Chapters (95)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Video #1
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Video #2
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Video #3
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- The Final Video
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Cover
After the car drives off, the camera drops quickly, as though Daniel is lowering it. It’s like he put the camera down but didn’t stop recording. The sudden movement causes a swirling like on an amusement park ride. Everything on the screen blurs, the landscape sweeping by. It passes over a row of parked cars and then drops to the ground before it cuts away.
Just a rushing blur of images.
But why is that blur there when the rest of the movie was edited so precisely?
Was that an accident? A mistake?
Five times. Ten times. I watch that blurring sweep of the camera so many times I feel motion sick. But at the end of the cut, which I freeze over and over, I see nothing.
Nothing.
I turn off the movie and close my laptop, with no choice but to go back to reading for class. At least I saved the best for last. A novel for my AP English class. One I’ve always wanted to read.
Kindred by Octavia Butler.
The words refuse to make any sense. They don’t register because my head is somewhere else.
That movie. The weird, blurry cut.
Like Daniel wanted to show something on the ground but didn’t.
Still, if it was so important, he’d show it to the viewer? Wouldn’t he?
“No,” I say out loud.
If it’s important, and I mean really important, he’d put it at the end of the movie where it would have the most impact.
Maybe Daniel knew more about storytelling than I realized.
Maybe.
I’m off the bed, grabbing my keys.
Sixty-Seven
Lights burn inside the house, and two cars sit in the driveway.
As I wait after knocking, under the glowing porch light, I look back out to the yard. Where I last saw Daniel. We argued right there on the lawn when I told him we weren’t friends anymore.
My face flushes with shame.
The knob rattles and turns, and all of a sudden, I’m face-to-face with Daniel’s mom, Elizabeth. It’s been a few years.
She looks the same. She’s a tall woman, taller than me. She always seemed strong and capable, which makes sense since she’s an ER nurse. Her reddish hair is a little grayer, and she looks tired. Her eyes are red, her skin pale. She buried her only child just this morning, and if she’s mad at the world and wants someone to take it out on, that person is probably going to be me.
She stares at me for a long time, sadness on her face.
And then she says, “Oh, Hunter,” in the saddest voice ever, and she’s squeezing me tight. I start to cry. She’s crying, too.