I remember forward, and forget backward.
My memories, bad, boring, or good, haven’t happened yet.
So, like it or not—and like it I don’t—I will remember standing in the fresh-cut grass with the black-clad figures surrounded by stone until I do it for real. I will remember the funeral until it happens—until someone dies.
And after that, it will be forgotten.
6
I’m early to study hall.
I changed out of my gym clothes quickly in order to dodge Page Thomas’s simple request, which is silly, because I remember when it’ll happen… not today. But still, I rushed. I skipped the pointless trip to my locker near the math corridor and, voilà! Here I am.
Early.
This must be out of character for me, because Ms. Mason is eyeing me like I’m something disgusting she’s been asked to ingest. I smile at her, and she looks away.
More students arrive. I take the Pre-calc. textbook and workbook from my bag, as well as a red mechanical pencil. Thankfully, none of the other students sit at my table, so I can spread out.
I begin the homework that this morning’s note said I neglected to do last night. The other students are chatting among themselves, getting in those last bits of gossip before the bell rings.
“We meet again,” says a smooth male voice out of nowhere.
I figure he’s talking to someone at the next table, but I look up from my work anyway.
Then I suck in my breath.
The boy standing there across the table, looking like he’s going to sit down with me, is flat-out gorgeous.
“Hi?” I say, more question than greeting.
“I didn’t know you had study hall this period,” the boy says, casually dropping his bag onto a chair and pulling out the one beside it. He sits down, his eyes never leaving mine.
Do I know him?
“Obviously,” I say back, which comes out sounding a little snippy because I’m preoccupied.
Am I in the right place?
I scan the faces of my classmates. Andy Bernstein. Check. Hannah Wright. Check.
Tomorrow is Wednesday, so today is Tuesday. Check.
Second period?
Yep, I just had PE.
The boy is talking again.
“… because after the fire drill I had to finish orientation, and it took up all of second period, too. But you weren’t here yesterday. Where were you?”
I’m tapping my pencil on my notebook now. This conversation is making me anxious. I think back to my notes before answering.
“At a doctor’s appointment,” I say, adding no additional clarification.
“Oh, sorry,” the boy says, glancing down at the table for a moment. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
He looks embarrassed. It’s cute.