I took that as an invitation and fell into step beside him.
We walked in comfortable silence for a while, and I found myself relaxing for the first time all day. The path wound deeper into the trees, following what looked like a deer trail that had been worn smooth by years of use. Ancient pines towered overhead, their branches so thick they blocked most of the sky, creating a green-tinted twilight that felt separate from the outside world.
“This is beautiful,” I said quietly, lifting my camera to capture the way light slanted through the trees. “I've never seen forest like this.”
The words came out softer than I'd intended, carrying more wonder than I usually let show. But something about this place made pretending seem pointless.
“It feels old,” I continued, voice barely above a whisper. “Like it has stories.”
Evan's steps faltered for just a moment, and when I glanced at him, his expression had gone carefully thoughtful.
We walked in silence for another few minutes, the only sounds our footsteps on the needle-carpeted path and the distant rustle of wind through branches. I lifted my camera occasionally, but found myself taking fewer pictures than usual, more content to just be present in the moment.
When we reached a small clearing where the path branched in three directions, Evan finally stopped.
“Thank you,” I said, lowering my camera and looking around at our surroundings. “For letting me come with you. I know you probably prefer being alone.”
Evan pulled out his notebook and wrote something, then hesitated before showing it to me.
Why did you follow me?
The question was direct but not accusatory, and I found myself wanting to give him an honest answer instead of deflecting with humor.
“Because,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “you're the first person here who doesn't make me feel like I have to perform.”
It was more honesty than I'd planned to give him, more vulnerability than was probably smart. But something about the way he was looking at me made the truth feel safe.
“Everyone else wants something from me,” I continued, voice quieter now. “The teachers want me to be the perfect student, my dad wants me to make friends, the other kids want me to be either entertainment or a threat. But you...” I gestured vaguely in his direction. “You just let me be.”
Evan stared at me for a long moment, then wrote something else in his notebook.
Most people don't understand quiet.
I read the words twice, feeling something settle in my chest like a piece clicking into place.
“I do,” I said simply. “Sometimes quiet is the only honest thing left.”
Evan looked at me for a long moment, really looked, like he was measuring whether I was worth the risk of letting someone in.
He almost smiled then, a real smile that transformed his entire face and made something warm unfurl in my chest.
I have to go. Family stuff.Will you be okay getting back? The main path leads straight to town.
The concern in those simple words made my throat tight with something I couldn't name. When was the last timesomeone had worried about me getting lost, about whether I'd be safe walking alone?
“I'll be fine,” I said, touched despite myself. “I'm pretty good with directions. And I have my phone if I get completely turned around.”
He nodded, but hesitated for a moment like he wanted to write something else. Instead, he just gave me that almost-smile again and started walking away, disappearing into the trees.
I stood in the clearing for another minute, watching the shadows where he'd vanished, then lifted my camera one last time. Click—the trees where he'd stood, light and shadow intertwined like promises. Click—the path that led deeper into mysteries I wasn't sure I was brave enough to explore.
But I wanted to be. Because for the first time since moving to Hollow Pines, I'd found something that felt like home.
Someone who made the loneliness feel less sharp.
Later that night, I sat in my room uploading photos to my laptop while my parents talked quietly downstairs. The pictures from the forest filled my screen one by one—light through trees, shadows on bark, the endless green depths of a place that felt older than time.
And there, in the last shot I'd taken, barely visible in the frame but unmistakably present, was the silhouette of a boy walking away into darkness.
