Chapter 7 - What Brandon Said
The written apology came four days later, handed to Ethan through Mr. Delgado's office in a sealed envelope with his name on the front in careful, slightly crooked handwriting.
Ethan read it alone in his room. Then he came down and put it on the counter.
"You can read it," he said.
Three paragraphs. The first was stiff and formal, the kind of sentences a parent helps a teenager build. The second was better — it named actual things Brandon had done, specific ones, which meant somebody had made him stop being vague.
The third paragraph was short. A few lines. But those were his. The grammar wobbled and the pen dug harder into the paper.
I didn't think about how it felt from your side. I think I knew it was bad and I didn't stop. I'm sorry for that specifically.
I folded it and handed it back.
"What do you think?"
"I think he meant the last part," Ethan said.
"So do I."
He slid the letter back into the envelope. He didn't throw it out. He carried it upstairs, which I decided meant something, even though I didn't say so.
That same week, Caleb came over for the first time. I felt like I already knew him from everything Ethan had said, but in person he was quieter than I'd pictured. Tall. A little unsure of his own arms and legs, the way boys are when they've grown six inches in a year. He shook my hand at the door, which no fifteen-year-old had ever done in my house, and I liked him on the spot.
They went up to Ethan's room, and I stood in the kitchen and listened to them talking and laughing through the ceiling, and I felt something I hadn't felt in more than a year. Relief. The real kind, the kind that lives in your shoulders and finally lets go.
I asked Caleb to stay for dinner. He told me he'd moved to town at the start of freshman year and hadn't known a single person.
"I saw what was going on with Ethan," he said, looking at his plate. "But I didn't know him well enough to feel like it was my business. I've thought about that a lot since. Whether that was a real reason or just an excuse that was easy to live with."
"Probably a little of both," I said.
He looked up, surprised, then nodded. "Yeah. Probably."
After Caleb went home, Ethan stood at the sink rinsing plates.
"Mom," he said. "Do you think people can actually change? Like Brandon?"
I thought about Renee's hand on the door frame. Is he okay?
"I think some people need something to hit them before they understand what they've been doing," I said. "Whether they change after that is up to them."
Ethan was quiet a moment. "What about Madison?"
"What about her?"
He shut off the tap. "She asked if I wanted to study together sometime. For bio."
I kept my face neutral. "What did you say?"
"I said I'd think about it." He dried his hands. "Is that weird?"
"No," I said. "That's careful. Careful is fine."
May you like
He nodded, hung the dish towel back on its hook exactly where it belonged, and went upstairs.
I stayed in the kitchen after he was gone. Then I sat down in his chair and let myself cry for a minute. Not the grieving kind. The other kind. The kind that means something is finally over.
