5
" I go with him to retrieve his backpack. The hallway’s deserted, so he and I steal a kiss against the row of lockers. Then I push him away. “I thought you were morally opposed to PDAs.”
“Yeah, they’re gross,” he says, and leans in again.
I hold him off with the palms of my hands against his chest. “I’d hate for you to have to do something that makes you uncomfortable.”
“I’ll survive.”
“Come on,” I say, and shove him toward the exit. “Let’s go. But admit you were wrong about that whole kissing in public thing. It’s not such a crime.”
“It is when I’m not the one kissing you.”
“Were you jealous of James? Even back then?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “Not exactly. And you guys were pretty annoying. I was sincerely disgusted by you—”
“Thanks.”
“But I’ll admit that if I’d been standing where he was standing, I’d probably have had a different view of the whole thing.”
“The funny thing is, he was jealous of you for a while there.”
He snorts. “I seriously doubt that your ex has ever been the slightest bit jealous of me. Look at him. And look at me.”
“I’m not comparing you two—”
“Because I’d lose.”
“Well, yeah, but only in looks and personality.”
Now it’s his turn to thank me sarcastically. "
― Claire LaZebnik , Things I Should Have Known
6
" You don’t want him to be miserable. It’s just . . . you were planning not to go away to college because he might need you, right? And then he’s the one who goes off to school, and he doesn’t even seem to miss you. But I bet he does miss you. It’s just that he’s like Ivy—neither of them is very good at saying what other people need to hear.”
“But it’s more than just what he says. I honestly think I miss him more than he misses me.”
“That’s because you took care of him. And he’s still basically being taken care of, but you don’t have anyone to take care of. So you lost more than he did.” I nudge his hand with mine. “I’m willing to be taken care of, by the way, if you need someone to fill that void. I could use a little more nurturing in my life.”
“I’ll try,” he says. “But I’m not all that great at being warm and fuzzy.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“I think maybe you’re being sarcastic,” he says, exactly the way Ethan would say it, and I laugh.
“You need to be proud he’s doing so well,” I say. “It’s all because of you.”
“So basically you’re saying I should let my baby bird leave the nest?”
“Exactly. Now eat your sub so you can regurgitate it for him when we get back. "
― Claire LaZebnik , Things I Should Have Known
7
" WE LEAVE THE DORM, and Ethan shows us the gym, where he proudly informs us that in one month he’s already doubled the weight he can curl, then the community room, which has an enormous flat-screen TV and a bunch of pinball and video games, then the computer room, and then his little corner patch of their big community garden, where he’s growing lettuce and beets.
“But you don’t eat vegetables,” David says.
“Sammy says food tastes better when you grow it yourself.”
“It’s true,” I say. David rolls his eyes and makes a snorting sound. “It is,” I insist. “I once had a tomato plant, and I hate tomatoes, but I ate the one little tomato I succeeded in growing, and it was delicious. Then the plant died.”
“I didn’t want to grow tomatoes,” Ethan says.
“I don’t blame you. It only leads to heartbreak. "
― Claire LaZebnik , Things I Should Have Known
8
" Don’t get mad at me for asking this, but why do you like him? I mean, I know you guys have the autistic sibling thing in common, but that can’t be the whole story.”
“It’s not.” I want to explain, but it’s not easy. “You know that viral video that everyone was into a few years ago? About the lion who gets reunited with the guy who raised him as a cub? And the lion, like, licks him and hugs him and plays with him? And it’s amazing?”
She raises her eyebrows. “You saying David’s a lion?”
“It’s just . . . it’s easy to get a dog to love you. But it’s a lot harder—and cooler—to get a lion to. Especially if you’re the only person he doesn’t attack.”
“I hope there’s a sexual metaphor somewhere in this whole lion thing,” Sarah says. “Because, honestly, that’s the only reason that would actually make sense to me.”
“I don’t think either of us has a problem with you leaping to that assumption,” I say with an exaggerated wink.
“Seriously,” she says. “Calling him a lion . . . I have issues with this.”
“It’s just a metaphor.”
“I know. But I don’t want you to be involved with someone who could hurt you.”
“He wouldn’t. Not ever. He thinks the world is a shitty place, but he also thinks I’m the best thing in it. Well, me and his brother.”
“Great,” she says. “Now you’re making me jealous. I’m jealous of your relationship with David Fields. Could I be a bigger loser?”
“I’m not even telling you the best parts.”
“Good,” she says. “Spare me "
― Claire LaZebnik , Things I Should Have Known
9
" It takes me a minute to find the others, who are no longer at Panda, but once I turn a corner, I spot their table instantly—they’re hard to miss, mostly because Ethan is standing up and shouting and flailing his arms.
“It hurts!” he’s shouting. “It hurts!” He sticks his tongue out and rubs at it with first one hand and then the other—he looks like he’s slapping at his own mouth.
David grabs at his hands. “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t do that. Eat some rice—that’ll help.”
“Why did they give that to me?” Ethan cries. “It hurts!”
“They’re just for flavor—you’re not supposed to eat them.”
“Why do they put them in there, then?” He wrenches his hands out of his brother’s grasp and swipes at his mouth again.
David sees me standing there. “Chili pepper,” he says wearily.
“Oh.” Now I understand. “He’s right about eating rice,” I tell Ethan. “It stops the burning.”
“The rice is hot too!”
“It’s a different kind of hot. Blow on it first, and it will help, I promise...” David pushes Ethan into a chair and stands over him. “Seriously, dude, eat some rice.” He plunges a fork into the mound on Ethan’s plate.
Ethan glares at him but opens his mouth, and David shoves the rice in. Ethan chews and swallows. “It still hurts.”
“You shouldn’t have eaten the chili pepper,” Ivy says. “Everyone knows they’re hot.”
“I didn’t mean to!” Ethan roars at her, spraying chewed-up rice across the table. “It got in my mouth on accident!”
“Chilis can be sneaky,” I say.
“Tricky little beasts,” David agrees. “You can’t trust a chili.”
“Bell peppers, though—they’re trustworthy.”
“The really evil ones are those little shishito bastards,” David says. “Some of them are hot, and some aren’t. You can’t tell until you bite into one. How is that fair?”
“It’s not,” I say. “It’s not fair at all.”
“And don’t get me started on pepperoncini. I mean, first of all that name . . .”
“My tongue is better now,” Ethan says. “Because of the rice.” He takes the fork from David and starts rapidly shoveling more rice into his mouth. “I’m not going to eat any more orange chicken,” he says through the mess in his mouth. “Just the rice. There’s no chili pepper in rice. "
― Claire LaZebnik , Things I Should Have Known
10
" Jana stares at him for a moment then abruptly turns to me. “It’s so weird bumping into you, Chloe—I was just thinking about you on the way here, about how I needed to ask you for notes from Monday’s history class. And here you are!”
“Don’t say it’s an amazing coincidence,” David says. “Just don’t.”
“What’s wrong with saying that? It is! I mean, what are the odds?”
“On any given day, you probably think of dozens of different people at various times. But the only time anyone ever remembers thinking about someone is when they run into that person. It’s not coincidence—it’s selective memory.”
“Whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You do you, David.”
“I always do,” he says calmly. "
― Claire LaZebnik , Things I Should Have Known
11
" David has one of those bland faces that would get him off for murder because not a single eyewitness would be able to describe him. They’d all be saying stuff like, “Oh, you know . . . hair that’s kind of brown . . . not that straight, but not curly either . . . His nose? Just kind of normal, I guess . . . Dark eyes, probably brown . . . Average size . . .” Meanwhile he’d be off killing a bunch more innocents. And they’d come interview everyone at our school, and we’d all be, like, “Yeah, I’m not surprised. Guy was weird. "
― Claire LaZebnik , Things I Should Have Known
12
" Okay, then . . .” I stand up. “It’s been real,” I tell David flatly.
“Yeah,” he says. “Later.”
Ethan has leapt to his feet and joined us. “I’ll walk you guys to your car,” he says.
“That’s really nice, but you don’t have to,” I say. “We’re parked a couple of blocks away.”
“My brother said I should.”
“Yes, I did.” David gets up, jamming his phone in his pocket. “Come on. Let’s accompany these two lovely ladies to their car.”
I catch a whiff of sarcasm, but the other two are oblivious to it. Ethan resumes his X-Men discourse, but the rest of us are silent, and the walk feels endless. We come to a halt at our Subaru hatchback.
“This is yours?” David says, like he’s surprised.
“My mom’s.”
“Where’s your car?”
“Nonexistent?”
“Seriously? I pictured you always cruising around in some hot girl car like a Porsche or something.”
“A ‘hot girl car’? What does that even mean? That the girl is hot or the car is?”
He flushes. “I don’t know why I used that word. I never do.”
“Hot or girl?” I ask sweetly. "
― Claire LaZebnik , Things I Should Have Known
14
" David tears a chocolate chip cookie in half. “Want some?” He holds a piece out to me. The chocolate glistens, and the brown-buttery inside looks like it will be chewy, which is how I like my cookies. I can’t think of a single reason to refuse. So I reach for it.
“Thanks.” We chew together for a companionable moment. “That was really good,” I say after I’ve swallowed.
“I know.” He balls up the wrap it came in. “It was a pretty big sacrifice on my part to give you half. I’m already regretting it.”
“I’ll make it up to you someday, somehow. This, I swear.”
“How about giving me your firstborn child?”
“Okay, but when climate change has destroyed life as we know it and we’re all fighting to survive, you can’t favor your natural children over my poor little loaner.”
He laughs, and I notice a couple of other kids turning to look at us. I guess the sound of David Fields laughing is unfamiliar enough to draw attention. His laugh is unexpectedly warm—I’ve heard it a few times now, but its richness still surprises me.
“Someone’s been reading too much dystopian fiction,” he says.
“Yeah, don’t get me started on the zombie apocalypse.”
“What’s to get started on? All you need is an axe and you’re good.”
“You need some chain too.”
“For what?”
I roll my eyes. “To chain up your loved ones when they get bitten. Duh.”
“Why even bother fighting? Why not just give in and all become zombies? Nothing would change—most of the kids here would already tear out each other’s flesh if it meant they had a better chance of getting into Stanford.”
“Yeah, but their parents would never let them eat any old brains—they’d have to be organic. "
― Claire LaZebnik , Things I Should Have Known
15
" Don’t you feel like we’re living in a different world from everyone else at school? All anyone else ever thinks about is getting into the best college they can afford.” I wind my fingers around my cup, seeking out the warmth. “And if I weren’t worried about Ivy, I’d totally be like that—I mean, I work hard at school. I want to get a huge scholarship and go somewhere amazing just as much as everyone else. But if I only thought about that . . . if I just stopped caring about what’s going to happen to Ivy . . . I’d end up hating myself.”
David’s mouth opens like he sort of wants to say something, but then he doesn’t. I glance up, and he’s just sitting there looking at me. His eyes are such a cool color—a mixture of brown and gray with tiny flecks of yellow ringing the pupils. How could I ever have thought they were colorless and uninteresting?
I squirm under his steady gaze. “You’d tell me if I had something on my face, right?”
“You have, like, this beautiful face on your face.”
I feel my cheeks turn hot. I give a shaky laugh. “Don’t turn into someone who gives compliments. I won’t know you anymore.”
“Don’t worry,” he says, flushing. Which is kind of adorable. “That one just slipped out. It won’t happen again. "
― Claire LaZebnik , Things I Should Have Known
