Free I Will Save You by Matt de la Pena

wave at the person with his duffel-bag hand, which would raise the bag just over the sensors, and he’d walk out all calm and motion with his head for me to follow and I would.
    We’d wander behind all the stores toward the lagoon, where there was nothing but bushes and birds and bad-smelling stagnant water that had collected from the ocean on the other side of the highway. We’d head for this one small bush that had purple flowers, where Devon was stashing all the stuff he stole. He’d open the duffel and pull out his new items and admire them for a minute and then add them to his stack, telling me to quit acting all offended when he and I both knew deep down I had as much thief in me as he did, maybe more.
    On our way to the next surf shop I’d explain to him all the reasons why that wasn’t true, and he’d just roll his eyes and tell me: “Why are you here, then?”
    “What do you mean?” I’d say back.
    “You didn’t have to come, right? But you did.”
    I wouldn’t know what to say back, since I was so tired from sleepwalking, so I’d just keep following.
    Everything went that same way, Devon smiling while he stole and me watching the door, until we got to the fifth store and then it changed.
    First of all, the worker wasn’t some young beach girl like at the rest of the stores. She was a tall parent-aged lady who had slumped shoulders and a permanent scowl on her face (I wonder what Mr. Red would say that kind of face was saying). From the second Devon stepped in the store she never took her eyes off him.
    I started getting nervous.
    At one point I even whistled the start of “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” but when Devon looked up at me and I motioned toward the worker lady he just rolled his eyes, then went back to sifting through a rack of jeans.
    I turned back to the parking lot, thinking about Devon’s psychological disorder, the one my Horizons therapist explained during one of my appointments with her. She said Devon had a strong death drive, which made him do risky, self-destructive things because, unconsciously, he thought ending his life was the only way to restore order in his idea of the world.
    The second she explained that, I knew it was right.
    How I Know Devon Has a Death Drive
    Devon says his first childhood memory is him in a group home with some counselor standing over him explaining how to mop the bathroom tile. He knows he was born to a mom and dad, like any other kid, but he doesn’t remember them. He said he knows it’s a defense mechanism, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t need anybody.
    Also, Devon once told me he hardly even considers himself a real person ’cause if he disappeared one day nobody would call an AMBER Alert or even wonder where he was.Maybe a counselor would eventually have to do some paperwork but that’s it. According to Devon the definition of being a real person is if somebody would notice when you’re gone, like that saying about a tree falling in the forest.
    Devon claims one day he’ll be the falling tree.
    And since nobody will be there to hear it, his life won’t really have made a sound.
    Sometimes he tries to say it’s the same with me, and that’s why we understand each other, and why we’re friends, but he’s wrong about that.
    First off, I had a real mom and dad. For over half my life. And even though my dad sometimes hit me and my mom, I still remember good things like him teaching me how to throw and how to fix the leaking pipe in the kitchen. And my mom took me everywhere she went and always said she’d do anything for me.
    Actually, the only person I know who’s like Devon is my dad. According to my Horizons therapist he had a death drive, too, and that’s why he did drugs and committed domestic abuse and lived with all those different women.
    My therapist says I was most likely drawn to Devon because his behavior felt familiar.
    I even tried to explain that one time to Devon, but he covered his ears and acted like he was singing