The first time I drew a Tyrannosaurus rex, Ethan stared at the page.
Then asked:
“What is that?”
“A T. rex.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
He pointed.
“It looks like a potato with tiny arms.”
I shoved him.
He laughed so loudly our teacher separated us.
Ethan had Down syndrome.
At six years old, that fact mattered much less to me than the fact that he cheated at dinosaur trivia by memorizing answers before asking me questions.
Our friendship was easy.
Until somebody else decided it shouldn’t be.
ONE BOY TOLD ETHAN NOBODY WOULD EVER MARRY HIM
Our teacher announced she was getting married.
Every child immediately became a wedding expert.
Chocolate cake.
Flowers.
Music.
One kid insisted weddings required trampolines.
Ethan raised his hand.
“My wedding is having chocolate cake.”
Our teacher smiled.
“Good choice.”
“And no slow songs.”
“Why?”
“Boring.”
A boy sitting across from us laughed.
“You’re not getting married.”
Ethan looked confused.
“Yes, I am.”
“To who?”
“I don’t know yet.”
The boy laughed again.
“Nobody’s going to marry you.”
I remember Ethan’s smile disappearing.
I hated that.
“That’s mean.”
The boy looked at me.
“What?”
“Somebody will love Ethan.”
He grinned.
“Then you marry him.”
The entire table started giggling.
Later, Ethan found me after class.
He looked unusually serious.
“Sophie?”
“What?”
“Would you love me?”
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