Every You, Every Me
Page 9
I knew it wasn’t the point, but I said, “You told Miranda?”
We’d reached the bleachers for the football field. There were a couple of people running on the track, but otherwise it was empty. Jack walked up to the top row and sat down. I followed.
Every you, every me. I wondered if Jack was a different Jack with Miranda. I wondered if we all just kept changing, or splitting off. I wondered if I didn’t meet anyone new, if I didn’t talk to anyone else, would I stay the same me?
“What are you thinking, Evan?”
So I told him.
Every you, every me. Fractals. Fractures.
“I wonder who she is now,” I said.
“So do I,” Jack admitted. “All the time.”
18
I promised Jack I wouldn’t find the field from the photo. I promised him I wouldn’t go there. I promised him to give the photographer nothing but silence.
And this time, I actually kept my promise.
18A
I was talking to you more and more. Remembering times that weren’t complicated. Asking you how you were. Begging for forgiveness, if only so you’d say it wasn’t necessary.
You never said anything back.
18B
Do you really think you can ignore me?
if so, then you don’t know me.
the same way you don’t know her.
you think she was weak, but I know she was brave.
I understood. you didn’t.
I still understand. you don’t.
18C
Avengingariel must have gone to the field. She must have waited.
I wondered if this photo was from the same field, only from a different angle. Clearer. With a better landmark.
I wondered if avenging was being used as an adjective or a verb.
I forwarded the email to Jack, this time with a message:
I’m not going.
He sent an email back:
Good.
18D
My parents wanted to take a drive on Saturday. I said okay.
My mother said I should have a “change of scenery.” The word scenery made me think of a play. And as we were driving around, it made sense that way. Because no matter how much the scenery changed, we were still on the same stage.
Your life is inescapable. Unless you decide to escape it.
My parents asked about school. About friends. About colleges. About what I was reading. And as I sat there, I felt again like you. Your parents must have asked you the same questions. They must have tried the same way. Knowing there was a problem, but thinking it would be a bigger problem if they brought it up. So instead they tried to muffle it with ordinary things. They saw the scenery, not the stage.
“So it’s all come full circle,” you said.
“Would you like that?” my mother asked.
“What?” I said.
“To go rafting over the summer. To go away.”
“Let’s talk about the summer like it’s sure to exist,” you whispered in my ear. This wasn’t a memory. You were whispering it now. “But you and I know better, don’t we? How about we do away with the summer?”
“That sounds great,” I said.
18E
I imagined the photographer in that field. Waiting for me.
I knew it was right to avoid her. I knew we had to pretend like we were ignoring her, like she wasn’t having any effect.
But I pictured her there, waiting. And I knew: She had something to say to me. Something I didn’t want to hear. But something that I would hear eventually, whether I wanted to or not.
Why else do this?
Why else try to pen us in?
She had something to say.
You had something to say.
It felt good to imagine you her waiting. It felt good to imagine how you she felt when the sun set and I wasn’t there. It felt good to imagine your her next photograph in the middle of that field, eventually blowing away.
But the good feeling, like the avoidance, was only temporary.
I knew we were simply postponing the inevitable.
The only difference this time was that at least we could see it coming.
18F
When we got home from the drive, after having dinner in town, I went straight to my room. I wanted to call Jack, but then I realized he was probably out at some party with the team. The first month or so, he’d invited me along. But I couldn’t picture myself there, numb to everyone else. So I let him go. And he stopped asking, after a while.
I heard my mother open the front door, open the mailbox, come back inside. The usual pattern of coming home, as normal as my father turning on the television.
Only this time she called out my name. Then she walked upstairs. Stood in my doorway.
“There was something for you in the mailbox,” she said. Curious, but not curious enough to say more.
She handed me an envelope with my name written on it.
I didn’t move to open it until she was gone, until I could close the door.
19
Another photo of me.
Another photo of that day.
“Let’s go into the woods and take some pictures,” you said. “I found this old camera.”
“Sure,” I said. “After school?”
“Yeah, after school.”
And what happened during school? What changed?
Because when I met you at your locker, you were different. You handed me the camera.
“Here, take this.”
But you were distracted.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
And—yes, I remember.
You said, “Everything.”
I followed you into the woods.
I followed you.
I would have followed you anywhere.
I thought that.
And then you went somewhere I couldn’t follow.
But back up. Return to the woods. Look at the picture. There you are. Someone was watching. I have no idea who. But there I am.
I must be looking at you.
You didn’t take this photo.
I had the camera.
“Take my picture,” you said.
So I lined up the old camera.
“Is there film in this?” I asked.
“This way, you’ll have me for posterity,” you said.
“What do you mean?” I asked. I wasn’t sure there was any film.
“Evan, I can’t take it right now. I just can’t take it.”
“Take what?”
“Take the picture.”
“What?”
“I said, take the picture.”
What happened next?
What happened next was
What happened next was
Jack?
No.
Yes.
Your scream.
No.
Yes.
What happened next.
Stop.
What happened
Stop.
Next
“Stop!”
Stop.
I was tearing up the photograph.
I couldn’t stop tearing up the photograph.
I was telling myself to stop.
I was hearing you yell. “Stop!”
I cannot stop it.
I cannot stop it.
20
I wore myself out and slept most of Sunday. On Monday, school was a full hive when I got there. I ran to the patio, hoping to find you Jack. Sure enough, there he was, and it even looked like he was waiting for me. When he saw me, he put out his cigarette and said something to Katie, who was standing next to him. They both came over, heading me off before I got over to where they’d been.
“Hey,” I said. “Something happened.”
Something was wrong. I could tell. Jack was looking at me strangely. Like I had done something wrong. Really wrong.
“Le
t’s talk over there,” he said, gesturing a little ways off, into the woods.
“I got another photo,” I told him. Katie, I noticed, wouldn’t look me in the eye.
“Of course you did,” he said.
“What?”
But he wouldn’t answer. Not until we were away from everyone else, in the trees. And even then, he only stared at me. It was Katie who broke the silence.
“I caught Mr. Rogers this morning,” she said. “He’s back in school.”
That’s it, I thought. They’ve found the girl.
“Who is she?” I asked.
“I told him I needed to contact the person who took the photo. I told him I’d damaged it and needed another print.”
“And?”
“He yelled at me for being careless. But then he gave me the name and told me to be more careful next time.”
Now she stopped.
I couldn’t stand it.
“Who is she?” I asked again.
Katie shook her head.
And Jack said, “It’s you.”
It’s you It’s you It’s you
“What?” I don’t understand.
Now Jack was grabbing my shirt. Pushing me against a tree. Katie telling him to stop. But he was knocking me back. It hurt, but it didn’t hurt so much, because part of me wasn’t even there.
“I said, it’s you, Evan. The person who submitted that photo is YOU.”
“But it can’t be!” it can’t be it can’t be
“Stop lying!”
He knocked my head back. Pain.
“Did you think we wouldn’t find out?”
it can’t be it can’t be
“It wasn’t me,” I said.
He shoved me. Hard. I bent over.
“Jack—stop!” Katie was yelling at him now.
“Stop!”
He didn’t pay any attention to her, hovering over me, shouting. “So is Mr. Rogers lying? Is that what you’re saying?”
“It wasn’t me! She must have put my name on it. She’s after us, Jack!”
“Ah, yes, the mysterious ‘she.’ Only thing is, she doesn’t exist.”
Now Katie was in between us. Shielding me.
“Jack, stop.”
He pulled back for a moment, took something out of his back pocket, and threw it at the ground in front of me.
“Are you saying you didn’t leave this in my locker this morning?”
I didn’t I didn’t I shook my head.
“Evan, what are you doing?”
I was shivering. Shaking.
“I’m not doing anything.” I’m in the photos. “Look—how can I have taken the photos? I’m in them.”
“Well, maybe she took them.”
And I knew which she he meant. Not the mystery girl.
You.
I could barely look at him.
“You think we did this together?” I asked.
“Jack,” Katie cautioned.
He wouldn’t relent. “I think you’re just as bad as she is. No—maybe even worse. Because she took it all out on herself. You’re taking it out on other people. That’s definitely worse.
“I don’t know what I did to you to make you do this, Evan. Is it jealousy? Did you want to be the boyfriend? Did you hate that you couldn’t have her all to yourself? I’d almost understand that. But why now, Evan? Why bring it all up now? Does it really kill you so bad that I’m not miserable and pathetic like you? Is it really so bad that I’m getting over it and you’re not?”
“I didn’t do it.”
“And what about the other ones you put in my locker? I saw you that morning. How do you explain that?”
“I wanted you to see them. She left them on the train tracks and I—”
“Oh, yeah—you didn’t want me missing out. Maybe I’m the pathetic one, because I actually believed that.”
It’s not me. It’s not. It’s not.
“Evan,” Katie said, calmer. “We just want to know why you did it.”
“No one believes me,” you said. “No one ever believes me.”
Jack leaned down again to me. I tried to look away, but he grabbed my chin, forced me to look at him.
I don’t want to be the center of attention.
“You might think you were doing some kind of revenge,” he said, “but let me tell you—she would hate you for it. She never would have done this to any of us. Even at her worst.”
I don’t want to be the center of anything.
The second bell rang, marking the start of homeroom. I stayed slumped against the tree, pain radiating throughout my body.
“I’m through with you,” Jack said. “Do you understand? Completely through.”
I nodded, but he wasn’t even looking. He was already walking away.
“You need help,” Katie said, and the tone of her voice made it unclear whether or not she was offering it herself.
“I didn’t do it,” I said. “That’s what she wants you to think.”
“She’s gone, Evan.”
But I wasn’t talking about you.
I was talking about your avenger.
20A
I had to find her. My only way out was to find her.
20B
It’s you. You deserve this. There is a reason this is happening to you.
20C
I didn’t go to homeroom. I didn’t go to class.
I walked through the halls.
Looking for her.
20D
“You’re not going to find me,” you said. “You’ll never find me.”
No. Not said. Not past tense.
You were saying it now.
20E
If she submitted that photo to the literary magazine as a way of trapping me If she broke into my locker If she could follow me so closely … she had to be somewhere in this school.
if if if if
“Only thing is, she doesn’t exist.”
Stop it, Jack. You don’t know.
20F
During first period, I went to my own locker.
There was something waiting for me.
“Who are you?” I screamed. are you doing this to me? WHY are you doing this to me?
There was no response note, no time to meet her, no hint at where to go.
20G
If it had been you, people would have noticed. People would all be talking about you coming back.
20H
I checked my email.
this is it.
this is what it feels like to be helpless.
20I
I peered into every classroom. I didn’t care which teachers saw me.
You deserve this. You deserve this. You deserve this.
“Take my picture,” you said.
So I lined up the old camera.
“Is there film in this?” I asked.
Fiona found me between third and fourth periods.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said. How could I begin to tell her?
“Evan—” She put her hand on my shoulder. Or tried to.
I ducked away. “It’s nothing, Fiona.”
I am not the center of attention.
“You can’t …”
“What, Fiona? What can’t I do?”
“You can’t do this alone.”
“You know what?” I said. “I’ve been doing it alone ever since they took Ariel away.”
away gone exiled over
“What do you mean?” Fiona asked, too much concern in her voice. I couldn’t take it.
“I don’t have to explain!” I shouted, pulling away from her.
I am not the center of anything.
20J
The avenger had to eat lunch, and since there was only one hallway leading to the cafeteria, I stationed myself there for all the lunch periods. She had been at school this morning to put the photo in Jack’s locker. She had to be here now.
People noticed me sit
ting in the hallway. I had a book open, to pretend to be studying. But really I was studying them. All the patterns that you found incomprehensible. All the patterns that overwhelmed you. You thought they spelled the Truth. And I’d believed you, far longer than I should have.
Red shirt. Blue shirt. White shirt. Black shirt.
First lunch period came: nothing.
Blue shirt. White shirt. Black shirt. Black shirt. Blue shirt.
Second lunch period came: When I saw Jack, Katie, and Fiona, I looked down, hoped they didn’t see me. The only person who said hello was Charlie, and I figured Katie hadn’t told him anything.
Pink shirt. White shirt. Yellow and green stripes. Black shirt. Black shirt.
Third lunch period. I was hungry. This was my last chance, and I hadn’t seen her yet. Still, I had to eat. I went into the cafeteria and it was so strange—I’d always had second lunch, so it was like they had taken all the people I knew from the cafeteria and switched them with strangers. All the wrong faces were at all the right tables. I scanned around, acting like I was looking for a place to sit, but really looking for her.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
I know she exists. Like I exist. Like Ariel exists somewhere.
Nothing.
Nothing.
I finished my lunch.
Nothing.
Put my tray away.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Went back into the hallway.
Looked at all the people leaving.
Nothing.
Nothing.
And then
21
There she was.
It had to be her.
21A
She was walking alone. But there were too many people around. I couldn’t just stop her with all these people around.