Invincible Summer(27)

Our new closeness is probably her doing, because after a while I notice she’s making an effort to get along better with everyone. She’s buying my parents newspapers when she goes out, cleaning up after Lucy, and at least making attempts at conversation with Noah, whenever he’s around. It’s like she thinks that if she grabs at everyone enough, we’ll start copy-ing and grab back. And they tell me I’m the clingy one. Noah and Claudia are probably worse than I am, when it’s all said and done. They’re just quiet about it.

Claudia starts joining me on the beach in the evenings.

While Melinda and Noah are tackling each other into the spray, Melinda’s legs long in her bikini, kick kick kicking, we walk together, far enough from the ocean that only the biggest waves lick our feet.

Most evenings, Melinda will suddenly push away from Noah at some point and put her arms around herself. She gives Noah small, angry looks, and he doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He never does. He touches her hair until she calms down. If she doesn’t, he bails, and she stands by herself and stares out at the sea, wiping her cheeks now and then.

Sometimes Shannon comes out and puts his arm around

her. He and Noah are both so much bigger than Melinda. For some reason I can’t even begin to picture how I would look next to her.

“Stop staring,” Claudia says. “Stalker.”

I take my eyes away from Shannon’s biceps. Claudia pulls her hair back in her hand. “We could go break them up if you want. Dance provocatively in front of them or something.”

“Claudia.”

“You must miss Bella.”

I exhale. “Melinda kissed me.”

She tries to do one of those long, low whistles, but it sputters and hisses in her teeth.

I say, “Don’t tell Noah, okay?”

“Yeah, I won’t.” She adds, because she’s Saint Claudia, I guess, “But I’m surprised you haven’t.”

“I know.”

“Be careful, Chase, okay?”

“She didn’t hold me at gunpoint or anything.”

“I know, just . . .” She watches Shannon and Claudia for a minute. “Just don’t get yourself in a place where you give too much of a shit about . . . romance. We’re here only a few more weeks, you know? You don’t want to f*ck up stuff with Noah just for some girl.”

“I know that.”

“Good,” she says, and then she takes off down the beach to leap on top of Shannon and tackle him into the ocean.

While they’re shrieking, Melinda catches my eye. I’m about to open my mouth to say . . . God, who the hell knows, but Gideon ruins it or saves me by running up to me and

screaming at me with his hands—Mom ice cream now now now tell Claudia run run Chase chocolate ice cream whipped cream.

Part of Claudia’s peace mission included ending her mor-atorium on teaching Gideon new signs. She bribes him with cookies to get him to sit down with her every day and learn some new words. He picks it up a lot more quickly than any of us would expect, which is awesome. The downside is that she’s now fully behind sending him to Deaf school. Deaf with a capital D, which means you’re part of the Deaf community.

And I’m sure that’s awesome, but I don’t think anyone but me understands how inaccessible that world is for us, and I can’t believe how willing they are to surrender our seven-year-old to somewhere we can’t follow.

Claudia and Mom are chattering about it like it’s a vacation we’re planning. They’re talking about all the research they’ve done and all the programs they think would be perfect for Gideon.

“It’ll be good for him,” Claudia says. She licks chocolate sauce off her sand-coated hands. “Think of how much ASL

he’ll pick up.”

I say, “It’s residential school. We’ll never see him.” I say, Gideon napkin but he’s too busy freaking out about ice cream. You’d think we never feed the kid with how f*cking excited he gets.

“We’ll see him,” Mom says.

“Do you know what they do to boys in those residential school?” I ask, because I’ve done my damn research and I’m not afraid of an ugly truth if it will help keep my brother safe.

Claudia says, “What?”

“Don’t you worry about it.” Mom gives me a look.

I say, “Haven’t you read about—”

“Chase.”

Claudia says, “I want to know!”

“No, you don’t,” I say. “That’s the point.”

Claudia turns to Mom, her eyes big. “Like what happened to Melinda?”

I say, “Wait, what?”

Mom says, “We’re not discussing this in front of Gideon.”

“Gideon’s deaf . . .”

“And going away to school,” Mom says. “Pass the whipped cream.”

I don’t pass it. I sit on the couch and read more Camus.

I don’t want to think about what I’ve read the older boys at Deaf schools do to the younger boys. I don’t want to think about what I’ve read happens to pretty girls at college parties.

Camus. The only problem with reading so much Camus is that

it gives Melinda an excuse to linger when she drops by. I tell her Noah’s not here, and she starts to go, but she never really does. She always stays, clinging to our doorway, asking me how I liked The First Man or Helen’s Exile.