THE BOY IN THE PHOTOGRAPH

I didn't move.

Neither did Ethan.

The bus was already gone, but I could still hear the sound of its engine somewhere in the distance.

My phone was still in my hand.

The message was still glowing on the screen.

Whatever Ethan tells you, don't believe him.

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

For several seconds, neither of us said anything.

Then Ethan slowly pointed at my phone.

"Who sent that?"

"I don't know."

He frowned.

"Show me."

"No."

Something changed in his expression.

Not anger.

Fear.

"Show me, Mia."

I took a step back.

"How do you know my name?"

He didn't answer.

"How do you know about the bus?"

Silence.

"And why do you have a picture of me?"

His eyes dropped.

The photograph was still in his hand.

I reached for it.

He hesitated before giving it to me.

I stared at the picture again.

The little girl in it couldn't have been older than seven.

She was sitting beside a boy near a lake.

The boy was Ethan.

I knew that now.

But the girl...

Was me.

There was no doubt.

Same brown eyes.

Same small scar above my eyebrow.

Even the little silver bracelet around my wrist was one I'd seen in old childhood pictures.

Except I'd never seen this picture before.

I turned it over.

There was writing on the back.

Three words.

June 14, 2016.

My fingers went cold.

"Where is this?"

"Lakewood."

I looked up.

"I've never been there."

"You have."

"No."

"You don't remember."

I laughed nervously.

"Everyone keeps saying that."

Ethan stared at me.

"Everyone?"

"The messages."

His face changed.

"What messages?"

I showed him the screen.

He read it.

His jaw tightened.

"How long have you been getting them?"

"Since last night."

"How many?"

"Four."

He looked away.

"That's impossible."

"That's exactly what I thought."

He handed the phone back to me.

"Delete the conversation."

I stared at him.

"What?"

"Delete it."

"Why?"

"Because whoever is sending those messages wants you to trust them."

I shook my head.

"You literally appeared at my bus stop this morning and told me not to get on the bus."

"I was trying to stop you."

"How did you know?"

He didn't answer.

"Ethan."

He looked at me.

"I know more than I should."

"That's not reassuring."

"I know."

A car passed on the road.

For a moment, its headlights illuminated his face.

He looked exhausted.

Like he hadn't slept either.

"Where do you live?" I asked.

"Not far."

"School?"

"Same as you."

My eyebrows rose.

"You go to my school?"

"Yes."

"Then why have I never seen you?"

His eyes met mine.

"You've seen me."

The words made my stomach twist.

"No, I haven't."

"You just don't remember."

I hated that sentence.

I hated how calmly he said it.

As if my own memories were something he could argue about.

I looked at the photograph again.

"Why don't I remember this?"

Ethan took a breath.

"Because something happened."

"What?"

He looked toward the road.

"I can't tell you."

I stared at him.

"You're kidding."

"I'm not."

"You expect me to trust you while refusing to tell me anything?"

"No."

He looked directly at me.

"I expect you not to trust me."

That answer caught me off guard.

"What?"

"That's the only way you'll stay safe."

Before I could respond, he walked away.

"Ethan!"

He stopped.

I held up the photograph.

"You forgot this."

He turned around.

"No."

He shook his head.

"Keep it."

"Why?"

"Because eventually, you'll remember."

Then he left.

---

I spent the rest of the day trying to prove that I was imagining everything.

It didn't work.

At school, everything looked normal.

Students crowded the hallways.

Teachers complained about homework.

Someone was arguing near the lockers.

Someone else was laughing too loudly.

Normal.

Completely normal.

Except I couldn't stop thinking about the photograph.

I pulled it out of my bag during lunch.

June 14, 2016.

I searched through my phone.

Nothing.

I opened my old photos.

Birthday parties.

Family trips.

School pictures.

Christmas.

Summer.

But nothing from Lakewood.

I searched the word.

Lakewood.

No results.

I tried again.

Nothing.

I put my phone down.

Maybe Ethan had found an old picture online.

Maybe he'd edited it.

Maybe the girl wasn't me.

Maybe-

"Mia?"

I looked up.

My best friend, Chloe, was standing beside the table.

"You've been staring at that picture for five minutes."

I quickly turned it over.

"What picture?"

"The one you just hid."

"I wasn't hiding anything."

She sat across from me.

"You're terrible at lying."

I smiled.

"Thanks."

She leaned closer.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing."

She didn't believe me.

But before she could ask again, the bell rang.

I shoved the photograph into my notebook.

I stood up.

And that's when I saw him.

Ethan.

At the end of the hallway.

He was talking to a teacher.

For some reason, he looked up.

Our eyes met.

His expression immediately changed.

He looked at the notebook in my hands.

Then at me.

Then he shook his head.

Slowly.

Don't.

I didn't understand.

I opened my mouth to call him.

But someone walked between us.

When I looked again, he was gone.

---

After school, I went home.

My mother was working in the living room.

"How was school?"

"Fine."

She looked at me.

"Just fine?"

"Yeah."

I went upstairs.

Closed my bedroom door.

Locked it.

Then I put the photograph on my desk.

I stared at it.

There had to be an explanation.

There always was.

I opened my laptop.

I searched:

Lakewood June 14 2016

Nothing useful.

I searched local news.

Nothing.

I searched old school records.

Nothing.

Then I noticed something.

In the photograph, behind the two children, there was a small wooden sign.

I zoomed in.

The picture became blurry.

But I could just make out a few letters.

L...K...E...W...D

Lakewood.

Below it was another line.

I couldn't read it.

I grabbed my phone and took a picture of the photograph.

Then zoomed in.

The second line became slightly clearer.

PRIVATE PROPERTY - NO ENTRY

I frowned.

Why would two children be there?

And why couldn't I remember?

I turned the photograph over.

There was something else I'd missed.

A tiny handwritten sentence underneath the date.

I hadn't noticed it before.

I read it slowly.

We promised we'd come back.

My heart stopped.

We?

Who had written that?

Me?

Ethan?

I looked at the photograph again.

The two children were sitting very close together.

The little boy was holding something.

I zoomed in.

A small silver necklace.

My necklace.

I touched the one around my neck.

I'd had it for years.

My mother always told me it was a gift from my father.

Except my father had died when I was six.

I had no memory of him giving it to me.

My hands began shaking.

I opened my bedroom door.

"Mom?"

She looked up from downstairs.

"What?"

I held the photograph.

"Have I ever been to Lakewood?"

She went completely still.

It lasted only a second.

But I saw it.

That tiny pause.

That flash of fear.

Then she smiled.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course."

I watched her carefully.

"Do you know someone named Ethan?"

Her face changed.

This time, I knew I hadn't imagined it.

She dropped the papers in her hands.

"What did you say?"

"Ethan."

She stared at me.

Then she walked toward me.

Slowly.

"Where did you hear that name?"

"At school."

It was a lie.

Her eyes stayed on mine.

"Stay away from him."

My heart started pounding.

"Why?"

She didn't answer.

"Mom."

"Just stay away from him, Mia."

"But why?"

She looked at the photograph.

And suddenly, all the color disappeared from her face.

"Where did you get that?"

I didn't answer.

She took one step closer.

"Where did you get that photograph?"

I held it tighter.

"Who is the boy?"

My mother looked at me.

And for the first time in my life, I saw fear in her eyes.

Not confusion.

Not surprise.

Fear.

She whispered one word.

"Ethan."

I couldn't breathe.

"You know him."

She looked away.

"I said stay away from him."

"Mom, what happened?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying."

She flinched.

I had never spoken to her like that before.

She turned toward the kitchen.

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Then I'll find out myself."

She stopped.

Slowly, she looked back at me.

"Mia..."

I waited.

Her voice became quieter.

"You weren't supposed to remember him."

My entire body went cold.

"What did you say?"

But she was already walking away.

I stood frozen in the hallway.

Then my phone vibrated.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

I looked down.

Unknown number.

A new message.

You asked your mother about Ethan.

I stopped breathing.

Another message appeared.

That was a mistake.

Then another.

She knows what happened.

I stared at the screen.

My hands were shaking.

Then the final message appeared.

And she knows why you forgot.

I looked toward the stairs.

My mother was gone.

I looked back at the photograph.

Two children beside a lake.

A promise written on the back.

We promised we'd come back.

And suddenly, something flashed through my mind.

Water.

A wooden dock.

A little boy laughing.

A girl's voice.

My voice.

And Ethan saying-

"Don't let go."

I dropped the photograph.

The memory disappeared as quickly as it had come.

I stood there, trying to breathe.

Then my phone vibrated one more time.

I looked down.

This message wasn't from the unknown number.

It was from a contact already saved in my phone.

Ethan.

Three words.

I remember everything. :::