Phoenix

Chapter One

Moving into a new area can be a new start for many, for others it can be scary. I guess everyone has a different look on things. My look on moving is mixed. I see it as scary, yet necessary. I do need a new start. Although I need a new start for different reasons than the typical ones. Though I don’t remember my last location at all, I assume it was fine because my family lived there for 20 years. However, with a new me, there had to be a new area.

       Let me explain.

       Hi, my name is Elaine Deil. I am a 17 year old girl, and I’ve just moved to Carmel, Indiana. 2 weeks ago I lived in Newport, Michigan, my name was Shelby, and I died.

       “Oh, I’m reading about a ghost.”

       No. I’m still alive. Shelby died 2 weeks ago, and I, Elaine, was born.

       “What is this, some kind of metaphor for a teenager finding herself?”

       No, no, I seriously died. A friend and I were camping and the camp fire got a little out of control. My friend, Kate, got away. But I wanted to save my dog, and I didn’t get out in time. I don’t even know if my dog survived.

       “That doesn’t make sense. If you died, how are you alive?”

       So, basically, I don’t die. I mean, I do, in a way. Each time I die, a new personality takes over, even a new name. Memories are lost, but I keep a journal and read it when I die so that I remember what the past me is like. It’s not like I’m reading notes from me though, it’s almost like reading about someone from a text book.

       According to my journal, Shelby liked books, and boys, and she thought fitting in was really important, but at the same time she thought originality was too. Shelby seemed complex.

       I’m not sure what I’m like. On the next page of the journal, right after Shelby’s last entry, I write “Elaine” on the top and underline it. My handwriting looks different from Shelby’s. Hers looks so plain and neat. My handwriting looks girly and I write in cursive.

       I think about what I want to write.

Elaine

       Shelby died. I don’t remember anything about her, except that she died. And how she died.

       She was camping with a friend, and based on her last entry, I assume it is her best friend Kate. Shelby had her dog tied up so that he wouldn’t go near the fire. Kate was trying to get the fire to grow so she added gasoline. The fire grew a lot and it scared Kate. She threw the gasoline and it spilled, causing the fire to spread. It became a wildfire quickly. Kate got Shelby but Shelby tried to save her dog. Kate took off. Shelby freed her dog but couldn’t get away from the fire. I woke up when the fire was dead and it was dark out. I found my way out of the forest and there was a man and a woman standing near a car just watching me. The woman rushed toward me and hugged me, telling me how happy she was that I was okay. I didn’t hug back, because I didn’t know who she was. The man pulled her off me and told her that I wouldn’t remember her. She nodded and turned to me.

She said that she is my mom, and that the man is my dad. I looked them over, though I couldn’t see that well in the dark. I had no reason to believe them, but at the same time, I had no reason to not believe them. But something in me said they were telling the truth, so I decided to believe them.

       I asked how long I’ve been gone and they said 3 days. After a few minutes I said, “I don’t remember anything… I remember a girl… and there was another... she got away…”

       Mom interrupted me and asked, “Kate? Is that the girl that got away?”

       I noticed Mom was getting teary eyed. I responded with, “I don’t remember who she is.”

       Mom started to cry. I didn’t understand why. I was scared I did something wrong.

Dad told me to get in the car and they’d take me home. Except when he did, he said, “Get in the car Shelby, we’ll be right there.”

       I asked who Shelby was and my mom started to cry more.

       When we got home they explained everything to me. This has run in the family for a while now and Mom was just like me. Apparently once she had me, it was passed on to me, and the same thing will happen to me when I have kids.

       Mom said she only died once when she was 22, because of a drunk driver. But then she had me at 31, and now if she dies again then she dies for good.

       She told me I’ve already died once before. My first death was when I was 2 years old. I swallowed a toy. My name was Alison. Then I became Shelby, and… well yeah….

       Mom said she’s kind of glad that I’m like this because she can’t handle losing me, but at the same time it’s like she’s losing a different child. I told Mom I’d be more careful so she wouldn’t lose another kid.

       So then we moved. Because even though my personality is different, I look exactly the same as Shelby. And if Alison had made it to 17, I’d look exactly like her too, because we’re just different people in the same body. So staying in the same location would just screw things up.

Or at least that’s what Dad says.

       I close my journal and set down the black pen I was writing with. I sit back in my chair and take a deep breath, closing my eyes as I tried to remember what it was like to be Shelby.

       Nothing.

       Except the smell of smoke and the feeling of intense heat. I hear a scream that sounds like me and a dog barks. The crackling of flames is louder than the girl in the background screaming Shelby’s name.

       I open my eyes and shake my head, scattering the terrible—and only—memory of Shelby.

       I stand and ignore my shaking hands and weak knees. I grab the door knob, turn it, pull the door open, and step into the room right next to mine (the bathroom) to prepare for my day.