls out.
Miles has a smile on his face. That never happens. "They'll come in when they're ready," he says. "Or when they're forced to."
I look at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He shrugs. "They'll make you go get them. You know it."
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. Check my watch, the face fogging with moisture. "They have exactly thirty seconds before I go get them," I announce, loud enough for them to hear.
Jack responds by dropping to his back and making what I can only describe as a rain angel in a forming puddle. Liam watches for a moment, then follows, falling backward with an audible splash, laughing. I count down the seconds, trying to ignore the feeling in my chest.
"Time's up."
I cross the courtyard, water streaming down my face, shirt pasted to my skin. The rain is almost horizontal. I'm halfway to the tree when they bolt: up and sprinting, mud splattering everywhere as they circle the tree, laughing so hard I can hear it over the storm.
I start jogging. The things these fuckers make me do. They split around the trunk, playing keep-away.
"Real mature!" I call out. They laugh.
Three laps before I cut off their escape. I grab Jack by the upper arm, but Liam slips past, wild grin on his face.
"Jack. Liam. Inside," I bark. "We're going to get in trouble."
"Bet you can't catch him," Jack says. "Go, Liam, go!"
I let go of Jack and go after Liam. He's fast, years of running from trouble, but I'm taller and faster. When I catch him, I clamp a hand around his upper arm and hold him to my chest.
"Do you ever listen, you little fucker?" I’m breathless.
He shakes his head. "Rarely." He’s shivering, but his eyes are bright.
Then, we hear, loud and clear:
"What in God's name is going on out here?"
Bill. One of the few guards most kids actually like. Standing in the doorway, his uniform darkening with raindrops as he steps partially outside. Receding black hair going gray, round stomach, big mustache. He's been good to me since day one.
"Perry and Marsal refused to come inside," I explain.
"Hey! Don't blame it on us," Jack says, laughing.
"Yeah, Mr. Leader, you were also playing in the rain," Liam says.
"I was not. I was trying to get you." Even I can hear how weak that sounds.
Bill surveys the scene. Sighs, but smiles. "You boys got about thirty seconds of fun left before I have to write this up. Make it count."
I stare at him. He looks amused, probably clocking my expression. "Sometimes you gotta let the small stuff slide, kid. You boys face enough hard edges in this place."
Before I can respond, Jack lets out a whoop and grabs Liam's hand, pulling him into a spinning, slipping dance through the puddles. Two kids, holding hands, jumping in puddles. I step back under the overhang, already soaked, doesn't matter anymore.
Miles stands beside me. He looks at me. "You could join them."
"You could too."
"Nah," he says.
"Come on, Ethan, live a little!" Liam shouts, and he sounds like a puppy begging for attention.
I sigh. Then, step forward. Then another step. I know I'm lying when I tell myself I don't want this.
The rain pounds against me.
Jack notices first, his spinning slowing. He makes a shocked face. I roll my eyes. It’s not that shocking. Liam follows his gaze. His expression is ridiculous with happiness.
I stop a few feet away, rain streaming down my face.
"Well?" Jack challenges, water dripping from his chin. "You gonna drag us in or what?"
"I should." Instead, I kick my foot sideways, sending a spray of water toward them both.
Jack laughs, stomps into a puddle, sends water back at me. I don't dodge it. The cold splash hits, and I laugh. Liam stares at me like I've grown a second head.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Breaking a stupid rule," I say.
Jack starts a game of tag. Liam joins, laughing loud. I move without thinking, the rain soaking through to my skin, my own laughter in my ears. I can't remember the last time I laughed like this.
"Alright, that's enough!" Bill's voice cuts through. "Inside, all of you, before I change my mind about those write-ups!"
We stall, not wanting it to end.
"Now, boys," Bill says. Firm, but with those kind eyes.
Jack shakes his head like a dog, spraying water everywhere. Liam's hair is plastered to his forehead, blue eyes bright. He smiles at me. Just with his eyes. Miles is already inside, standing in the doorway.
"Get toweled off and change," Bill instructs. "If anyone asks, you got caught in the downpour while helping secure outdoor equipment. Understood?"
"Thank you, sir," I murmur as I pass him.
"Everyone needs a minute of freedom now and then," he says.
As we move down the hallway, leaving puddles behind us, I catch Liam watching me.
"Who'd have thought you could be so much fun?" he says.
"Don't get used to it," I answer. It doesn't sound convincing. I don't try to make it.