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.
Every You, Every Me
“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.”
Every You, Every Me
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.”
Every You, Every Me
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.
Every You, Every Me
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.
Every You, Every Me
“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.”
Every You, Every Me
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.
Every You, Every Me
I couldn’t stop tearing up the photograph.
Every You, Every Me
I was telling myself to stop.
I was hearing you yell. “Stop!”
I cannot stop it.
Every You, Every Me
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.
“Let’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.
Every You, Every 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.
Every You, Every 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.”