Every You, Every Me by David Levithan Page A

Remember?
    “Happy arbitrary anniversary,” I said.
    Your eyes grew wide and you put your hand over your mouth.
    “What?” I asked.
    “I totally forgot our arbitrary anniversary, honey!”
    For a second, I believed you. Then you laughed.
    “Just kidding.”
    You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small box, the kind that rings come in.
    I handed you the flowers and you handed me the box.
    I held my breath a little as I opened it. I remember that.
    “I figured each of our arbitrary anniversaries can have a theme. So this will be our Cat’s Eye anniversary.”
    Inside the box was a marble, a bigger-than-usual marble. Completely black glass.
    Cat’s Eye.
    I gave you everything I’d collected, but none of it seemed to add up to that single marble.
    It was a good night. We talked, joked. Jack called a couple of times, but you didn’t answer. Nobody else called. I couldn’t remember anybody else ever calling, except your parents.
    Nobody else.
    When the time came for us to head home, I noticed that the roses were already wide open. They wouldn’t last much longer than the day.
    “Sorry about that,” I said. “They were closed tighter in the shop.”
    “That’s okay,” you told me. “I like them better when they’re dried up. I’ll keep them for years. Until our Get Rid of the Roses anniversary.”
    And I kept the Cat’s Eye. Until it disappeared.
    Did you steal it one day when you were in my room? Or did I lose it? Either way, isn’t it my fault for not noticing?
    Why was I thinking about this?
    Oh, yes—the roses.
    Something to keep.
    Something gone.

11
    Jack and I had an advantage over the photographer: We had four photographs she didn’t know we had. I was assuming it was a she because handwriting doesn’t lie.
    But, of course, the advantage meant nothing if we didn’t know what to do with it.

11A
    I took Sparrow’s photo to lunch. There was no way Jack could have asked his friends about it—it would be too out of character; there would be too many questions. So I was left showing it to my friends. They wouldn’t think there was anything out of the ordinary about me being out of the ordinary. I didn’t tell them where I’d gotten it—I just said I was wondering if any of them had seen this guy around. And as they responded, I couldn’t help thinking about you you you and how they knew you.
    Matt was actually your first boyfriend—or “first ex-boyfriend,” as you would tease him. In fifth grade. Or maybe sixth. It lasted a few months, just so you could get something from him for Valentine’s Day. I think it was over on February 15th. He would tease you about it, even when you weren’t in the mood for teasing. He couldn’t tell the difference. said, “Dude, look at that hair! I’ve never seen anyone at this school try that out.”
    Fiona had been friends with you—maybe even good friends—until you started spending all your time with Jack and, to a lesser extent, me. She was shaken after everything that happened, but not to the point that she felt the guilt as well as the shock. studied the picture for a while. Then she turned it over, read the caption, and handed it back to me. “Nothing,” she said. “Sorry.”
    Katie thought you were a downer. She even said it to me once, shortly before: “I just can’t spend too much time with her. She’s a downer.” I give her points for being the one to admit it. But did she ever ask herself why? said, “He kind of looks like you. Not the hair, obviously. But there’s something about him that reminds me of you.”
    Charlie was drunk one time and asked me why I wasn’t the one sleeping with you. That’s how he put it. told Katie she was out of her mind. But he didn’t recognize Sparrow, either.
    Who else would know? When you were here, in this cafeteria, Please come back. Please. you’d usually sit with Jack and his friends. When he talked to you, you seemed to fit in, but when someone else was talking, or he would be