Chapter 3 - Ethan Wasn’t Supposed to Know
I couldn’t breathe.
“Why would she hide us?”
Michael looked toward Mom.
“That’s what she needs to answer.”
Gary laughed bitterly.
“You don’t know anything.”
Michael turned.
“I know enough.”
Then Ethan whispered:
“I know him.”
Everyone looked at him.
“What?” I asked.
Ethan pointed at Michael.
“I saw his picture.”
Mom’s face changed instantly.
“Where?”
Ethan shrank back.
I moved closer.
“It’s okay.”
He looked at me.
“Inside Mom’s green box.”
Gary swore.
Mom stepped forward.
“You weren’t supposed to touch that.”
Ethan started shaking again.
I stood between them.
“Don’t talk to him like that.”
Michael’s attention sharpened.
“What green box?”
Nobody answered.
So I did.
“Mom keeps a locked metal box in her closet.”
Michael looked at her.
“Still?”
Still.
That one word told me the box mattered.
Mom’s face hardened.
“You need to leave.”
Michael shook his head.
“No.”
“This is my family.”
“No, Diane.”
His voice stayed quiet.
“That’s exactly what we need to talk about.”
Gary stepped toward him.
Michael didn’t move.
Then Ethan tugged my sleeve.
“I found papers.”
“What papers?”
“Names.”
“Whose?”
He swallowed.
“Yours.”
My stomach tightened.
“And mine?”
Ethan nodded.
Mom suddenly grabbed the kitchen phone.
Michael took it from her hand.
She snapped:
“You have no right!”
He looked at her.
“I have every right if those documents are what I think they are.”
I stared.
“What documents?”
Mom finally screamed:
“STOP ASKING QUESTIONS!”
Silence.
That was the loudest I had heard her all day.
Louder than when Gary raised the belt.
Louder than when Ethan cried.
She wasn’t afraid of the violence.
She was afraid of the box.
That told me everything.
“Brooke,” Michael said, “can you get it?”
Mom lunged toward the hallway.
Gary grabbed her arm.
Not violently.
Desperately.
“Diane.”
She stared at him.
He shook his head once.
They were communicating without words.
Michael saw it too.
“What did you two do?”
Gary glared at him.
“You don’t get to judge us.”
“I’m not asking permission.”
I looked at Ethan.
“Where’s the key?”
He pointed toward the spilled green paint.
I frowned.
Then he walked carefully around the broken glass and picked up a green crayon.
He snapped it in half.
A tiny brass key fell onto the floor.
I stared.
“You hid it?”
Ethan nodded.
“Gary was looking for it.”
That explained everything.
The paint.
The broken glass.
The chair.
Gary hadn’t been punishing Ethan for making a mess.
He had been trying to force him to reveal where he hid the key.
Michael looked at Gary.
His face changed.
“What’s in that box?”
Gary said nothing.
May you like
Ethan answered instead.
“A paper that says Brooke has another name.”
