BooksBarbecue
Back Memories in the Drift Save as PDF
Chapters (39)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. DEDICATION
  4. CONTENTS
  5. CHAPTER ONE
  6. CHAPTER TWO
  7. CHAPTER THREE
  8. CHAPTER FOUR
  9. CHAPTER FIVE
  10. CHAPTER SIX
  11. CHAPTER SEVEN
  12. CHAPTER EIGHT
  13. CHAPTER NINE
  14. CHAPTER TEN
  15. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  16. CHAPTER TWELVE
  17. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  18. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  19. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  20. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  21. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  22. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  23. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  38. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  39. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The girl puts her small hand on my shoulder and pats me. “I’m sorry about all of your lost memories and stuff. I think that really sucks. My name is Maree, like Mary with a y but with two e’s instead ’cause of Anne of Green Gables. Maybe you’ll remember me next time.”

The girl skips away, leaving me staring after her, wordless. I’m suddenly overheated and scratching the skin of my arms, hating this moment when the curtain is lifted enough for me to see that I’m nowhere near normal. So I write and write and write as much as I can to try and remember our interaction until another girl settles herself on the beanbag chair beside me.

When the bell rings for the end of school, I make sure my notes are complete, then stand and stretch—the beanbag is not the most comfortable chair for someone my height. I check my phone for my next steps before collecting my things. I give Kiko a wave. “See you later.”

She smiles and says in a voice laden with something I don’t understand, “See you tonight, Claire.”

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER TEN

Back inside the lobby of BTI, I am met with the murmurs and excited voices from the schoolkids who hang out there after school. The sounds relax me. Kids have that effect on me, despite the fact that they are unpredictable and changing. They quiet as soon as they see me, and I try to suppress a grin. There’s a long-standing difference of opinion about allowing the kids to hang out in the lobby. I’ve always been of the opinion that if they behave respectfully, let them. It’s bright and busy with people coming in and out—probably the most action these kids see in our town, especially during the winter months. “Carry on,” I say. “It doesn’t bother me that you’re here. Just pick up any trash before you leave.”

I’ve just turned to walk toward the elevator when a sign on the community board in the lobby stops me. A REMINDER! FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY, PLEASE USE THE TUNNEL TO GET TO SCHOOL. Huh. We had a sign like this for a brief period when I was a kid, but that was right after the bear broke into BTI.

“It’s because of some bear that’s hanging around.” A boy’s voice. I turn to see him staring at me from under his brimmed winter hat.

“I don’t get why someone doesn’t just shoot him.” A teenage girl, her blonde hair shaved into a long Mohawk on top. “That’s what my dad says, anyway.”

The boy gives her a look. “’Cause he hasn’t hurt anybody, Tasha. He’s just hanging around looking for food.”