Heidi mops up my splatters with a paper napkin. “But it also gives them hope. It calls for fasting, but then you feast. First sacrifice, then joy. Science doesn’t offer rewards.”

  “What was Kyle’s reward, then?”

  Etta says, “Kyle’s problem was not his religion. His disease is what got to him.”

  “Religion made it worse. And God didn’t help!”

  Heidi raises one hand as if for calm and sets it down slowly. “I don’t think God’s role is to solve all the mysteries for us. It’s to help us live with them. This is one reason that my own belief system relies so heavily on a broader spiritual world. This way I have alternatives. I have sources of strength that don’t rely only on my own understanding, or only on someone else’s interpretation, and I don’t have only one place to go when I have questions.”

  This doesn’t help me. “So what am I supposed to do? I’m surrounded by some people who want me to believe that there’s no way God created everything just like it is, and others who want to convince me that’s the only way it could be! And if that’s not enough, there are people on both sides who think everyone should be just like them, and no one should be gay!”

  Etta is looking at me, drumming her fingers. “Ethan, what part do you think Max plays in your life right now? Does his being in it make things easier or harder?”

  Is she suggesting it’s one way or the other? I look at Heidi. Does she even know about me and Max? About me? I just gave her a hint....

  Heidi smiles. “Ethan, no one has said anything to me, but I have to say it’s pretty obvious that Max is special to you. If I’ve misunderstood, let me know.”

  I look down at my plate. “I think you understand.” I look up at her. “But he doesn’t want people to know.”

  “Do you want them to know about you?”

  Time to stop avoiding this question, I guess. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want to hide. I don’t want to pretend, or lie, or make it look like I agree with people who think there’s something wrong with me.”

  “What steps have you taken?”

  “Well, I have a boyfriend. Sort of. Max.”

  “Sort of?”

  “I mean, he won’t really come out at all, so we have to hide. His sister knows about me. He’s out to her. And my mom knows. Her lawyer, I think, because he guessed. My friend Jorja, sort of. And Shane. And you guys.”

  “Shane Jenson? Tattoo Shane?”

  This puzzles me, partly because I’d never heard his last name, partly because he knew the name Heidi Wolcott. “He knew who you were, too. I went to talk to him after Two died, when Etta wouldn’t . . . you know. Wasn’t ready to talk to people.”

  Heidi asks, “Not Kyle, then? He doesn’t know? Or your father?”

  “No.”

  She nods. “Do you wish more people knew?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I want to be out, you know? But . . .”

  “Indeed, ‘but.’ There are consequences. And not all of them are about you. It’s a path you should move down thoughtfully. What about Max? Who knows about him?”

  “His sister. Me. You guys.”

  “As far as Max knows, we don’t know anything. If we are to find out, he must tell us.”

  “Ha. That’s not likely.”

  But Heidi just smiles. “There are a number of things Max is avoiding, aren’t there?” I wonder if she means it was Max avoiding his animal, and not the other way around.

  There’s something I’ve been avoiding, myself. “Should I tell my dad?”

  “Oh, sweetie, no one can tell you that. At any rate, I think he needs to get through at least some of his recovery period before he hears something that might surprise him. He’s going through so much right now. Sometimes that’s a good time to reveal something to someone. But not always. And I can’t advise you.”

  So. I still have to find my own answers. This sucks. “And what about balance for me? If Cardinal wants to push me down some spiritual path, where do I get balance?”

  Heidi laughs. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I’ve been treating you like you understand more than you do yet. I’m getting the sense you aren’t ready to let go of the idea of Bat as yours. Is that true?”

  “I like Bat. It feels comfortable.”

  “That’s okay; he has plenty to teach anyone, and I still think you need his medicine. The Cardinal pair brings different perspectives. It includes the female, and that’s where balance comes from. But you’re right not to let the male cardinal come at you too soon. I think you’re what I call a sensitive, which means you’re very receptive to the difficulties of others—and often to what could help them. If I’m right, you’ll need to learn to protect yourself without locking yourself away.”

  I’m shaking my head. “It’s too much stuff to think about at once.”

  “Then don’t think. Just feel, and hold on to Bat as long as you want to. And if Cardinal frightens you, then let me present an alternative. It could be that he’s being way too pushy, and if you protect yourself without hiding, you’ll soon know whether the cardinal pair is for you. Personally, I’m thinking that someday you’ll be ready for Raven.”

  Now I shake my head, hard. “Raven? Oh, I don’t think so! That’s all about multidimensional stuff, and mystery. Secrets, magic, the void. Shape-shifting.”

  Etta laughs.

  Heidi doesn’t. She says, “That’s right.”

  My iPhone rings, and I jump. It’s Mom. “I have to answer this.” I go into the dark living room, where I can see through the picture window that everything outside is obscured by snow.

  “Where are you?”

  “At Etta’s. How is everyone there?”

  “Still looking good, thank God. Or whoever. I’m staying here, like I planned. Are you all right being at home alone? Should I ask Etta to have you stay with her?”

  “She has just the one bedroom. I’m good. I’ll be okay.”

  “There’s a storm coming in. Can you make sure the driveway is shoveled in the morning? I’d like to come get you tomorrow so you can see Kyle and your father. Can you miss school?”

  “Sure. Max asked Sylvia to run interference for me. She knows what’s going on.”

  “I’ll call the principal’s office tomorrow, too, just to be sure. Ethan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I want you to know how much I appreciate being able to rely on you. This will be over soon, and things will be better. I promise.”

  Almost what Dad had said. “I know. It’s okay, Mom. Call tomorrow and let me know what time you’ll get home, will you?”

  “Of course. Good night, sweetie.”

  She hasn’t called me that in . . . forever?

  Back in the kitchen, I offer to help with the dishes. I’m not ready to go to my totally empty house. Then we all go into the living room, a place I’ve never spent more than a few minutes in, and Heidi gives us each a mug full of something that tastes kind of like hot apple cider, but it has a bite to it. I like it a lot. It warms me inside.

  Lots of snow is hitting the picture window, and I ask Etta if she knows who will plow her out tomorrow. She smiles and says she does know, but she’s not telling. She also says someone will take care of my driveway, or as much of it as they can around my dad’s pickup. I try, but I can’t get any more than that out of her, so I go back to sipping my drink until my eye falls on the singing bowl, which someone has put back. The Shakespeare books are right there, too.

  “Whose books are those?” I ask.

  Etta answers, “The ones on the shelves you’re pointing to were my father’s.”

  “So is he the one who wrote out the stuff about being true to yourself?”

  She smiles. “Yes. If there’s one person who could make that claim, it was Dad. We should all be so lucky. But I guess it’s not luck. It’s up to each of us, isn’t it?”

  No one answers. No one needs to.

  I finish my drink and ask if there’s more. Heidi smiles, and says yes, but it won’t taste quite the same. She fetches me what really is just hot apple cider now, and I think I can guess that whatever else was in the first mug was alcoholic. The second mug is still good, though.

  I’m half finished with this one when Etta says, “I need to get you home before the snow gets too bad. Before you go, though, Heidi and I have something we want you to know. It’s a confidence, and if you’re not comfortable keeping it, say so and I won’t go on.”

  “You want me to keep something secret?”

  “Yes, just as Heidi and I would say nothing about you or Max.”

  “I can deal with that.” My curiosity won’t let me turn down this opportunity.

  “You might have guessed already, but in case you haven’t, Heidi and I are both lesbians. And we’re together.” I just blink at her. “Just like Heidi said earlier, sometimes a time of turmoil is the best time to reveal something surprising. We think you’re strong enough to take this one, which might be a surprise but shouldn’t be upsetting. I hope we’re not wrong.”

  Something’s coming up from inside me. At first I don’t know what it is, but then there’s a sputter, and then a giggle, and I have to set my mug down. Then I’m laughing. Of course! How could I not have known? God, even Shane knew! Friend was the word he echoed oddly after I said it. Etta and Heidi are both laughing with me now. No wonder she didn’t go back to New York.

  On the drive home, with snow piling up by the inch and me with no worries about shoveling it tomorrow, I feel supported, somehow, in a way I never felt before. I know I can handle whatever’s going to happen next. I’m still in a pack. A secret, wonderful pack.

  I do the dishes from this morning, more for something to do than anything else, and make sure the outside lights are on in case my secret snow plower comes for the first time while it’s still dark. I should feel really weird being alone in the house like this. I guess I do feel a little strange, but I don’t feel alone. And I wish Etta were still here so I could say that having Max in my life is making things better. Come to that, having her in my life is making things better, too.

  When I head up to my room I stop at Kyle’s door and flip on the light. Mom really cleaned up; you can’t tell anything awful happened in here, ever. It’s ready for him whenever he gets out of the hospital, though he won’t have a door for a while. Maybe we can even bring back the hangers and the lightbulbs.

  I sit for a few minutes on the side of my bed, Edgar in my hands. Raven? Heidi thinks I’m destined for Raven? I can’t even figure out Up. But I did figure out about my need for balance, and I already knew about my own male–female integration, something the cardinal pair is supposed to mean. So . . . who knows?

  I think about the way I’d felt driving home from Etta’s: strong, protected, not alone even with all this terrible stuff going on around me. To fortify my network, I picture the different people. And then something jolts me upright.

  Jorja.

  I grab my phone and dial her house, even though it’s nearly ten o’clock. No answer. I’ve left enough voice messages by this time—two? three?—so I just hang up.

  I can’t sleep, thinking of Jorja. To put her out of my mind, I think about my folks. Lots of times you watch a TV show or a movie, and there’s this family that something terrible happens to like the death of a child, and the family falls apart, the parents split, all that stuff. So what’s going on here? Does it take the near death of a child to bring my folks together? Maybe it’s just that a catalyst changes the situation from whatever it was to something else? Whatever, it really seems like they’re together again. I just wish it was enough happiness to help me get to sleep.

  But I do sleep, and I have this dream. It’s a stupid dream, and it doesn’t feel anything like my trance at Etta’s. I don’t see any real meaning in it. It’s just a jumbled mess created by all the horrible things happening lately, mixed with Jorja’s—and maybe Kyle’s—fixation on Revelations. On that stupid beast.

  Jorja’s down in this sort of pit area, and it’s all dark like we’re in Mordor or someplace, and she’s running around trying to hide behind rocks and looking for a way out of the pit, and there’s this beast chasing her. I can’t see it well enough to describe it, but it’s big and ugly and nasty, and there’s no doubt its intentions are anything but good. I’m up on the edge of the pit, scrambling around for tree roots or vines or anything I can drop down to help Jorja escape, and of course being a dream it never occurs to me that this is pointless, that the beast could grab on to the vine, too, and maybe pull me in. For some reason I’m not personally afraid of the beast. I am afraid for Jorja, though, and I’m frantic that I can’t do anything to help her.

  I wake up a few times, but each time I fall asleep again I go back to the edge of that pit, and Jorja’s still in there desperately trying to avoid the beast. Finally I get up, maybe around four, and go downstairs. I drink some of Kyle’s orange juice and sit in the dark living room, almost but not quite wanting to look in Kyle’s Bible to see if the beast can be overcome by garlic or silver bullets or something, not quite having the energy to turn on the computer and do some online research. Town plows have gone by on the road, and there’s a berm at the end of my driveway that’s maybe two feet high. I’m watching the near white-out conditions outside when I see a smaller truck approaching, slowing, and turning into my driveway. I press my face against the window to see who it is.

  It’s Mr. Hyde. Nancy Hyde’s husband. Nancy Hyde, who had stopped talking to Mom for supporting Etta. I laugh out loud. How do you like that? Etta Greenleaf must have called the Hydes and not only convinced them to plow her out but also to make sure we’re okay.

  Life’s a funny thing.

  I turn on the lamp beside me and wave. Mr. Hyde waves back.

  Chapter 15

  Mom comes to get me around eleven. I’ve already texted Max to let him know why I won’t be in school, and Mom has already called the office. Mr. Hyde has come back at least once more, the sun is now out, and I’ve shoveled the steps and around the pickup.

  Mom comes in, stomping off the unavoidable snow that sticks to everything when it’s fresh, and hangs up her coat. She looks tired but happy. “Ethan, you did a marvelous job on that driveway!”

  I shrug, thinking she can’t have looked too closely; a plowed edge looks very different from when the snow is shoveled. “Thanks, but I can’t take all the credit.” I’d kind of like to, but the fact that it was Nancy’s husband who plowed us out is too good to keep quiet about. “Mr. Hyde came by at least twice.”

  She freezes. “What? What did you say?”

  “Etta must have called him. She told me someone was going to plow her out and would come by here, too. And I saw him.”

  She kind of gropes for the back of Dad’s easy chair and sits down in it, and before I know what’s going on she’s sobbing and sobbing.

  “Mom! What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

  She nods, but she can’t speak right away, just reaches for the tissue box and goes on crying. I sit on the hassock in front of her, not sure whether to be worried or not.

  Finally she manages to say, “It’s all right, Ethan. There’s just been too much shit going on.” She takes a few ragged breaths. “When things have been horrible and someone does something really, truly nice, it can make you lose it. That’s all.” She blows her nose, cries a little more, and then gets up. “I’m going to take a shower. Then we’ll have some lunch, and I’ll take you to see Kyle and your dad.”

  We have some canned tuna and soup in the cupboard, and I throw lunch together so it’s ready when she comes downstairs. She hugs me when she sees it.

  At the hospital, they’ve put Dad and Kyle in the same room. Dad looks tired and groggy but cheerful; guess it feels good to be able to save your son’s life. Kyle looks exhausted, and he’s still hooked up to more stuff than Dad is, but he’s alive. He’s not terribly chatty, but he lifts his right arm and smiles as well as he can. I smile back, forcing myself not to let it show how grossed out I am, just like Mom had been, by the sight of that bandaged stump.

  But it’s what Kyle needed. And who am I to say otherwise? Maybe I can’t believe the bit about it being possessed, but there’s no doubt that Kyle needed that hand gone. It made no sense to us; we just had to believe him. And even though I know it’s not the same, because being gay is how I was born and who I’ve always been, and Kyle wanting his hand gone is only the last few months, it’s kind of the same in terms of other people accepting it. Mom and Dad both accepted that taking Kyle’s hand off was the best thing, and they made sure it happened. Now I just need to get Dad to accept that letting me be who I am is something he needs to do, too. For me. Because it’s best for me. It’s truth for me. And I don’t want to be untrue to myself or to anyone else.

  Mom tells Dad about Mr. Hyde plowing so he won’t worry about it. He’ll be here a few days before he can go home, and then he’ll have to be kind of careful for weeks—no lifting things, and no plowing, that’s for sure. Kyle will be here a little longer, and his recovery will keep him out of school for a while. Given how much he’s missed already, he might even have to repeat the school year. Which would put him in the same year as me. Which would be really weird. Guess that’s one of those bridges we can’t cross just yet.

  We leave just after three. On the drive home, Mom says she needs to sleep in a bed, and besides she has to vote. I just stare at her; I’d forgotten all about it, and I can’t believe she remembers at this point, either.

  Mom makes me wait in the car while she goes in to vote. There are people standing around holding signs, and a few of them are repeats from the town hall meeting, but mostly the signs just have candidates’ names on them. And there are lots more for Etta than for Carl Phinney. I can’t help wondering if somewhere between the fight at school and Two getting shot, sensible people started to see where the violence was coming from.