With each day that passes, the fact that I likely won't be regaining my memory any time soon becomes more apparent.
Because of this, Dr. Meyer suggested that I try to make my return to school, though Sofia took it as less of a suggestion and more of an order. I think they're all hoping that everything will magically come back to me if my circumstances are exactly how they were before the accident.
The thought of having to spend the day with hundreds of people I don't know is terrifying. Dealing with three virtual strangers every day for the past two weeks since leaving the hospital has been more than enough. My time has been made up of stifled conversations, trips to the neurologist, and wandering around inside because anything beyond my front door is completely unknown, and therefore unwanted.
After extracting myself from under the bedsheets, I tiptoe to the downstairs bathroom, not wanting to wake anyone. The house is old, and the wood floors creak and groan with every step. Once I've finished and washed up, I look in the mirror, studying the face that stares back at me once more: the vacant, dark eyes and pink lips pressed into a firm line. I wonder how long it will take me to get used to my reflection. Tilting my chin, I turn my head, examining it from all angles.
I try out several smiles but all of them feel horribly fake and tight. The only way my expression looks okay is if I'm completely emotionless.
When I exit the bathroom, Parker is in the hallway, and I stop short.
"Okay," he teases, "that is definitely an Allie look. Are you sure you're not just pretending to forget everything?"
"Positive."
"Must be muscle memory. You were always the master of giving people looks that could kill."
The mood shifts and an uncomfortable tension settles over us, one that's becoming quite familiar. It doesn't help that this is the first time we've been alone together since he tried to kiss me. Up until now, I've pretended he's invisible. Audrey keeps asking me to do things with them—take a walk, sit in the car while they buy groceries, go out for coffee—and she'll only accept the "I think it'll give me a headache" excuse for so long. Being forced to acknowledge her boyfriend has me feeling cornered.
He lowers his voice. "I'm sorry about what happened."
"I am too," I say firmly.
"Don't be. It's my fault. Just... forget about it."
"Is that a joke? I already have amnesia."
He's silent for a few seconds before he processes my words, then laughs breathily. I feel my lips twitch. The motion draws his attention, and my pulse quickens.
"Bad word choice," he remarks.
He looks as though he wants to say more, but movement in the other room snaps us out of our trance. I push past him, moving toward the kitchen. Inside, Audrey slides a bagel into the toaster, glancing over her shoulder as I breeze into the room, Parker trailing slowly behind.
"Oh, you're both here," she says brightly. "Good morning."
I busy myself with making a cup of tea. "Morning."
"How are you feeling about going back to school today?"
"If I had to choose between going to school or launching myself into space, I'd pick space."
"Oh, come on," she remarks. "I'm sure it won't be that bad."
I give her a dubious look.
"Just think about it like starting at an entirely new school. That's exciting, right? You can make new friends."
"I'm a senior in my last semester of high school," I point out. "I'm sure everyone here has already made up their mind about me."
Audrey lifts a shoulder, looking at me sympathetically. "There's still time for things to change."
Parker hums his agreement over his mug of coffee.
"Maybe," I say, not truly believing her words.
Sofia seems deep in thought as we coast through our neighborhood on the way to school.
The houses are neat and polished here—character homes with lush, manicured lawns and expensive-looking cars parked out front. Sofia is a lawyer at a local law firm, which must be the reason we're able to afford to live in this part of town. She's been off work for the past month and a half taking care of me, and today is her first day back too.
A thin layer of fog hangs above the ground, a companion to the stark grey sky. Spring is supposed to be bright and colorful, but here, March is a palette of greys, blues, and deep greens. From what I've seen of it so far, Pender Falls is beautiful in a way that feels heavy and haunting. The promise of buried memories lingers around every corner, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to uncover them.
Maybe that's a good thing.
Sofia turns to me when we pull onto a main road and stop at a traffic light. "If you need anything, you can get the office to call me," she says. "I'll have my cell on me all day. Audrey will pick you up after school. Or earlier, if need be."
"I know." She's reassured me of this fact multiple times since last night, making it clear that I can reach out if the day becomes too overwhelming, but it doesn't make me feel any more at ease.
Whether I last the entire day or only five minutes, I'll feel the burning urge to vomit the entire time regardless.
"Are you eager to get back to work?"
Sofia seems caught off guard by the question and straightens in her seat. "I have a lot to catch up on. My boss has been very accommodating of me taking so much time off."
"That didn't really answer the question."
"I feel restless being away from work," she says. "But I'll also feel restless thinking about how it's going for you at school today."
The words soften me a bit, though the weight of being a burden on her is troubling.
We arrive at the Pender Falls High parking lot, and I take a deep breath, my knee bouncing. The sight of the plethora of students making their way to the entrance of the old brick building makes me want to disappear into the thick row of trees directly behind it. I wonder how many of them I'm supposed to know, how many of them are my friends. After consulting with Dr. Meyer, Sofia decided it would be best for anyone who isn't family to give me some space until I could return to school.
"Are you ready?" Sofia asks, straightening the collar of her charcoal blazer.
No.
"I guess so."
Her expression has been static over the last couple of weeks: impassive but with sadness and worry bubbling just beneath the exterior. She pushes her door open and exits the car. Her heels click on the pavement, and I work to even out my breathing, following her lead. Heads turn in our direction from the people standing in clusters in the parking lot, and each stare feels like fingers on my skin. Ignoring them, I focus on the school as we enter, looking up at the ceiling of the atrium that casts gloomy, blue light on everyone inside.
The whispering starts the minute the doors close behind us, sparking up in one place then spreading like wildfire. Sofia places a gentle hand on my arm to guide me to the front office, hesitating when she feels my rigid posture. Despite my best efforts to block out the background noise, I can't help but hear a snatch of conversation before the door closes behind us.
Apparently she lost her memory. Do you think she's faking it? Seems like something she'd do.
By the time we stand before the secretary, a plump woman with fiery red hair pulled back in a bun, my jaw is sore from clenching my teeth. The nameplate on her desk reads mrs. gallagher.
"Allie," she says pleasantly, offering me the same kind of smile I've been receiving from everyone else, pitying and uncertain. "It's great to see you."
Sofia nudges my arm, prompting me to answer, "Thanks."
"We're going to do everything we can to make this transition easy for you," she promises. "We want you to feel safe here, and comfortable. Anytime you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask. We'll be happy to help."
Her exaggerated, friendly demeanor makes me wonder how long every adult will be this overly nice and treat me like I'm made of glass. The purpose of all of this is to make me feel normal, but normal people don't get looked at as though they're about to fall to pieces at any second. As Mrs. Gallagher pulls out a class schedule, I'm drawn to the window facing the hallway, watching the students as they walk past, some of them attempting to be discreet as they peer inside the office to get a peek at me.
There's one face that catches my attention: a boy with inky brown hair and a strong jaw in the middle of grabbing something from his locker. He looks at me when he notices my stare, and his expression is a combination of stony and calculating, his eyes frigid, even from a distance.
My mind goes blank, and then he turns away as though nothing happened, disappearing down the hall. Something about the brief interaction makes my heart beat faster. Turning back to Mrs. Gallagher, I try to regain focus.
"Your English classroom is just around the corner," she says, and I take the copy of my schedule from her hands, along with a slip of paper with the combination to my locker. I adjust the strap of my backpack. "But don't worry, I'll get someone to show you around."
She gets up from her chair and shuffles to the door, then pokes her head out of it.
Sofia takes the opportunity to check in on me once again, her voice quiet. "Everything okay so far?"
"So far," I say, thinking about the boy in the hall. The day hasn't even truly begun yet, and it's already strange.
"Here she is," Mrs. Gallagher announces, gesturing for someone else to enter the cramped office.
A blond girl enters the room, wiggling her fingers in a wave. I instantly recognize her from the photos on my bedroom wall. She's tall and slim, wearing a plaid skirt and collared shirt paired with a matching headband. It's odd to see her in motion when I've grown used to seeing her frozen in time.
"This is Zoe Harris," Mrs. Gallagher explains. "She'll be your tour guide. She's also one of our brightest students."
"Oh, I don't know about that," she says, though there's a hint of pride in her voice. She addresses my mother. "It's good to see you, Ms. Castillo."
"Thanks for doing this, Zoe," Sofia says. She checks the watch on her wrist and looks at me apologetically. "I should really get going. I have an appointment with a client."
"Oh," I say, suddenly panicked by the thought of her departure. "Okay."
"Remember you can always call me," she says. "You're very brave."
It takes everything in me to resist scoffing at her last words, because they imply that this was my decision. If I had any say at all in the matter, I wouldn't be here right now.
Sofia calls out a parting word on her way out, and Zoe motions to the hallway, allowing me to exit first. An air of discomfort lingers between us.
She holds her arms out wide, gesturing to the linoleum floors and walls lined with navy blue lockers that stretch out ahead of us. "Welcome to Pender Falls High," she says unceremoniously. "Otherwise known as My Least Favorite Place in the World, population five hundred."
This earns a short laugh of amusement, and it's a slight reprieve from the tension I've been feeling this morning.
"We'll start the grand tour at your locker." She rounds the corner, and I hasten to keep up with her. "We can grab your stuff for English. It's actually a decent class. Ms. Warren is the best teacher here."
As we walk through the hallways, it's as though every pair of eyes is connected to me by a string, following my every move. Several strangers call out greetings and well wishes as I walk by, and I nod at them awkwardly, straightening the hem of the sweater I borrowed from Audrey. Somehow wearing one of her things felt less like stealing from a stranger than wearing the clothes in my own closet.
"We're good friends, right?" I blurt, and Zoe turns to me, looking surprised as she slows down. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I scramble to explain. "It's just—I have all these pictures on my bedroom walls of us together."
"Yeah," she says, voice subdued. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable by bringing it up, but we've been best friends since middle school."
"It's okay," I say, internally reminding myself that none of this is my fault. "I'd rather know about everything than be kept in the dark."
"I guess that makes sense. This is yours." She brings us to a stop in front of a locker, and I pass her the combination from Mrs. Gallagher, watching as she twists it open. I'm greeted by another photo of us tacked to the inside, along with a few others I recognize from my room. "You'll need the red notebook and the copy of Macbeth for our first class."
In the picture of us, I've got my arms looped around her shoulders and we're laughing, oblivious to the other people around us. For a brief moment a scene flashes through my mind—a crowded living room, a throbbing bassline, a feeling of dread, faces that feel both familiar and nameless. But then it's gone before I can register any of the details, and a headache forms at my temple. I'm unsure if the images are from an actual memory or just something my brain conjured out of thin air.
"I'm sorry about . . . all this." I fiddle with the books in my hands.
"You don't need to apologize to me for something completely out of your control," she states. "Because I won't hear it."
"Okay."
"Besides, maybe your memory will come back once you see Damien," she teases. "Speak of the devil."
Turning around, I immediately recognize the boy approaching, the touchy one in all of the photos of us together. As he strides toward us eagerly, I register that his coffee-colored curls are longer than in the pictures, his skin golden and sun kissed. The boy next to him is bulky and intimidating, though the expression on his face looks more like a child's on Christmas morning.
"Allie!" Damien exclaims, pulling me into a bear hug. I freeze, my mouth falling open as he squeezes me tightly, lips grazing my ear, crushing my books into my chest. I'm too stunned to say anything or step out of his embrace. "Thank God, you're back."
"Damien!" Zoe admonishes him, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him back, allowing me to breathe again. "Slow down. You're practically a stranger to her right now."
"Shit, I'm sorry." His eyes widen, expression startled. "It's just so good to see you. After you woke up they didn't allow us to visit anymore. They said it might overwhelm you."
I can see why.
"It's all right," I say, tucking some hair behind my ear, though my pulse is racing. "I understand."
"Forgive him," the other boy says, laughing as he gives his friend a playful shove. "He's only got about two working brain cells."
Damien scowls and shoves him back. "Shut up."
I look to Zoe for help, and she gestures to the taller boy. "James," she explains, and he winks amicably. "Don't be fooled, his brain functions at about the same rate as Damien's."
"Hey!"
A bell rings overhead, and I'm grateful for something to save me from the rest of this conversation.
"We'll see you guys at lunch," she says, inching farther down the hall. "Hopefully you'll have learned to behave yourselves by then."
Damien places a hand over his heart and ducks his head. "I'll be counting down the minutes."
I stick close to Zoe's side as we make our way to the English classroom, not wanting anyone else to catch me by surprise.
"Are they always like that?"
"Unfortunately, yes." She pauses. "Damien is so in love with you that it makes him act like a complete idiot, as you just witnessed."
I already assumed we were romantically involved, but having it confirmed makes me feel worse, especially given the knowledge about my relationship with Parker. It's somewhat violating to know I've been varying degrees of intimate with at least two boys I don't remember—through no fault of their own—and that I cheated on one with the other.
"Everything's going to be okay," she offers softly.
My feelings about the situation must be pretty easy to read.
"Thanks."
We enter the classroom and the room immediately goes silent. Zoe slides into a seat near the front, looking at me apologetically as she flips her poker straight hair over her shoulder.
"We have a seating chart," she explains, sounding reluctant. "You're back there."
"Right," I say, nodding stiffly before turning to head to the open seat at the back.
The boy from the hallway is sitting in the one next to it, his head down as he scribbles something in his notebook. All of the nervousness instantly returns to my body, and I fervently wish I could sit in any other seat apart from that one. He peers up at me when I get closer, pen stilling on the paper, and I shift into my seat carefully, pretending not to see.
As I set down my notebook and my copy of Macbeth in front of me, a young woman with rich brown skin strides into the room, pulling her multitude of braids into a bun.
"Good morning, everyone," she says, perching on the edge of her desk. "I'm sure you've noticed a familiar face has returned to us safe and sound. Let's all give Allie a warm welcome back."
Everyone in the room turns to look in my direction once more, awkwardly applauding me because of the mere fact that I didn't die. Ducking my head, waiting for it to be over, I imagine myself disappearing into the floor. The boy next to me doesn't clap.
"Now, we're going to pick up from where we last read, in act two."
The words send everyone into a slow frenzy, flipping through their books to find the right page. Except I have no idea where we last read from and when Ms. Warren begins to read aloud, everything sounds jumbled and confusing without any context.
The boy in the seat next to mine watches me fumble through the pages. Up close, it's clear that one of his eyes is green, the other blue, and the combination is striking, nearly impossible to look away from.
"Thirty-four," he says quietly, then returns his gaze to the paper.
I nod gratefully and flip to the correct page, feeling unfocused.
"Do you know me?" I finally ask in a whisper.
"Everyone knows you."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know."
Turning back to his book, he proceeds to ignore me for the remainder of the class.