Authors: Elizabeth Scott
Tags: #Fantasy, #Fiction, #General, #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic, #Psychology, #Love & Romance, #Cognitive Psychology, #Law & Crime
As I Wake (6 page)
“This,” she says. “Look at the back row.”
I look through the window. I see a classroom. In the back row are four girls and three boys, each sitting at a desk. All of them are drawing, making long strokes with short gray sticks across huge sheets of white paper.
“You see him?” Greer says, and I know she means Ethan, the name Ava knows, the guy she knows, and start to shake my head, to lie and say “Yes,” until I can figure it out, but then stop, all sound, all movement strangled inside me as one of the guys looks up.
Looks right at me.
I know him. Somehow, I know him. This Ethan.
But not the Ethan I see. I—
I know another one. The same, but different.
Like me, here. I look like the Ava I’m supposed to be.
But I’m not.
19.
GREER TAKES ME BACK
to the cafeteria, laughing. “See? Part of you clearly remembers something because the look on your face—” She sits down at the table we’ve come back to. “Just like when you saw him on the first day of school!”
to the cafeteria, laughing. “See? Part of you clearly remembers something because the look on your face—” She sits down at the table we’ve come back to. “Just like when you saw him on the first day of school!”
I don’t know what happened when I saw Ethan, except that everything inside me just . . . froze. For a second it felt like terror, like an icy hand grabbing my heart, but then he smiled and I saw his hair, black and curling down past his ears, and his eyes, wide and warm and his smile, which was shy and happy and knowing—and I smiled back. That made Greer grin too, made her grin huge before she dragged me away.
“That was the best!” Olivia says, grinning at me. “He came out into the garden and you just sort of—” She makes her eyes go wide, drops her mouth open. “Just like that, right, Greer?”
“Exactly like that. Hey, where are my fries?”
“Olivia finished them,” Sophy says, and Greer sighs, then rolls her eyes and says, “Whatever, I’ll get something later. Okay, now, Ava, tell me everything you remember about Ethan. I mean, you don’t remember us, but you remember him? What’s up with that brain of yours, forgetting your best friends?”
“Yeah,” Sophy says, echoing Greer, and I glance at her. See the sandwich she’s nibbling on. See how she’s smiling. Look back over at Olivia, who isn’t eating anything anymore.
Sophy started with small stuff. Petty cruelty, barbs that stung. Then it was things she said during SAT youth meetings. Worries, she’d say. And smile.
And then bad things happened.
Sophy is—I don’t know. Scary in what I know, but muted here.
Greer sees me looking and frowns. “Sophy, you said you were on a diet! You need more willpower, okay?” She takes the sandwich away from her and hands it back to Olivia, then looks at me, waiting.
Next to me, Sophy stiffens, but doesn’t say a word.
“Have you—have you been in trouble lately?” I say to Sophy, who turns and looks at me as if I’m stupid.
“What does that mean?”
“I just—I thought maybe you might have done something or . . .”
Greer laughs. “Sophy do something wrong? Or worth noticing for more than a few seconds? Please!” She turns to Olivia and says, “Eat the sandwich, will you?”
“No, it’s okay, I’m not hungry, really,” Olivia says, but when she tries to pass the sandwich back to Sophy, Greer looks at her and says, “Olivia, I heard your stomach all through class,” tossing an arm around her and pulling her close for a second.
Olivia’s eyes flutter closed, then open as Greer moves away. I see the look in Olivia’s eyes though, and when I glance at Sophy and then Greer, I see Sophy sees it too. Sees who Olivia longs for. She carries her heart in her eyes.
“Well, Ava, talk,” Greer says, and next to me, Sophy grins a small, almost hidden smile.
“I don’t remember him,” I say.
“Hi, I saw you when you saw him, and you definitely knew something,” Greer says.
“It was—I don’t know how to say it,” I say, even though I really do.
“You thought he was cute,” Olivia says, her voice understanding, and when I glance at her she looks at Greer. “You can totally tell from her face. But you don’t really remember him, do you? It’s more like—it’s more like you remember the idea of him. The cute guy, the awesome friends. Right?” She smiles.
I smile back at her, because even though she isn’t exactly right, she’s trying, and her smile is real, without the tension and show of Greer’s. Without the banked anger and longing-for-be power of Sophy’s.
“Oh,” Greer says, looking disappointed, and then she grins. “Well, we’ll just have to tell you everything about Ethan. And you and Ethan. Sophy, will you get me some more fries?” She looks at me. “Do you remember how Sophy was a complete and utter grade-obsessed loser with no friends before we started hanging out with her?”
Sophy gets up and stalks away.
“Greer,” Olivia says, and Greer shakes her head.
“She took your sandwich, Olivia. Someone has to stand up for you, and until you get a decent guy, it’ll have to be me.”
Olivia turns back to me. “Now, Ethan.”
It turns out there isn’t much to know about Ava and Ethan. Ava has liked him since the beginning of the school year, when he transferred in, and so far they’ve talked twice. Once he asked her what time it was, and once, when they were all sitting outside, she asked him how he was. He said, “Fine.” This, apparently, happened right before Ava lost her memory.
Right before me.
There’s a little bit more to know about Ethan. He’s new. (“Obviously,” as Greer tells me, and then, “Well, except that you forgot. Sorry.”) His mother is supposedly recently married to a really rich guy and they all live in an amazing—and expensive—house that Olivia’s mother swears is made of almost all glass and is actually built so it looks like it’s part of a nearby forest.
“It’s up on stilts or beams or something, and it’s like it’s in the trees, you know?” Olivia says. “His stepdad or whatever he calls him is really strict, though. Ethan has like, a fifth-grade curfew. It’s insane.”
“I heard nobody’s even seen his house, so the whole forest house thing might not be true,” Sophy says, sitting back down, and Olivia blushes.
“Just because you haven’t seen it doesn’t mean anything,” Greer says. “Olivia’s mom works with a guy whose wife sold the house, so you know she’s seen it. Why are you being all weird today?”
“I—I’m not,” Sophy says. Softly, but with so much steel behind it. “And you and Olivia haven’t seen his house. No one has. Ethan doesn’t even ever talk about it. It’s like he doesn’t have a home. Maybe he just says he does.”
“Except he
does
, and you know it,” Greer says, waving one hand at her. “Clearly, the best chance anyone has to see this forest house is sitting right here.” She grins at me. “Because now we get to the most important part, the one where he asked about you.”
does
, and you know it,” Greer says, waving one hand at her. “Clearly, the best chance anyone has to see this forest house is sitting right here.” She grins at me. “Because now we get to the most important part, the one where he asked about you.”
“It’s true, he did,” Olivia says. “He said, ‘How’s Ava?’ So see, he totally knows your name!”
And then she and Greer look at me, waiting.
“Oh,” I say.
Greer laughs, and after a second, Olivia does too, Sophy joining in as well.
“If you could remember,” Greer says, still laughing, “you’d be saying so much more than ‘oh’ right now. But hey, now you’re all mysterious because you don’t remember anything and you are so going to get him. I mean, you’re the only girl he’s ever asked about, as far as I know. He’s not much of a talker. So show up at the garden tomorrow, okay?”
“During third,” Olivia adds and I nod.
The bell rings then, and everyone gets up and hugs and waves and then disappears, although Sophy shoots me a glance after she hugs me, like she’s looking for something in my eyes.
I start to call out after her as she walks away and then stop, remembering the smile on her face when she saw Olivia’s heart in her eyes. Sophy is someone to watch.
I know how to do that, don’t I?
I shiver—
memory, Morgan, cold
—and make myself think about Ethan as I head back to class. There was—is—something about him. Something I can’t quite see, a . . . a memory just out of reach. But it’s there, and knowing that is the most I’ve had since I woke up.
memory, Morgan, cold
—and make myself think about Ethan as I head back to class. There was—is—something about him. Something I can’t quite see, a . . . a memory just out of reach. But it’s there, and knowing that is the most I’ve had since I woke up.
I spend the rest of the day looking at his name in Ava’s notebook and wondering if I’ll see him again.
I don’t.
20.
JANE PICKS ME UP AFTER SCHOOL
, and I have to think of something to call her, I am avoiding “Mom” and she knows it, I see her face when she says, “Ava, honey, hi!” and I say, “Hi,” and nothing more in return.
, and I have to think of something to call her, I am avoiding “Mom” and she knows it, I see her face when she says, “Ava, honey, hi!” and I say, “Hi,” and nothing more in return.
It’s one word but I can’t say it, I don’t feel it, she doesn’t feel like “Mom” to me, I don’t look at her and think “family,” but it’s hurting her and that makes me feel bad, not like the weird, quick lurch of sensation that hit me when I first saw Ethan, but something bigger, deeper.
It’s not her fault I don’t know her.
We’re going to see one of my doctors, a neurologist I only saw once in the hospital and don’t remember because it happened back when they were keeping me sedated so I wouldn’t ask them where I was and who I was over and over again, when they were trying to keep me “calm.”
When we get out of the car at the doctor’s office and head in, she walks a little ahead of me, saying, “You don’t need to be nervous, okay?” her own voice shaking, and her hair streams back behind her in the wind.
I reach up and touch a strand as it blows near my face and suddenly my hand is my hand—a hand I know, a hand I remember, smaller and thinner, younger, but my hand.
My hand, touching Jane’s hair. It happened. I know it. I see it.
I remember it.
“I—” I say, stopping, and when she turns to face me I see her now but through that, around it, I see her again, looking younger but older, dark circles under her eyes, the bones of her face pushing against her skin, which is colored gray-white, as if she’s becoming a shadow.
It’s Jane, but not this Jane, not the one from this place. This Ava’s life.
It’s a different Jane. A Jane I know.
I see her, though
, remember
her, and in my memory Jane smiles at me, a sad smile, and there is darkness around her, it hurts my head when I try to see through it, but when she lifts one hand I say
, “Mom?”
, remember
her, and in my memory Jane smiles at me, a sad smile, and there is darkness around her, it hurts my head when I try to see through it, but when she lifts one hand I say
, “Mom?”
I say it, call out “Mom?” but she doesn’t turn around, she is leaving, turning away, I can see her feet moving, almost like she is floating, as if she is being carried off and—
“Ava?” Jane says, and she is staring at me, her face full and bright with color, red hope blooming across her cheeks. “What did you just say?”
“I saw you,” I say. “I—just now. I saw you. I remembered you. You looked younger but sad and something—someone was taking you—” Something in my head pops, a weird sparking sensation at the back of my skull that clamps pain down around my head, circling from front to back, so sudden and strong that my breath hitches out of me, my whole body sagging like it wants to fall through the ground.
“Ava, honey, it’s all right,” Jane says, pulling me up and close, sheltering me against her.
“My head,” I say and she rubs my back, says, “I know, I know,” telling me to keep my eyes closed, steering me into the building like I’m blind, whispering, “You called me Mom,” into my hair over and over again.
The pain in my head eases while we wait for the doctor, only coming back when I try to picture the Jane I saw—the other one, the younger and sadder one—and what was around her when she left, what took her away.
Dr. Jabar, the neurologist, is pleased by what’s happened, and makes me tell him everything even though Jane is practically vibrating with joy and the need to talk about it. I do, even though it makes my head hurt again, and at the end I look at Jane and realize I still can’t call her Mom in my head even though I remembered her.
I don’t know why I can’t say that word.
“Ava’s case is most interesting,” Dr. Jabar tells Jane. “This memory, today, is a good sign. You know, the only thing remotely unusual about any of the scans we did is that we found evidence that Ava had a mild case of rickets as a child. That’s unusual these days, but no cause for amnesia.”
“Rickets?” Jane says. “What’s that?”
“Lack of vitamin D,” Dr. Jabar says. “It used to be more common before the vitamin was added to milk. Did Ava not like milk as a child?”
Jane nods, looking anxious, and Dr. Jabar says, “That’s not so unusual. My own daughter refuses to drink milk or eat meat of any kind.” He shrugs. “But usually sunlight provides enough vitamin D, so, I’m wondering, was Ava very sick as a child for an extended period of time, perhaps? An illness that required her to stay indoors?”
The walls around us, neutral-colored, soothing, turn gray, and the windows that let in the sun go dark, framed with wire.
I am so tired of the dark and the gray and the walls that never ever end. And I am cold, so cold. I look around, desperate, alone, always alone and knowing I have to get out, that I can’t be here, I won’t be here, not now, not ever, I have to get out, I will get out, I will. I have—there is something I have to do. Like there is something—someone I have to find. It gives me—in the dark and cold night, when I’m shivering, I tell myself I have to leave. Not just because I want to, but because I have to.
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