Free Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng

to no one. It’s common knowledge that he’s alone most of the time: his mother works night shifts at the hospital, six nights a week. He does not eat in the school cafeteria; he does not go to the dances. In class, he sits in the back row, picking the next girl he’ll ask for a ride. This spring he had picked Lydia.
    Nath huddles in the cemetery an hour, two hours, three, watching the cemetery workers stack the folding chairs, gather the flowers, pluck balled-up papers and tissues from the grass. In his mind, he dredges up every single thing he’s ever heard about Jack, every fact, every rumor. The two begin to blur, and by the time he is ready to head home, he is bubbling with a terrible fury. He tries to imagine Lydia with Jack, tries desperately not to picture them together. Had Jack hurt her somehow? He doesn’t know. He knows only that Jack is at the heart of everything, and he promises himself he will find out how. Only when the gravediggers lift their shovels and approach the open grave does Nath clamber to his feet and turn away.
    As he skirts the edge of the lake and turns onto their street, he spots a police car parked outside Jack’s house. About goddamn time, Nath thinks. He sidles closer to the house, slouching below the line of windows. Behind the screen, the front door stands open, and he climbs the porch stairs on his toes, sticking to the edges of the worn boards, making sure they don’t squeak. It’s his sister they’re talking about, he tells himself with each step; he has every right. At the top, he leans toward the screen door. He can’t see anything except the entryway, but he can hear Jack in the living room, explaining slowly, loudly, as if it’s the second or third time.
    “She had skipped ahead into physics. Her mom wanted her in with the juniors.”
    “ You were in that class. Aren’t you a senior?”
    “I told you,” Jack says, impatient. “I had to take it over. I failed.”
    Dr. Wolff’s voice, now: “He has a B-plus in the class this term. I told you you’d do fine if you would just do the work, Jack.”
    Outside, Nath blinks. Jack? A B-plus?
    A rustle, as if the policeman has turned the page of a notebook. Then: “What was the nature of your relationship with Lydia?” The sound of his sister’s name in the policeman’s voice, so crisp and official, as if it were nothing more than a label, startles Nath. It seems to startle Jack, too: there’s a sharpness to his tone that wasn’t there before.
    “We were friends. That’s all.”
    “Several people said they saw the two of you together after school in your car.”
    “I was teaching her to drive.” Nath wishes he could see Jack’s face. Didn’t they know he must be lying? But the policeman seems to accept this.
    “When was the last time you saw Lydia?” the policeman asks now.
    “Monday afternoon. Before she disappeared.”
    “What were you doing?”
    “We were sitting in my car and smoking.”
    A pause as the policeman makes a note of this. “And you were at the hospital, Mrs. Wolff?”
    “Doctor.”
    The policeman coughs gently. “Pardon me. Dr. Wolff. You were at work?”
    “I usually take the evening shift. Every day except Sundays.”
    “Did Lydia seem upset on Monday?”
    Another pause before Jack responds. “Lydia was always upset.”
    Because of you , Nath thinks. His throat is so tight the words can’t squeeze through. The edges of the door waver and blur, like a heat mirage. He digs his fingernail into his palm, hard, until the doorway sharpens again.
    “Upset about what?”
    “Upset about everything.” Jack’s voice is lower now, almost a sigh. “About her grades. About her parents. About her brother leaving for college. Lots of things.” He sighs then for real, and when he speaks again, his voice is brittle, ready to snap. “How should I know?”
    Nath backs away from the door and creeps down the stairs. He doesn’t need to hear any more. At home, not wanting to see anyone, he slips