The juniors of Clarkson High have been planning Kathy’s Halloween party for a long time. There was a sad attempt at Mike’s house on the last day of tenth grade, a couple of half-parties that fizzled over Christmas, and an embarrassing spring break disaster at Angel’s that ended with a host of furious neighbors, three roaring cops, and two kids in an overnight holding cell.
I wasn’t involved in any of that stuff; I heard about it the next day in school. Ethan and I generally stayed clear of anything with noise, alcohol, or the possibility of arrest. I always kept away because my mom has enough to handle without me adding to her worries. Maybe I’d party when I got to college or grad school. Until then I was just treading water in the safe area of the pool. Ethan stayed away from parties because no one ever invited him. Among other reasons.
But Kathy’s event would be the perfect mix of fun and safe. All the necessary stuff would be there: music, food (mine!), people, and beer. And Kathy’s house was in the middle of twenty acres of quiet farmland, and her nearest neighbor was a mile away. This weekend her parents were going to be in Great Falls, and she had no little siblings to worry about. So nothing could spoil the fun.
Most importantly, I now had a reason to go to this party. A six-foot-tall, curly-haired, serious, and sweet reason whom I couldn’t stop thinking about.
And of course there’s also Ethan and Hope. I had to be around to make sure her plan didn’t blow up in her face like my elephant toothpaste. So my countdown to Saturday’s party is tinged with a strange combination of excitement and dread.
The green dress looks good though. Hope gives her enthusiastic approval after I text her a selfie. The fried eggs on my head are an adorable touch, she adds.
Still, I’m worried my mom will start to wonder about the nature of the little “get-together” if she sees us all in costume. Most people don’t get dressed up to hang out with a couple of kids, even on Halloween. But Mom skips dinner that evening and by eight is already in bed with her laptop and a warm jug of tea. It doesn’t occur to her to question my explanation or our plans. After all, I’ve never been in trouble in my life. All she wants is her son to fit in for once, and she shouts her good wishes through her bedroom door. “Have a great time, Ethan!”
The doorbell rings a couple minutes later, and I run to answer it. Liam is standing on the porch bashfully twirling a pink tail. He’s wearing an overstuffed puffy hat with hanging ears, and a snout dangles lazily off one cheek.
His eyes scan my outfit. “Wow,” he breathes.
“You’re a pig!” I say simultaneously. And then my face gets warm. “I meant, the costume…”
He glances down at the tail in his hand. “Sorry, it was the only thing I could find. Porky Pig. It’s really old.”
“It’s cute. And no one can accuse us of doing a cheesy couples thing.”
“The fried eggs on your head are because you like to cook?”
I shoot him a flirty smile. “Sure. But mostly because I wanted to wear this dress.”
His eyes skim over me again and his face goes pink. “Yeah. You look…really… I mean, really. You know…”
I’m already loving this party, and we haven’t even left my house yet. It’s intoxicating to feel him looking at me like that. I’d be happy to bask in Liam’s bashful half sentences forever.
But then Ethan appears behind us. “Hello, Liam. The party starts at eight. It’s eight fifteen.”
“It’s okay,” he says, turning to my brother. “Most people come a few minutes late. I like your costume, by the way.”
“Thank you. We should go.”
Liam helps me load the platters of Halloween treats into his truck, and we head off to Kathy’s. Ethan spends the entire trip staring out the window at the night sky and carefully readjusting the cardboard lightning cutout around his neck. I’m worried about him; I’m sure he has no idea what he’s getting into. Small, calm gatherings of close friends have overwhelmed him in the past, and tonight is not going to be small or calm. The entire junior and senior class is coming, and some kids from Alberton and Missoula as well. It’s comforting to think that Hope has an escape plan, but I’m not certain she’ll recognize Ethan’s warning signs until it’s too late.
The noise and music hit us before we’re halfway up the gravel path to Kathy’s house. Twenty other cars and pickup trucks are parked along the road, strewn like discarded toys across the green. There are large gouge marks in the soil leading right up to the house. I have no idea how Kathy’s going to explain the tire marks to her parents when they get home, but she’s obviously not worrying about that tonight. She’s hanging out in the front yard with two girls from Alberton High and laughing into a beer. As we get out of the truck, she hollers my name and waves at us.
“There you are! Come here!” She glances at my brother and smiles broadly. “Hope’s waiting for you by the side porch, Ethan. Behind the oak tree.”
He nods and swallows audibly, then turns and walks in the direction she indicated. As he nears the house there’s a sound of crashing glass from inside and a high-pitched shriek of laughter. Ethan flinches and falls back a few steps. “They need to turn down the music,” I mutter to Liam. Why did they have to pick Iron Maiden of all bands? I feel the sound attacking him; I hear him exhaling his fear, see him shutting his eyes. Instinctively I move toward him. I can’t let him go to pieces in front of everyone. It would be better if we turned back now.
But then I feel Liam’s firm hand close over my elbow. “Let him try, Rain,” he whispers. “Just give him a chance.” I look back at Liam and shake my head. He means well, I know he does. He’s watching Ethan’s slow progress across the yard with the concerned expression of a friend. But he isn’t scared like I am. He isn’t feeling Ethan’s heartbeat in his own chest.
“Why don’t I carry the food inside?” Liam suggests. “You can get us a couple of drinks before they run out.”
“Oh, we won’t run out,” Kathy crows. She’s looking a little unstable already, and the party’s barely started. “Everyone’s pitched in. We’ve got lots of cases of beer and a box of Bailey’s and Mike stole a couple of bottles of Jack Daniels from his uncle. So we aren’t going dry for a while. But if you’re planning to drink, I’m going to need to take your car keys.” She holds out a shaky hand and Liam tosses her his key ring. “Sorry, guys, but after what happened to those kids in Great Falls—” She breaks off and squints at the frying pan on my head. “Oh, I get it now!” she exclaims, clapping her hands and glancing between Liam and me. “I can’t believe it took me so long!”
“Get what?”
“Your costume! You guys are green eggs and ham,” she says, pointing at my dress and at Liam’s tail. “That is so cute!”
“Oh,” we say in unison, and Liam chuckles to himself. How did we not see that before? So much for avoiding cheesy. “So what are you?” he inquires, peering at Kathy’s feathered headdress and wings. “A dark angel?”
Her face clouds over and she crosses her arms over her chest. A couple of black feathers flutter to the ground. “I’m a girl whose boyfriend put off picking a costume until the last minute. So I decided to come as a bird. A bird who flies solo.”
There’s a ring of defiance in her blurry voice. I give her a baffled look. Is the Octopus seriously in trouble?
“You should go inside and get some punch,” she tells me sulkily. “Marcus won’t stop talking about it. He’s more interested in his stupid punch than…” She trails off and takes an angry sip of beer, then turns back toward the house and weaves her way across the lawn. Halfway there, she trips, and one of her heels gets stuck in the muddy holes by a hydrangea patch. She kicks the shoe off irritably and limps slowly up the stairs.
“I think she needs someone to talk to,” I say.
Liam nods. “Yeah, but maybe I’ll try talking to Marcus first and see what’s going on. Let’s go find him.”
The full force of the party hits me as we walk in the door. I can’t help loving it: the noise of people, the roar of talk and laughter, the smell of aftershave and beer, the psychedelic glow of faces in the shifting colors of the blinking strobe light. I love the way I can just float among them and lose myself in the beat of the screaming music and swaying bodies. Without Ethan by my side, I can enjoy the heat and energy of the crowd, and for just a minute I forget that I have a brother outside.
Liam lays the trays down in the kitchen, and there are delighted shouts of “Food! Finally!” and then “What the hell is that?” as I unwrap the treats. We push through the crowd and wave at Marcus, who’s hovering over a giant punch bowl and ladling generous portions of bright red liquid into plastic tumblers. He’s doing a very bad job; the table is soggy and dripping and some of the cups have tipped over and spilled their contents all over the floor. “Rain!” he shouts over the crowd. “Come here! You guys gotta try this!”
Liam reaches out and grabs a cup from him, then passes a second one to me. “It’s my own recipe,” Marcus bellows and takes a sloppy slurp of his drink. “You’ll never guess what’s in it.”
I take a careful sip and wince at the taste. “What kind of punch is this?” It’s sweet with a cherry tang and a good deep burn at the end. It takes some getting used to, but it isn’t bad.
“Bloody Vampire,” he burbles. “Rain inspired me.”
“I take no credit for this,” I mutter into my cup.
“Drink it slow,” Liam cautions me. “I think it’s mostly alcohol.”
“Oh my God, you’re a giant sperm!” Marcus squeals delightedly. “That’s awesome!”
Liam raises his eyebrows and chuckles. “Dude, how much of this have you had?”
“Oh! You guys are egg and sperm! I love it!” He points at the frying pan on my head and giggles. “Hysterical.”
I glance over at Liam’s costume again. Maybe if you squint at him sideways and you’re really drunk, Liam’s pig costume could look a little like a monster sperm. I liked it better when we were a cute line from a Dr. Seuss book.
“I’m going to grab some food,” I tell Liam. “Maybe you should talk to Marcus and make him find Kathy. Or at least cut him off. He looks like he’s had enough.”
“Use protection!” Marcus bellows and tosses a plastic trash bag at Liam’s head.
“Good luck,” I say and head for the kitchen.
It’s mostly empty when I get there, and the only sign of the platters I’d brought is a senior licking up the last drops of hummus. “This Vampire bean dip is awesome!” he crows. “I love how you dyed it red!”
“I never dye food,” I tell him scornfully. “It’s chickpea paste and beets. Completely natural.”
He doesn’t seem to appreciate the correction. “Ew.” He glances sadly at the empty bowl. “So, wait…do you have more?”
I shake my head and pick up the last pita crumbs from the counter. As he stumbles out of the kitchen, a voice floats in through the window behind me.
It’s Ethan. He’s sitting outside on the side porch with Hope. The music and noise of the party is muted here, and I can hear everything he’s saying. I move quietly toward the window and press myself up against the wall. From that angle, I can see them clearly, but the curtain hides me well enough so they can’t see me.
“No, I’m glad I came,” Ethan is saying. “Now I can tell my father that I went to a party.”
Hope laughs and moves closer to him. There’s enough space for another person between them on the bench but she scoots over a little to narrow the gap. “He wanted you to go?”
“Yes. It was on his list.”
“What list?”
“He gave me a list of things I need to do. Last time he was here. He called it the list of Ethan’s dreams.”
She laughs again and reaches her hand out to touch him. He isn’t looking at her so he doesn’t see the movement, but I hold my breath as I wait for the moment of contact. It’s not going to be pretty, and she’s going to be sorry, but there’s nothing I can do to stop her.
But then she pauses, her fingers an inch from the corner of his sleeve and seems to hesitate; her hand wavers, and then she slowly draws it back. I breathe again.
“Going to a party is one of your dreams?” she asks.
“No,” he replies. “I don’t like parties. But it’s one of my dad’s steps.”
“His steps?”
“He says there are many steps I have to go through, if I want to become a surgeon.”
“Oh, right! Well, obviously there’s college, and then medical school—”
“No, he wasn’t talking about that. Those are everybody’s steps. But I have my own. He wrote me a list.”
“What’s on the list?”
He glances at her for a moment and then looks back down at his hands. “There’s a lot of things that are difficult for me. Like parties. Big restaurants. Crowded malls. But I must do them, even if I don’t want to. Dad said I get points for every one I do. So I’m making myself get through each one, so eventually I can get there.”
She nods and stares out into the night. “You mean like a list of everyday things,” she says. “You basically just want to be normal.”
He shakes his head emphatically. “No. I never want to be normal.”
“Oh. Okay.” She bites her lip and looks away. “I’m sorry, I should have said neurotypical, right? I didn’t mean that you’re not—”
“I don’t want to be neurotypical, either. If I were normal I wouldn’t be able to see things the way I do. I wouldn’t be able to visualize my diagrams, my sketches, my books; they’re like pictures in my head. I’d have to memorize every detail, one by one, like everybody else. Like you have to do when you study for exams. That would be terrible. I never want to think like you.”
I wonder if Hope is hurt by his bluntness. Even though his words sounded harsh and cold I know they weren’t intended that way. And she seems to realize that. She swallows and turns back to him.
“So what do you want, Ethan?”
He’s still staring at his hands, but as she speaks she reaches out and lightly touches his sleeve. He starts and turns to look at her, then sighs and shifts back slightly.
“I want to pretend,” he tells her softly. “I need to learn to pretend so other people can’t tell.”
“I see,” she murmurs. “And am I a part of that?”
He keeps staring at her but doesn’t respond. He doesn’t understand the question, I want to tell her. But I’m just a mute observer on the wrong side of a kitchen curtain. I have to let her figure it out on her own.
“Am I part of your plan to pretend to be normal?” she amends after a moment of silence.
“No.”
“Okay. Well, that’s good, I guess.” She reaches her hand out to him again and holds her palm out in front of him. “So what do you think about touching people? Is that on your list of things to get through?”
“Yes.”
A shade of hope flickers over her face. “Well…do you want to try that now?”
He shakes his head and shrinks back farther. “I can’t. It’s at the bottom. I’m not there yet.”
She smiles patiently and moves a little closer. “But you told me that you hug your father when you say goodbye. And your sister does that Rain burrito thing to make you feel better. So why can’t I touch your hand now?”
“That’s different. The burrito hold is not skin to skin. I like firm pressure but not light touch. And I don’t mind a quick hug, when my dad insists on it. He knows how to do it so my skin doesn’t touch his.”
“Okay. But if I touched you now… If I put my hand on yours—” She slowly brings her fingers closer to his. “What would that feel like to you?”
He flinches under the threat but doesn’t move his hand away. “I can’t explain it.”
“Try,” she urges. “I want to understand.”
He swallows and clears his throat nervously. “I don’t know. Bad.”
Stop! I want to yell at her. Just leave him alone! How can you understand something you’ve never felt?
“Bad how?” she persists. “Like painful?”
He shakes his head and swallows again. “No, not painful. Maybe like slime feels to you. Or like when a bug crawls up your hand.”
Her hand falls to her side and her mouth drops open. “I feel like a slimy bug?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never touched you.” There’s a thin note of frustration sharpening his tone. “But when someone touches me, especially when I don’t expect it, it’s like they’re violating my personal space. It would be like if a stranger came up and licked your cheek.”
She laughs shortly. “Okay, I’ll be sure to warn you before I start licking. But if you don’t like physical contact, why do you even want to get close to me? If you’re sure it will be awful for you?”
He sighs and for the first time lifts his eyes to look at her. “You can feel both worried and excited at the same time, right?” he replies. “Well, I can feel more than one thing too. My father said that I should think of girls like hot chocolate. The first try might burn my tongue. But eventually I’ll get used to the temperature. And then I can just concentrate on the sweetness.”
“Oh, I get it. That’s just like—”
“Rain!”
The whisper behind me makes me jump, and I turn around to find Liam staring at me. “What are you doing?” he asks in a low voice.
I move away from the window and take a long sip of punch to buy a little time. I have no idea how to explain myself to him. What was I doing? Until Liam interrupted me, it hadn’t occurred to me to question the decency of eavesdropping on my brother. I had a duty to be there, just in case Ethan needed me. It had seemed obvious that I was only there for his protection. But now, seeing myself through Liam’s shocked eyes, I suddenly realize that my presence behind the curtain was not exactly normal.
“I was looking for food,” I say evasively, and take another sip of punch. It burns on the way down, but I like the warm, deep glow it leaves behind. It’s like drinking a relaxing day on the beach. “Someone ate all the hummus.”
“Well, there’s no food out there,” he says, pointing at the window. The motion throws him off a bit, and he sways before regaining his balance.
I drop my head. “I guess I got a little carried away,” I admit after a pause. “I heard them talking, and I wanted to make sure he was okay—”
“All right, I get it.” His tone is far more gentle than I deserve. “You’re worried for him. But still—”
“I know, I know.” I don’t want to talk about this anymore. There’s no way to justify it. “I need some more of this punch,” I tell him. Mostly to change the subject. And also because I truly do want more. I’ve had beer before, and wine—but I’ve never tasted anything that feels this good. “I need to ask Marcus for the recipe.”
“I’ve had two cups already,” Liam admits. “You want this one? It’s mostly full.”
I take the glass from him and swirl the red juice around. It’s easier to concentrate on the punch than talk about what I’ve just done. Liam seems to feel the same way, and he shuffles off to fetch more drinks for us. We enjoy them in silence; minutes pass, maybe hours. By the end of the second cup, I’m not so embarrassed anymore. “We should get out of here.”
“Okay.” He reaches out to take my hand—and misses. His fingers barely graze my wrist. I giggle at the baffled expression on his face. “You’re drunk,” I scoff.
“I’m not drunk,” he retorts. “You moved.”
“I don’t think so. You’re wasted.”
I’m fine though. I’m just feeling fuzzy and peaceful and a little slow. I want to explain everything to him, but I don’t have as many words as I did before. But I’m nowhere close to drunk.
The third cup feels even better going down than the second one did. It slows down time. Liam is trying to walk over to me but he’s moving like a turtle, shuffling one foot in front of the other like he’s making his way across a rickety bridge. He doesn’t look upset at me, just red and confused. Maybe he’s forgotten about the spying stuff.
I feel better about it already. I feel better about everything.
Who was I looking for? I really need to find Marcus and ask him—something. And Kathy—I should tell her that someone drank all the whiskey and didn’t share. There are three empty bottles on the counter next to the empty platters of food. Who stole all the whiskey?
Liam is leaning forward and gripping the edge of the table. He moans and squints up at the clock. How long have we been standing in this kitchen? An hour? Two? Did somebody turn on an oven? It’s so hot in here. “I think we’re missing the party.” But I don’t really care. It’s hard to care about anything when I feel this good.
“I don’t think you should be drinking more—” Liam says suddenly. The last words come out slurred. “Give it back.”
“No.” I sink down onto the floor. The floor is more stable than the counter. The counter feels mushy. “It’s all gone now.”
“Where did it go?”
I giggle and the empty cup drops out of my hand. “Oopsie.” It’s the funniest word in the English language. I want to say it again. “Oopsie.”
“Oopsie,” he echoes, and collapses on the floor next to me. “I want to go to sleep.”
“It’s hot in here,” I say. Or maybe Liam does. It’s like he’s reading my thoughts now. It’s good that he can do that, I think happily. Maybe I don’t have to speak so much with my mouth.
“Let’s go outside,” we say together and then we start to laugh. It begins as a little chuckle, but soon we’re doubled over, and he’s holding on to me. I love the way he laughs. His cheeks get all red and shiny, and his eyes are bright with tears. I never want him to stop laughing. I love how funny he is and how funny I am when I’m with him. I love him.
“I love you too.”
Did he just tell me he loved me? Of course he did! Of course he loves me. Did I tell him I loved him too? I better make sure I did.
“I love you, Liam.”
“You just told me that.”
“Oh.”
It’s the most beautiful moment in my life. We’ve said everything and we can be happy forever. I’m pretty sure he needs to kiss me now. Except maybe outside where it’s cooler. It’s so hot it’s making my stomach hurt.
It takes a really long time to get out of the house. There are lots of people in the living room and they keep bumping into me when I walk near them. Liam helps me push them off. Then he pulls me up when somebody trips me and I fall down. There’s a lot of really drunk teenagers at this party, and they need to be more careful. It’s probably time to leave anyway.
The front yard is peaceful and cold. The grass feels like a cool blanket on my face. I could stay here for a long time. “Why are you lying down?” Liam asks me.
“Lie down with me.”
“Where’s my truck?”
He’s moving away from me slowly, and I don’t want him to go. He hasn’t kissed me yet, and I don’t want to be alone in the dark outside. I try to get up to follow him but my knees are heavy, and my head needs to lean against something. Then his shoulder finds me, my arms wrap around his neck, and together we walk back to his truck. He reaches through the open window and pops open the lock. It’s funny that he has to try three times before he gets the door open. “Stupid handle,” he mumbles. I don’t care about the handle; I don’t care about anything. I just want to lie down on the vinyl seats and close my eyes for a little while. But when I’m inside I suddenly remember my brother is still back at the house and I was supposed to be watching out for him.
Except maybe he doesn’t need me to do that anymore.
It’s the saddest moment in the happiest moment of my life. Ethan doesn’t need me anymore. He’s found Hope and wandered away, the way he used to wander away when he was little and I’d have to find him before he got lost. Only this time he doesn’t want me to find him. And just now Liam thought I was a weirdo for caring too much about my twin.
“I’m not a weirdo,” I sob suddenly. I don’t mean to start crying, but I can’t help it. I might never find my brother again, and my boyfriend thinks I’m crazy. Also I can’t remember if Liam ever asked me out so maybe he isn’t my boyfriend after all and I’m lying pressed up against a total stranger in a pickup truck. Did I just tell a total stranger that I love him?
My face is resting on Liam’s chest and he’s lying back across the seat, his head pushed up against the steering wheel. He shifts over and looks down at me. “I know. Me too.”
I don’t know what he means, but it’s very comforting. He knows exactly what to say to make me feel better. I need to stop crying and kiss him before I fall asleep.
His face is so near mine now. I just have to reach his mouth. I try to get closer, but it’s very hard to move my body over his. But then he slides down a little and pulls at me, and our lips meet, and everything is easy suddenly. He’s moving under me, my chest is pressed against his ribs, I feel him breathe and groan. I inhale his smell, the spice-wash sweetness of him, and taste the sweat and whiskey on his lips, and I want more. I don’t know how to tell him what I want because I can’t remember how to speak, and his lips grab whatever words I have. As long as he keeps kissing me I’ll never lose him. He’s slipping away, everyone is slipping away from me, but maybe this is my last chance. It feels like my only chance to be okay. He loves me, he said he did. It’s the only thing I know for sure. I want to tell him that I love him too; I never want him to forget, but if I say the thought out loud I’m scared he’ll run away. So I have to show him.
I should show him with my body, and then he’ll understand.