“Who cares?” he said. “And I’m tired of this dumb dialogue with myself anyhow. On the other hand, I might as well talk to myself because I don’t have a friend in the world. My parents couldn’t care less, either.” He shrugged eloquently and moved closer—too close—to the cliff edge.

I sprang forward to stop him, but with his last words I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. Because I had no friends now either. And without further transition, it happened. Will’s feelings were no longer just Will’s—they were mine, fully, completely. When this odd and terrible transference happened (for that’s what it was), I almost fell over the cliff edge myself, with the impact of a despair that suddenly hit me full force.

At the same time, the scene before me took on a clarity beyond description—the gray cliffs interspersed with spring grass and small rocks, the crooked trees newly sprouting. The bottom of the gully beneath me, as if I’d lost all depth perception, now seemed but one mere step downward; hardly dangerous and, moreover, oddly inviting.

The despair and sense of hopelessness I felt was almost sexual in the strangest way, a yearning that sought orgasmic release. On the one hand, I ached to throw myself down through the gap of space I knew did exist despite my illusion of its shallowness. But like a lover, the gully itself changed seductively, seeming closer and closer, so that on the other hand I thought that one small sweet step would end the monstrous psychological pressures that I’d hidden from myself for so long.

And simultaneously, some voice within me whispered that I must be the observer again or Will and I were both lost; but the voice was weak and did not possess the power of my feelings. I listened, but the words seemed to make no sense.

While all this was happening, I was so completely engrossed with my own emotions, so hypnotized and gripped by the temptation to jump, that I almost forgot Will entirely.

“One little step, shit,” I heard his voice say. The words got my notice. I stared. Will was shaking his head with what seemed to be happy bewilderment. For an instant I thought that he’d lost his reason completely, for the implications of his actions escaped me entirely at first. Giggling again, only this time with a wild, childish, almost animal-like relief, he plopped promptly down on the cliff, took off his shoes and stockings, and with a cackle like a starling’s, he heaved his sneakers and socks down to the gully bottom.

I followed them with my eyes. The shoes … were they his or mine? He was crying and still giggling with relief, and only when I understood that he was crying with relief, did I realize what happened.