Through Her Eyes by Jennifer Archer

Author:Jennifer Archer [Archer, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins US
Published: 2011-02-09T13:00:00+00:00

The last bell rings. I can’t leave the drab hallways of Cedar Canyon High fast enough. Pulling my hat from my backpack and my cell phone from my purse, I hurry out of the building.

I call Mom but don’t get an answer. This morning, I asked her to wait an hour after school before coming to get me. She told me to pick up Papa Dan’s prescription at City Drug and she would meet me there. I hope she didn’t get caught up in her work and forget.

A sense of normalcy sifts into me once I’m away from the school grounds. The world outside is like a crayon box filled with dozens of colors in varying shades. Briefly, I wonder why only my life at school has lost its hue, but at the moment, I don’t really care. I’m just so glad to feel calm again.

Ignoring the wind and the stares of people I pass, I snap shot after shot as I slowly make my way toward Main Street, my mind crammed with thoughts of Tate. Ever since he stopped me from running away after English class, the prospect of leaving this world, mentally or otherwise, to live with Henry in his surreal existence seems too disturbing to consider. I can’t deny that seeing my grandfather happy and whole again might make it worthwhile to say good-bye to everything here. But could I really give up my photography? And, most of all, Mom? As mad as she makes me sometimes, I couldn’t be happy without her and my camera. And now that things with Tate are starting to get interesting in a very nice way, I’m not sure I could willingly leave him behind, either.

Besides, I’m not completely certain that the desire to become Isabel was ever mine to begin with. Henry probably planted it in my subconscious. For some reason, he wants me to merge with Isabel—that’s what I’m starting to think. Could it be that without me she doesn’t exist? That she never did? Maybe she’s the one whose name I should be looking for in the library’s archived newspapers.

The fact that I’m even wondering about such impossibilities might be what freaks me out most of all. Becoming another person? Stepping into the past? Falling for a ghost? Get a grip, Tansy. It doesn’t take an MIT graduate to figure out that Tate’s the one I’m falling for. That’s why I made Henry resemble him, why I’m imagining Henry’s steamy, hot stares. Because I wish Tate would look at me that way.

Still, I can’t deny that whenever the nightingale sings, it’s as if Henry takes over my thoughts, as if he controls me, beckons me to him through the bird’s song. I can’t seem to resist his lure.

Lunacy. I obviously do need to see a shrink. I don’t want to think about it.

I keep walking, pushing all my worries aside, emptying my head by concentrating on thoughts of Tate and the real-life images on the other side of the camera lens.

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