Page 84 of Exchanged

He turns to our family, not quite looking at any of us. I can tell he wants to get this over with. “Well,” he says, “I guess this is goodbye.”

Lana holds up her clipboard. “Not quite, actually. We have some paperwork we need to fill out.” She gestures at the front door. “Do you mind if we head inside? It should only take a few minutes.”

Dad nods tersely, and we follow him through the door. No one had said it aloud, but we hadn’t wanted Lana or Garrett’s parents to come into our house, this place that belongs to us and Garrett and the memories we made together. On the way in, Brock’s eyes drift up to the pride flag, and his nostrils flare.

In the entryway, Gina takes in the front desk and the antiques arrayed throughout the adjoining living and dining rooms. “Oh my,” she says. “You really do live in an antique shop.”

We move into the dining room and sit around the table. Aunt Liz brings out coffee for Brock and Gina while Lana begins placing forms in front of them.

“This is to acknowledge Garrett’s early dismissal from the program,” she says, pointing at a spot for them to sign. “And this form will go to Irontown High School to unenroll Garrett and transfer his credits to his school in Atlanta.”

The adults sign over custody of Garrett as if transferring ownership of a used car, and he sits next to me, forearm casually propped on the table, face impassive. His leg gives him away, though. Under the table, it vibrates with uncontrollable energy. I press my own leg against his, and he glances at me.

Gina is in the middle of asking Lana a question, so I lean toward Garrett and whisper, “You could still stay here.”

He looks at me like I’m crazy.

“I meant what I said in the Caving Grounds,” I say. “You’re an adult. You don’t have to leave with them.”

“It’s too late,” he says. “Enz, this is real. This is happening.”

“What are you two talking about over there?” Brock says, clicking the cap on his pen and sliding the paperwork back to Lana, the transaction complete.

“Nothing,” Garrett says.

Brock leans back in his chair, gaze landing on me. “Enzo, we haven’t heard much about you since our chat this fall. We were wondering if you and Garrett have gotten close this year.”

“We’ve gotten along fine.”

“Just ‘fine’?”

“We were cool,” Garrett says. “I mean, Enz practiced the clarinet too often…”

“Oboe,” I correct. “And Garrett was pretty messy,” I add.

Brock looks between us. “Did you hang out much?”

“A little,” I say.

“No,” Garrett says at the same time.

Brock raises an eyebrow. “Which is it?”

“Not much,” I amend, “outside of family stuff, I mean.”

“And getting arrested for trespassing?” Brock adds.

“That, too,” I say.

“Honey,” Gina says, placing her hand on Brock’s forearm, “we should let the Rossis get back to their Sunday morning.”

“Of course,” Brock says, standing. “Y’all headed off to church?”

“No,” Dad says.

“We’re Catholic,” Emma says at the same time, as if trying to placate Brock and Gina.

Brock lets out a chuckle.