---

SPRING BROUGHT THE FIRST REAL WARNING

Ethan came home with his right knuckles scraped.

“What happened?”

“Gym.”

“What happened in gym?”

“Basketball.”

“You hate basketball.”

He looked at me.

“Apparently today I didn’t.”

I followed him into the kitchen.

“Was Mason involved?”

“No.”

“Did somebody push you?”

“No.”

“Are you fighting?”

“No.”

“Then why are your hands bleeding?”

Ethan turned around.

“Because I punched a locker.”

I froze.

“Why?”

He laughed.

Not happily.

“I don’t know, Mom.”

“You don’t punch lockers for no reason.”

“Okay.”

“So tell me.”

He stared at me.

Then asked:

“What would happen if I told you Mason’s been doing stuff all year?”

My heart started pounding.

“I’d call the school.”

“Exactly.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You’d call before I finished telling you.”

“That’s because I would protect you.”

Ethan looked away.

“I know.”

He said it like an accusation.

---

THAT SUMMER, ETHAN CHANGED

Physically first.

He began waking at six.

Jogging.

Not obsessively.

Just consistently.

He joined a community gym.

Learned to cook eggs.

Stopped drinking soda.

Cut his hair shorter.

By August, he looked older.

Not dramatically muscular.

Not transformed into some movie-star teenager.

Simply more comfortable inside himself.

I was thrilled.

“There’s my boy.”

He gave me a strange look