My other choice was to return to the old house I’d broken into, and once she’d opened the door to a dusty Nissan Pathfinder and brushed off the passenger seat, I got inside. It smelled of sand and bubble gum, somehow familiar and comforting. She settled into her seat and as she was about to start the engine, I noticed her key chain, a shiny oval piece of wood with a single word burned into it in italics: Hope.

“Do you really think you can help me?” I said.

“Of course I can.” She reached for my hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “We have a pact. A long time ago we promised we’d always watch out for one another, no matter what. Nothing’s changed. Let me help you. I’ll take care of you, okay? You can lean on me.”

As we drove in silence, Maya kept glancing at me, as if to make sure I was still in the car. I had no recollection of who she was, yet something told me I was in the right place, and from now on, everything would be okay. She seemed to have no qualms about inviting a stranger into her vehicle, which meant either she was as crazy as I felt, or I was who she and the others said I was. I put my head back, looked out of the window into the darkness, saying nothing until we drove up to a house. I saw the lights first, a string of silver stars hanging in the window. I peered at them, the fog shifting inside my head as a sliver of my past tried to get my attention, but it wasn’t enough for me to comprehend. Maya followed my gaze.

“You gave me those,” she said, pointing to the lights. “A few days after Mom and I moved in, because I was scared of the dark.” She gave me a small smile. “I never admitted it, but you sensed it anyway. After school you biked all the way to the hardware store and hung them over my dresser as a surprise for when I came home.”

“Home,” I said, staring up at the two-story building at the end of a long, dark road, hoping for a memory jolt, but none came. The house appeared to have exhaled a long, languid sigh before giving up and slightly folding into itself. There were no neighbors close by; we’d passed the nearest place about a mile ago. I searched my mind for an indication of my being here before. Nothing. What if it was a lie? For all I knew, she was an ax-murderer.

“How long did you say I lived here?” I said.

“Ever since you moved here from the UK with Brad when you were fourteen,” Maya said. “About a year before our parents married.”