I’m You

Shortness of breath. That’s one of the first signs of kidney failure. And I’m pretty sure I had it. Kidney failure that is. And shortness of breath for that matter. My cigar-butt stumps were almost black, and as shiny and smooth and full and firm as concord grapes, and the color was reaching up into my shorts.

In a weird way I kind of felt like Snow White or Cinderella or one of those other princesses who are surrounded by woodland creatures, so good and sweet and special that even cute little animals are drawn to me and show me, only me, how helpful and aware they are. If only Lev could walk up right when a little blue bird is fluttering down upon one of my elegantly outstretched fingers.

But actually I didn’t want him to find me. And I didn’t want anyone else to find me either. I was fine with this kind of death, bleeding slowly. I wanted it for myself. I liked the smell of The Woods and sounds of the leaves and the way more and more squirrels seemed to be growing comfortable with me. Plus I had nowhere else to go—I couldn’t face Mrs. Bellows after last night, or any of the girls who’d been in the Craft Room. And The Terrible Thing was in The Tooth House. So I might as well just live as a ghost in The Woods. Be as unreal as Julia. Two strange girls living in the strange, unreal world, so in it we’d actually be normal. Normal and together, an impossible combination for us in the regular, real world.

I ground my shoulders deeper into the forest floor, moving them in wide circles to work my way in. I dipped my hands in the pools of blood at my sides and rubbed them on my face. That way I would look far worse off than I already was and maybe some stranger walking by wouldn’t rush or anything to try and save me.

And then the wind exhaled through The Woods and cooled the blood on my cheeks, brushing the hair off my forehead and dragging knuckles softly across my face, running a cool finger beneath the ring of my shirt collar the way The Mother would sometimes do on hot days after she’d been rummaging through the freezer. It always put a smile on my face, involuntary, as though she were turning a dial around the base of my neck that made my grin grow wider and wider. I always yelped at her to stop. “Cut it out!” I’d whine, but she’d caught my smile and would do it again.

The wind made me wonder why I’d rubbed this blood all over my face. Why I didn’t want anyone to find me. It reminded me that I wasn’t the only person on earth. Because that can happen in a stripe of woods. I could easily forget that I’m just one girl, like many other girls. And most other girls lying in The Woods, bleeding, crushed beneath a rock, would be scared and worried and screaming for help. Maybe even praying. They certainly wouldn’t feel relieved, or take comfort in the idea of not existing anymore. But then again, they’d probably never seen anything like The Terrible Thing, so it didn’t seem fair to compare.

Though I really must remember to remember: I am one of many Is. In fact, to everyone else in the world, I’m you. And the wind helped me to remember that, like a loud noise or a bucket of water splashed into my face, pulling me from a dream. Which I suppose I appreciated in some ways, but in other ways I very much didn’t. I’m you, I’m you, I’m you. I’m I, I’m I, I’m I. I’m two people at once, always, and so are you.

And suddenly fast footsteps cut through brittle leaves, louder and louder until they stopped somewhere above my head. A shadow on the forest floor.

I looked up and saw Julia. Had she seen The Terrible Thing? A ball of something vile formed in my throat and my heart gathered steam, pumping loud enough to keep the death-eating bugs away. I couldn’t tell from her face.

“Julia … ” I began, but couldn’t continue. I needed to know if she’d seen it before I could speak.

“Easter. The door’s locked. I need your keys.”

I exhaled loudly and the tears that had nestled in the corners of my eyes, perched and ready to fall, sucked themselves back in from where they came. No need to cry yet. She hadn’t seen it. The Terrible Thing still might never have happened because only I saw it. And I could never really be sure of anything I saw. Until Julia confirmed it anyway. Because she’s the only person I’d ever really trusted; the only person I could really believe.

“I’m sorry I left you down here, Julia.”

She made her way down the side of the cliff, ignoring me, complaining about the inconvenience of having to come back for the keys.

“I said I’m sorry I left you here,” I repeated.

“I know,” she said.

“When this is all over I’ll come and stay with you. We can live here together.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I could hear her huffing and puffing as she moved from her legs to her bum where the side of the cliff got steep. Pebbles trickled down with her, cracking against the rocks at the bottom.

“Why’d you rub blood all over your face?” she asked, puzzled and out of breath.

I’d forgotten about that.

“I don’t know. Nothing else to do.”

She nodded. “Why don’t you count something?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, leaves. Count the leaves. I’ve already counted them a few times. Let’s see if we get the same number.”

What a good idea. How could I have ever left her here? How could I have ever lived without her? What was I thinking? I felt more like my real self now than I had in weeks. Even though I was technically only half of myself.

She crunched over to me, reached into my pocket, and pulled out the bloody keys.

“You’re lucky these didn’t get crushed,” she said.

And made her way back up the side of the cliff and toward The House.