Understanding softened his jaw, and he nodded. “You usually drink a latte—vanilla.” He paused, dropping his hand. “I’ve seen you drink them. Stay here and I’ll order.”
I waited off to the side while he placed the order. People were staring at me. I felt like a child, unable to complete the simplest task. I wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere. There was no doubt in my mind that Carson thought I was an idiot.
When he returned with my drink, he popped the lid on the cup. “Careful. It’s hot.”
“Thank you.” I wrapped my hands around it, welcoming the warmth slipping through the java sleeve.
I didn’t talk the rest of the way to school but took in the unfamiliar scenery. A lot of rolling hills, old estates, and very few subdivisions smack-dab in the middle of signs for the battlefield. The town had been around for a long time, and there was a lot of old money by the looks of it.
There was no spark of recognition when I laid eyes on Gettysburg High. It was a large brick building that reminded me of several dorms strung together, surrounded by trees and a sprawling pavilion.
With my heart in my throat, I followed the guys across the parking lot. There was a maroon-and-white banner hanging over the front entrance. HOME OF THE BATTLERS. It had a picture of a demented-looking Easter bunny on it.
The hallways weren’t too crowded yet, but everyone stopped when they saw me. Just stopped and stared. Within seconds, the whispers started. Tipping my head down, I let my hair fall forward and shield my face, but I could still feel them. Eyes filled with curiosity and morbid fascination.
My heart pounded and I clutched the coffee cup. I couldn’t do this. Not when everyone was staring. It would only get worse. Did they know I didn’t remember anything? Maybe Mom was right. I should’ve waited.
Scott fell in step beside me, his back stiff. When I peeked at him, he was shooting death glares at everyone. Kids promptly turned away, but it didn’t stop them from talking. On my other side, Carson kept watch quietly. I had no idea what he was thinking. Was he embarrassed to be seen with me? I couldn’t blame him.
They dropped me off in a lobby surrounded by glass windows. The plump secretary’s smile was full of pity as she ordered me to sit in one of the uncomfortable chairs. Each time I glanced over my shoulder, it seemed as if the group of kids gathering outside the room grew. I was like this gruesome car accident, and everyone had to stop and look.
A neatly dressed woman appeared in the narrow hallway, finally ending my torment. She straightened her glasses. “Miss Franco, are you ready?”
Standing, I grabbed my bag and followed her back to a cramped office. The first thing I did when I sat was search for her name. Judith Messer, counselor extraordinaire.
She took off her glasses, folded them, and placed them aside. The light from the lamp on her desk reflected off her diamond-encrusted wedding band. “How are you feeling, Samantha?”
That seemed like an incredibly stupid question. “Good.”
Mrs. Messer smiled. “I’ll admit we’re a little surprised that you’re joining us so soon. We thought you’d take some time to…recover from everything.”
My grip tightened on the cup, and I was ready for this to be over. “I feel perfectly fine.”
“I’m sure you do physically, but emotionally and mentally you have gone through a terribly traumatic experience, and adding that on top of the memory loss, this has to be hard on you.”
“Well, it hasn’t been easy.” I glanced up, finding her studying me closely. I sighed. “Okay, it sucks. I couldn’t even order coffee this morning, but I need to get back to doing things. I can’t hide in my house forever.”
She tilted her head to the side. “When the principal informed me you were coming back today, I spoke with a colleague who works with people suffering from amnesia. He did tell me that it’s best that you surround yourself with things that are familiar. Coming back to school isn’t a bad idea, but emotionally, the cost may be too high.”
“And what happens if it is?”
Her smile tightened, and she didn’t elaborate, which irked me. “I don’t think your classwork will suffer. Dissociative amnesia rarely affects that sort of thing, but we’ll be monitoring your progress to make sure that the general curriculum is still the right avenue to take.”
My teeth gnashed together at the unspoken warning. If my grades sucked, I was out of school. Nice. No pressure or anything with my fragile emotional state.
“Have you been able to remember anything?” She leaned back, crossing her legs.
I considered lying, but that wouldn’t help. “Sometimes I have these thoughts or feelings that feel familiar, but they don’t make sense.” When she nodded, I took a deep breath. “A few times I’ve seen things, flashes, but…those don’t make any sense, either.”
She nodded. “Your memory could come back in disjointed images or all at once. All it takes is something to trigger it.”
The Internet already told me that. I thought about the note, but I was afraid she’d tell my parents. “I haven’t really remembered anything else. It’s like I’m a…blank slate. When I met my friends, my boyfriend, I didn’t…feel anything for them, like I didn’t care at all.” I felt bad for saying that, but a little of the pressure lifted off my chest. “That’s terrible, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not terrible. Right now, you have no bonds formed with them.” She smiled reassuringly. “Don’t be shocked if you find yourself making new friends or trying things that surprise those around you. It’s almost like being born again, but with the necessary survival skills already in place.”
Nice way of looking at it. Mrs. Messer asked a few more questions, and then she briefly touched on the subject of Cassie. “How are you handling that? Knowing that a friend of yours is missing?”
I hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s weird. I don’t remember her at all, and from what everyone is telling me, we weren’t the greatest of friends, but if she was with me, then I feel responsible. Like I need to remember so that people can find her, but no one really wants to talk about her.”
She nodded again. “You do understand that even if you never gain your memories, finding her isn’t your responsibility.”
The guilt chewing on my stomach told me differently. If I could just get my brain to work, then I’d bet I could lead everyone right to her.
Mrs. Messer slid a slip of paper toward me. My locker number and combination were on it. Our little counseling session was over, and it took me freaking forever to find my locker. I had to refer to my schedule to figure out which books to shove into my bag while ignoring the stares and whispers of the people around me. Closing my locker door, I took a deep breath and faced a crowded hallway filled with kids going to first period.
A wave of strange faces greeted me. Not a single one looked familiar. Squeezing the strap on my bag, I pushed through the throng of people. It could be worse, this whole memory thing. I could still be missing.
Or you could be dead, a voice whispered in the back of my mind.
Chapter six
In each class, I had to wait for the teacher to tell me where to sit. Once everyone got over the initial shock of seeing my face, they made small talk with me. Asking questions like, “How are you?” and saying things like, “I’m so glad you’re back.”
Only half of them sounded sincere.
School didn’t turn out to be a problem. It took me a couple of minutes to figure out where we were in each class, but the material wasn’t outside the realm of my understanding. Veronica was in my English class, and she tugged me into the seat beside her.
Leaning across the tiny aisle, she plucked at the sleeve on my cardigan. “Did you wake up late this morning?”
“No. Why?”
Her eyes drifted over me. “It’s just what you’re wearing isn’t really…”
“Cute,” suggested Candy, tossing her bleached hair over one shoulder. “I mean, it’s great for the weekend, but I know for a fact you have cuter clothes in your closet.”
“We totally covet your closet, actually.” Veronica giggled as she rapped her nails on her desk. “Okay, we also covet Del.”
“Oh, girl, don’t we ever.” Candy fanned her cheeks. “He said he was coming over yesterday. Did he?”
“Yeah, he stopped over.” I dug out my necklace, showing them. “He gave this back to me. I left it at his house.”
Veronica’s lips twitched before she plastered a huge smile on her face. “Was it hard? Seeing him when you…don’t remember him?”
I nodded. “It was different, but we got…caught up.”
Candy glanced at Veronica knowingly. “I bet you guys did.”
My brows shot up. “Not in that way. Jeez, he’s kind of like a stranger to me.”
Veronica didn’t miss a beat. “I was talking to Trey this morning, and he said Del was pretty happy after seeing you. That’s good news, right?”
“Yeah, about…Trey, how is he doing?”
Like a switch being thrown, both girls’ faces went blank. “What do you mean?” asked Veronica.
“He’s dating Cassie, right? Is he doing okay?”
Two seats ahead, a boy with black hair snorted and twisted around. His face was ghastly pale. Thick black eyeliner curved around slanted eyes. “Trey is doing great. He practically had his tongue down her throat in homeroom.” He pointed at Candy with one nail coated in black fingernail polish. “That must be his coping mechanism.”
Candy’s tanned cheeks turned a mottled shade of red, but Veronica leaned forward. Her chest nearly spilled out of her low-cut sweater. It had no effect on Goth Boy.
“Look, Pham or Long Duck, whatever your name is, turn around. This conversation doesn’t involve you. And maybe you’re just jealous.” Her eyes were locked on him like lasers set to destroy. “Maybe you wish Trey had his tongue down your throat.”
“Veronica,” I gasped, embarrassed for the kid and her.
Without another word, the boy flipped in his seat. The back of his neck turned bloodred. I twisted toward Veronica, but she was smiling at Candy.
“It’s not my fault that he wants to be me,” she said, winking.
Candy giggled.
Anger whipped through me, but the teacher ambled in, starting class. I might not have known who I was, but I knew what Veronica had done was wrong. When the bell rang, I grabbed my belongings and hurried out of the class, ignoring Veronica’s and Candy’s attempts to get my attention.
I caught up to the boy, grabbing his arm. “Look, I’m really sorry about that.”
Goth Boy was shorter than me, and he had to tip his head back to meet my gaze. Even then, I could barely see his eyes through the dyed hair. “Excuse me?”
“I said, I’m sorry about the way they acted. That wasn’t right.”
His rounded cheeks turned ruddy as he jerked his arm back. “Seriously?” He laughed. Kids moved past us. Some stopped and stared, openmouthed. “This is priceless. The queen bitch is apologizing for her baby bitches. Whatever. Don’t talk to me.”
He left me standing in the middle of the hall, mouth hanging open. A high-pitched snicker cut through the haze. A shiver of awareness whispered its way down my spine. I turned to the right, the source of the sound blocked by a chorus of shifting, moving bodies.
Catching a glimpse of a satiny red dress and black tights and deep auburn hair, I felt my heart stutter in my chest. A mocking laugh raised the hairs on my arms.
Then I saw her. She stood beside the water fountain, her pouty lips painted to match her dress—not the same dress as in the picture I carried with me. Something—something was wrong with the dress.
I took a step forward, right into the path of a bulky guy. He laughed, catching my shoulders before I toppled over backward. “Watch out, Sammy. Don’t want to send you back to the hospital.”
“Sorry,” I murmured, darting around him.
The space beside the fountain was empty.
Smoothing a hand over my forehead and through my hair, I spun around and hurried toward my bio class. Aiming for a table in the back, I took my seat and started rummaging around in my bag as my breath came out in short gasps.
Had I really just seen Cassie? The vision was nothing like the others. Hands shaking, I set my notebook down and dug around for a pen. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, got control of my breathing, and then opened my eyes.
A loose piece of paper folded in the shape of a triangle was right in front of my open bag. It could’ve been inside it and fallen out or…
I glanced around quickly, but no one was near me.
Part of me didn’t want to read it, didn’t even want to begin to figure out how it had gotten into my messenger bag or if it had dropped out of the sky. There had been chances, opportunities during the first three classes. Someone could’ve slipped it in there. Drawing in a shallow breath, I unfolded the slip of paper.
There was blood on the rocks. Her blood. Your blood.
I stared at the words until they blurred on the yellow paper. Cassie’s blood—my blood on the rocks? Waves of nausea rolled through me.
“What are you looking at?”
Jumping at the unexpected voice, I slapped my hand over the note and looked up. Two vibrant blue eyes, the color of polished sapphires, locked onto mine. Carson was sliding into the seat next to me.
“Why are you sitting here?” I asked, quickly folding up the paper.
He arched a brow. “I sit here.”