Once We Were

with Dr. Lyanne coming down behind me, we couldn’t wait.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “I was worried about you —what would happen if we got caught, and how much I didn’t want you to be there if we did. And I don’t know if how I reacted was normal or not, but that’s how I felt. I don’t know what normal is in a situation like this, Ryan.”

All I know is that I care about you, and I want to protect you, and I never want to see you hurt.

Ryan wasn’t looking at me anymore. Why couldn’t he just be angry or upset or something? I had no idea what he wanted or needed to hear. Was this something I was supposed to know? Was this yet another bit of life I’d missed out on learning?

I just wanted to do the right thing. I just wished I knew what that was.

I died and died again in the silence that followed my words.

Then Ryan laughed. Quietly, but he laughed. “A couple months ago, a man in a suit came to take us away from our homes. We spent a week in a mental hospital, and now we’re on the run from the government. I think we’ve officially left normal behind.”

He had to whisper, because of course all this was completely secret, but somehow the whispering made everything seem that much more ridiculous. How had all this happened? How had Addie and I traded honors biology for Sabine’s notes on bomb making? How had we gone from high-school freshman to fugitive of the law?

“Eva,” Ryan said. “I get that you didn’t want me with you in case you got caught. But trust me, if you’d gotten caught, the only place I’d want to be is next to you. Okay?”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “It goes both ways.”

He nodded. Smiled, just a little. “You threw everything into an uproar when you left. Dr. Lyanne kept demanding we tell her where you were, and we kept saying we had no idea.”

“She believed you?” I said.

“Yeah. She did. Why not, right?”

“Why not,” I echoed. I hesitated. “Ryan, do you think we should stop? With the plan?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Never mind. It was just . . . I just—never mind.” I took a step toward him. I’d never felt uncomfortable around Ryan before. Especially not when Addie wasn’t here. But now all I could think about was how she might react if she suddenly returned. “I should go back down. Sophie’s probably waiting for me.”

He knew there was something off. I could tell. But all he said was, “Okay.”

There was a pause. Then he leaned down and kissed me, and it was right for a moment—it was eager and familiar and comforting. Until I remembered Jackson’s kiss, and Addie, and without meaning to, I jerked away.

Ryan went very still. The hand that had rested on our shoulder hung in midair.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, quietly. I looked over my shoulder. “I thought I heard something. I’m just still jumpy from tonight. You know.”

After a second, he nodded and dropped his hand.

He tried to smile before giving up and going inside.

TWENTY-SEVEN

I sat in bed long after Sophie and Kitty had gone to sleep, my knees tight against my chest, thinking about what I should say when Addie came back.

It was right for us to have our privacy. Wasn’t that the point of going under? To give each of us a taste of what it was like to be alone, to act and feel and be without thinking of the other.

But at the end of the day, my hands were still Addie’s hands. Addie’s mouth was my mouth. As children, back before I lost control, Addie had always been more capable in our body than I was. Almost always, she’d been able to overpower me when our wills clashed. But we were older now. Old enough, surely, to figure out how to share this body without hurting either of us.

Our nightstand drawer sat halfway open, Addie’s sketchbook peeking out. I hesitated, then pulled it onto my lap. Between the moonlight and the streetlamps, I could just see the pages. I paused at the drawings of Hally. At the half-finished sketch of Kitty watching television, her face tilted away from us and almost complete, but the rest of her body still flat—dissolving into nothing but lines and the suggestion of form.

The sketch after that was one I’d never seen. A drawing of Jackson, the lean lines of his shoulders and back, the way his hair was just a little too long and fell into his eyes. He was looking at me. At her. I stared back, trying—knowing it was futile—to remember those moments Addie had spent capturing his image in graphite.

My hands had drawn this. My fingers had gripped the pencil, held the eraser. My eyes had traced over his body, studied the creases in his shirt and the lines of his hands. But I would never remember it. Addie hadn’t sketched a background, only a faint outline of the chair Jackson sat in, so I didn’t even know where the two of them had been when this happened. I didn’t know what they’d talked about.

I replaced the sketchbook just as Addie eased into existence.

<Addie, listen.> I reached for her the way I had when we were children. My carefully planned sentences tangled together, my words tying themselves into knots. <I’m sorry I got so caught up in everything that I forgot about you. That I was selfish.>

It was a long moment before Addie replied.

<You weren’t selfish.> She spoke carefully, her voice soft. <You just . . . I’m sorry. I was really angry, Eva. I was worried about you—about what you’d think. How you’d react, and you—>

I winced. <Reacted really badly?>

<A bit. Yeah.>

<But you never told me, Addie> I said. <I just woke up, and —I had no idea what to think. What happened to trusting each other to tell what we needed to know? >

She sighed. <At first, I thought I didn’t need to, that it was obvious enough for you to just know. You never had to explicitly tell me about Ryan. And when it became clear you didn’t know, didn’t even seem to suspect, I guess I was angry that you didn’t. That you weren’t paying attention.> I almost interrupted. But Addie’s words tumbled out, and I held mine back to make room for hers. <Then I didn’t tell you because having something that was mine—just mine . . . well, it made it feel normal, didn’t it? Jackson makes me feel normal. He can get me to forget where we are. Why we’re here. He can make it seem like the only important thing in the world is how I feel about what’s on TV, or this new restaurant he’s found.> She was quiet a moment. <He makes me think I might be able to do it, too, someday. Just be happy, in spite of everything. Does that make sense?>

<Yeah> I said. <It does.>

We closed our eyes, closed ourself off from the world. We shut away everything but each other. Addie and Eva, Eva and Addie.

<But this can’t just be mine> Addie said quietly. <I know it can’t. I thought . . . I thought I could make it so it was just mine, but . . . >

But that was impossible.

<I should have told you, Eva> she said. <I’m sorry. I—I never should have let you wake up like that.>

<It’s all right> I said. The words felt too small to encompass my meaning. But they were all I had. So I gave them to her, along with my forgiveness, because I’d always forgiven Addie, and Addie had always forgiven me. For everything. <Does anyone else know about you two? >

<No. I don’t think so. Are you going to tell Ryan?>

<I should, I guess> I said.