Graham stood up suddenly and stopped the projector. “You get the idea,” he said. “There’s another hour of this or so . . . other random stuff.” He seemed a little flustered and I couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t want us to see the footage of Ally, or because he felt weird that I was there with Declan, or maybe just his drugs were wearing off.
He turned the lights back on and we sat in the weird mini theater not saying anything. I’m sure Declan was thinking what I was thinking, which was that this kid was from another planet.
“It’s pretty good, man,” Declan said. “Pretty good. You really know how to use that camera. I don’t know how you got some of those shots. Wow. I mean, that’s . . . What the hell is it about?”
Graham shrugged. “It’s about—”
“No, wait! Wait!” Declan yelled, doing his typical Declan-nerd-boy thing where he thinks he’s figured everything out and wants to shout it out before anyone else can. He’s been doing this since third grade. “I know! I know, it’s about how everyone is in and of themselves a spectacle. Am I right? How every individual act is also kind of a performed act? That’s it! That’s it! Am I right? Except for Tate walking into her house. Right? Or maybe even that! Wow! That is awesome, actually.”
Graham looked disappointed. “Um, it’s kind of almost the opposite. It’s about how people are not quite real until they are observed or filmed. You know, like if a tree falls in the woods and no one’s there, does it make a sound?”
Declan said, “Huh. Sure . . . but—”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It looks really, really cool, but what does any of that even freaking mean? Of course people are real.”
Graham looked disappointed for a minute and then regained his usual hip, I-got-a-secret face and leaned back in his chair. “So you think all people are real?” he asked me, looking right into my eyes. “Aren’t there some people who aren’t?”
It scared me—really scared me for a second. “No,” I said. “Of course not.”
“Wait wait wait!” Declan interrupted us. “This is really interesting. So you’re filming people to make them real?”
“That’s right,” Graham said.
“Huh,” Declan said. “Okay, okay, I get where you might be coming from. As a history buff, you really believe that identity is reified by its documentation.”
“What?” Graham said, sounding genuinely confused and annoyed. “Speak English.”
“Have you shown these to anyone else?” I asked before Declan could go off on some weird tangent about who makes history and what it means. I could hear that one coming a mile away and already I was tired of being trapped between these two nerds.
Graham got a faraway look on his face. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Lots and lots of people have seen my films.” Then he started to look genuinely sad. “Some of them have sold for five thousand dollars. And I think the people who buy them even know what they mean,” he said. “These movies make their life better.” He looked like he might start crying. “They get me,” he said. “They understand.”
We didn’t believe it at first. It looked like a normal Tumblr page. You opened it up and there were links to click on to watch his films. Harmless stuff for the most part. A little full of himself, but what seventeen-year-old boy isn’t?
When we looked closer we realized he had a hidden site—something that only members could access. The whole thing was under the name Copeland Productions—not a very sophisticated secret name. And the Amazon wish list was also under that name. And that list was long and extravagant. I’d say he’s been bought tens of thousands of dollars in merchandise by his “fans” in exchange for these films.
And the films. I can barely describe them to you . . . It makes me want to . . . It makes you sick to think that this is the world we live in. That all this was going on in this beautiful tree-lined neighborhood among these decent people.
Once we got out of Prince Charming’s weirdo castle, we walked back into the woods.
“That kid is not too bright,” Declan said. “I think he’s kinda dumb, actually, which I didn’t quite realize when I was showing him around school. But he’s come to some erroneous ideas about how the world works.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“Oh well. He clearly knows how to frame a shot, I mean, that’s undeniable, he’s talented, but—”
“No! I mean you just think he’s dumb? That’s it?”
Declan nodded. “Yeah. Dumb and really materialistic,” he said. “It’s that simple.”
“I guess you’re right,” I said. “I guess I always think people like that are kinda dangerous.”
“Nah,” Declan said, shaking his head. “They’re mostly harmless, just annoying. At first I thought this guy was real trouble too. But he’s just some geeked-out kid making art who doesn’t have the brains yet to know what it means or why he’s doing it. Maybe he really will be famous someday.”
“What about that thing he said about people buying his movies?” I asked.
“That? That, my dear young lady, is a thing some boys do called bragging. I’m pretty sure it is an enormous exaggeration.”
“C’mon,” I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him farther into the woods. “We already missed dinner, let’s go for a walk so people can have a chance to worry about where we are.” I said it even though it would only be his parents and maybe Ally worrying about where we were.
He laughed and followed me though the pines out into a little clearing. The ground was soft with hundreds of years of decayed pine needles and it smelled amazing. It was already beginning to grow dark when we reached the giant moss-covered stone and climbed on top of it. Declan sat and I stood, leaning my head back to look up at the beautiful canopy of branches, the blazing orange light of late afternoon cutting through the dark branches and creating a strobe effect. He held my legs steady while I arched my back and gazed skyward and then he pulled me down to sit on his lap.
We smoked and held hands, and I said, “I can’t wait until we get out of this town.”
“Yeah, baby,” Declan said. “Just a couple more years, we’re going to freaking Stanford.”
“Or Harvard.”
“Or straight to hell,” he said, grinning.
I kissed him and he put his hands in my hair. I felt like I was melting into him. I rubbed my hand over the front of his jeans and could feel him getting excited. It always seemed like Declan’s mind was racing but when we were making out, it was just the two of us. So amazing. Like time actually stopped and there was nothing else to do in the whole world but suck on Declan’s lips.
“If no one sees us doing this, is it really happening?” I joked.
He laughed. And I am sure we were both thinking about what an upside-down world Graham lived in, where you exist only when there’s some photographic evidence of you.