And the other person was Kane.
The flesh of Kane’s inner cheek was ragged from his grinding teeth, the bite of blood hitting his tongue a second before he could rouse himself from the shock. He glanced at the old camera on the shelf, then looked at the back of the photo and saw a date: July, just two months ago.
His eyes squeezed shut on their own, unable to see what Kane’s mind was already beginning to know. He could hear two things: his heartbeat, and Sophia reaching the height of a major scale.
He dove back into the drawers, pulling them all out and tipping the box upside down until dozens more photos fluttered to the carpet. He spread them out, his dread replaced by a white-hot exhilaration.
There was Ursula, blushing while a clown hugged her. In another, a cloud of electric blue cotton candy hid a person’s face. In yet another, Kane straddled a waxy unicorn on a carousel, mouth open wide. A fourth showed Ursula holding Kane in her arms while a mechanical dragon glowed red and exhaled steam.
And finally: Ursula with her back to a ring-toss game; one hand was on her hip and the other proudly brandished a bag toward the camera. The bag was swollen with water, a black fish fluttering in its belly.
Sophia’s scales shifted into a minor key, and with them Kane’s exhilaration ebbed into a bristling fear. He looked around his room, at the clutter of a life he did not recognize.
Ursula Abernathy was not who he thought she was.
But neither was he.
• Five •
ALWAYS FEED THE BIRDS
Amity Regional High was an old beast, summoned from bricks and concrete in 1923 and then barnacled with new additions as the town’s population rose. Kane and his father sat in a rental car in the school driveway, watching the mist rise in the morning breeze. It looked suspiciously idyllic.
His dad inched them closer to the doors, killing the engine and throwing Kane a look of grim resignation before asking, “You’re sure about this?”
No.
“Yes,” Kane said.
“Your mother said just yesterday you were begging not to go back. She talked to the principal. You’re allowed to take another week at home.”
“No, I want to go back.”
No one knew about the photos he’d found; therefore, no one in Kane’s family understood his overnight enthusiasm for returning to school, least of all his dad. The two shared a love of avoidance that was practically hereditary in the Montgomery men. Kane hid in the lush worlds of fantasy; his father dwelled in the sparse dimension of architectural drawings. Kane used to imagine them hanging out in that dimension, perched atop translucent buildings made of frost-blue lines and panes of papery whiteness.
“Earth to kiddo.”
“What?”
“Do you know him?”
His dad pointed at a boy who had just materialized on the school steps. Kane hadn’t even seen him walk by.
Why do parents think their kids know every other kid? Then he realized: if he knew this person, would he even remember? He took a closer look. The boy was staring at the car. Really staring. The clean light of morning lay over a face of brown skin and sharp angles, illuminating two gray-green eyes.
Like sea foam, Kane thought.
The boy must have been deep in thought; tension lined his jaw and neck. Distance yawned in those eyes.
“Don’t know him,” Kane said. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
Kane hurried his dad into the office, where they had to fill out a bunch of paperwork ensuring that Kane was approved to return to school. Or something. He only half listened, unable to stop looking down the hallway, his heart jumping every time someone crossed his periphery.
“Nurse’s office next,” his dad said, squinting at some forms.
Kane brought him there, losing himself in murky dread as he thought of the photos. He had them in his backpack, ready for when he ran into Ursula and could confront her. He was rehearsing what he’d say. You know me. You knew me. He was replaying their conversation on the path over and over. You told me where to look. You knew.
Amid a discussion with the nurses about medications, Kane found that he was absolutely furious. The joy of finding out that he had a friend was totally eclipsed by the realization that she had let him believe he was all alone, giving him only a riddle to work out for himself.
Or maybe Kane was making it up. Maybe, like him, Ursula had no idea they were friends. Maybe, like him, her memory was messed up.
Beneath his doubt, Kane knew this wasn’t true. Ursula had been on that path for a reason, and that reason was Kane. So why not just tell him?
Back outside the school, his dad pulled him into a tight hug while Kane’s body continued to thrum with suppressed rage.
“Kane, you’re shaking.”
“Nerves.”
“You’re going to do great, okay? And if you want to come home, just text us.”
“Okay.”
This was the moment for a heartfelt goodbye, but Kane had just noticed a familiar head of orange hair among the crowd of kids at the bike rack. He gave his dad a bright smile, said he’d be home later, and ran off.
Fifty feet. Twenty feet. Kane pierced through the milling students in the parking lot, rehearsing under his breath as he closed in on Ursula. Ten feet. She was barely done locking up her bike when he stopped short, the rack between them.
The instant she saw him, Kane knew he was right. Her face opened in shock, then closed in careful neutrality.
“Hey, welcome back.”
The words Kane had prepared vanished in this throat. All he could think to say was: “I have some questions.”
Ursula shouldered her bag and walked away from Kane, who was failing at the confrontation he had imagined dozens of times. Luckily, she turned back.
“You know the old court?”
The old courtyard. Not really a courtyard. Just a slab of concrete penned in by three windowless walls that opened to the wooded area behind the school. An optimal meeting spot for cutting class, smoking, and hooking up. Or so Kane assumed. He’d never done any of that. But he knew what it was.
“Meet me there after homeroom,” she said before he could even nod, and then she walked away.
Homeroom was clearly expecting Kane. He burst in, mind buzzing, and only realized there was nervous applause when it ended and a big silence settled.
Everyone watched him, waiting for him to say something.
“Thank you for the card,” he mumbled.
Viv Adams raised her hand. Ms. Cohen, who had frozen while writing WELCOME BACK KANE!!!! on the whiteboard, seemed hesitant to call on her but did anyways.