What’s Left of Me. Kat Zhang
that had happened that morning, considering how tightly our fists were clenched. But I had to.
Addie looked down the hall. <506> she said softly.
We pushed our way there, gathering speed as the crowds thinned. Addie walked stiffly, planting one foot in front of the other with the deliberate force of someone who had to keep going forward, never stopping, for fear of never starting again if she did. Soon we were jogging, then running, through the halls.
We crashed into room 506 with such a clatter and a bang that the teacher cried out and leaped to her feet. Addie threw out our arms, bracing against a desk to keep from falling.
“Sorry, sorry,” she said. She bent to right a chair we’d knocked over. “I’m—I’m looking for Hally Mullan. Was she here?”
“She just left,” the teacher said. Her hand was still pressed against her chest. “Really, is it such an emergency?”
Addie was already halfway out the door. “No, it’s not. Sorry.”
<Where now?> she said, and I felt a rush of gratitude. The school crawled with anti-hybrid sentiment. Our chest was so tight I felt each breath squeezing in and out of our lungs. Addie could have said, She isn’t there. I tried. Maybe tomorrow. Instead she just asked, Where now?
<I don’t know. The cafeteria, I guess. Then outside. Then maybe that café across the street.>
We scanned the faces in the lunchroom for Hally’s black-rimmed glasses, searched for a glimpse of her long, dark hair among the café’s coffee drinkers and newspaper readers. But she was nowhere to be found. By the time we left the café, lunch was more than half over.
<We’ll wait by her classroom> I said. <She has to go back there.>
<We’ll be late.>
<I don’t care.>
Hally’s teacher eyed us as we reentered her room. Addie slid into a seat by the door, crossing our arms on the desk. We waited. And waited.
<The bell’s going to ring, Eva.>
<Just a little longer> I said. <She’ll come. You’ll see.>
But she didn’t. The minutes passed, long and silent. Hally’s teacher cleared her throat. We ignored her. Finally, Addie stood.
<Addie, let’s just stay a few more—>
But Addie shook her head and gripped our skirt, wrinkling the cloth in our fists. Taking careful, measured steps, she walked out the door. <She’s not here, Eva. That teacher probably thinks we’re crazy. And—>
<Stop, Addie.>
<We’re leaving> Addie said. <I don’t care what—>
<No—no. Stop. Look—it’s Hally.>
Addie froze. I felt her mind go white. Hally hadn’t seen us yet. She stood by her open locker, fiddling with her books. Where had she been? How hadn’t we found her? That didn’t matter now.
<Addie, say something.>
But Addie didn’t budge.
<It’s Hally, Addie. Please. Speak.>
Our feet stayed glued to the floor, our lips stapled shut. There were only half a dozen feet separating us and Hally, but it seemed like the world.
<Addie, for me.>
A fist closed around our heart. Addie took a painful step forward.
“Hally?” she said. Our sweaty hands fidgeted at our sides.
Hally’s head lifted just a little too quickly, her lips twitching upward. “Oh, hey, Addie,” she said.
Addie nodded. She and Hally stared at each other. I wrestled with my impatience. If I pressed her, it might snap her already slingshot-tight nerves. But if I didn’t, she might lose her courage.
Come on, Addie, I prayed. Come on. Please.
“I …” Addie said. “I … um—” She looked around, ensuring there was no one listening. “Eva,” she said, so quietly I feared Hally wouldn’t hear her. “Eva wants to learn.”
Our voice gave out. Addie wasn’t even fidgeting anymore, just staring straight ahead, not quite meeting Hally’s eyes.
“Oh, great,” Hally whispered. “That’s great, Addie. Just fantastic.”
Addie gave her a rigid smile.
The end-of-lunch bell rang. Hally grabbed one last book, then banged her locker shut. Her smile lit up her eyes. “I’ll meet you by the front door after school, okay?” she said. “We’ll go to my house. You’ll meet Devon and Ryan properly. It’ll be great. I promise.”
Ryan. The name of the second soul dwelling in Devon’s body. I tucked it away, another piece of these past few days that I just knew were going to change everything.
“All right,” Addie managed to say.
Some boys were already coming up the hall, chatting and laughing. Addie stood by Hally’s locker, watching her walk back to her classroom. But just as Hally was about to enter, she turned and darted back. The group of boys was almost upon us, but Hally leaned in and whispered with a laugh, “This is fantastic, Addie. Really. You’ll see.”
This time, Devon was sitting at the kitchen table when Hally opened the door. He had a screwdriver in one hand and what looked like a small black coin in the other. A mess of tools lay scattered across the table, half encircling him like some sort of wall. He looked up when we appeared in the doorway, then returned to his tinkering with only a nod hello.
“Hi,” Addie said. Her voice had none of the spark she usually pumped into first meetings. With other boys, she could craft a mask of smiles and laughter. She seemed to hardly want to glance at this one.
Why? Because he wasn’t really one boy, but two? Because hidden inside his body were twin souls, nestled side by side?
If so, then Addie looked away for exactly the same reasons I wanted to stare until I memorized the shape of his face. But I wasn’t the one in control.
“Want some tea?” Hally asked. She’d bustled inside after kicking off her shoes and was already halfway to the fridge.
“Tea?” Addie said.
“Yeah. It’s good. I promise.”
Addie bent to untie our shoes, picking at the thin laces. “Okay, sure.”
Nobody said anything about why we were here. Addie stood by the doorway, our arms crossed, our hands gripping our elbows. <What now?>
I wasn’t sure. We looked to Hally, but she was too busy rummaging in the cabinets to notice. Devon tightened something in his coin, frowning as he did so. Addie and I might as well have not been there.
Finally, Hally turned and laughed. “Well, don’t just stand there, Addie. Come on, sit down.” She pointed to the chair across from her brother. “Devon, entertain her while I get something from upstairs.”
The boy raised an eyebrow without even looking at her. “Isn’t she your guest, though?”
Hally rolled her eyes. “Ignore him,” she whispered as she passed us en route to the stairs. “He’s just rude and antisocial like that.”
“Ignore her,” Devon said, still intent on … whatever he was doing. “She’s just upset Ryan took apart her doorknob.”
Hally pulled a face at him, and then she was gone, leaving us and Devon alone. Addie still hadn’t moved.
“You can sit down, if you want,” he said, finally raising his head.
Addie nodded and, after another awkward second, walked over to the chair. She sat. Devon turned back to