see.
They are exactly the same.
They were both written by my hand.
11
PROOF
Heather and Scott try to make conversation with me during dinner but I’m not really there. My mind is elsewhere.
More specifically, on the note.
The note that
I
wrote.
But
why
? This is the question that bothers me the most.
Did I intend it for me? Or for someone else?
It had to be for someone else.
Otherwise, doesn’t that imply that I
knew
I was going to lose my memory? Why else would I need to remind myself to trust someone? But I know that’s impossible. No one can
predict a plane crash. No one can predict amnesia. Did I somehow manage to scrawl out the message right as the plane was going down? Just in case?
And who is
him
?
Trust
him
.
I can only think of one person. And he’s the last person I want to trust. Because it would mean believing everything he’s told me.
That there are people looking for me.
That I’m in danger.
That I was never on the plane.
No. I can’t.
There are a million
hims
in the world. It seems far-fetched and completely irrational just to assume
that
boy is the one the note is referring to.
But I suppose if I really am the girl who wrote that note, then I at least owe it to myself – to
her
– to find out for sure.
After dinner I go to my bathroom and wash my face with the cleanser Heather bought for me at the store today. While I was in the hospital, Kiyana taught me how to take care of
myself. Teeth need to be brushed, faces need to be washed, fingernails need to be kept clean. I find it annoying that I have to be reminded of these things that seem so basic. So human.
I have started over in so many ways I’m beginning to lose count. And I have a feeling I’m not one who loses count easily.
I notice a light under the door of Cody’s bedroom. I can hear voices. Three in total. It sounds like an argument.
Cody told his parents at dinner that his friends from school were coming over.
I unlock the door and open it, revealing Cody and two similar-aged boys crowded around a giant board with a glossy white surface. It’s covered in red scribbles. Cody holds a matching red
marker in his hand.
The voices quiet immediately and all three boys turn to look at me.
‘Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?’ Cody asks. I can infer from his tone that he’s angry with me, although I’m not sure why.
‘I have.’
He releases a funny sound from his nose. ‘Then why didn’t you?’
‘I wasn’t aware I was supposed to.’
One of the other boys starts to laugh and then covers his mouth with his hand.
‘Well, you are,’ Cody replies. His tone still has that edge to it. I don’t like the way it makes me feel.
‘Are you angry with me?’ I ask, taking a step towards him, searching his face.
He won’t look me in the eye. ‘No,’ he says, barely audible.
‘You seem angry.’
‘I’m not. What do you want?’
I look to the other boys, wondering if I can trust them with what I’m about to ask. Wondering if I can even trust Cody. But right now he’s my only option. I would go to Heather and
Scott, but something tells me that they wouldn’t grant my request. And that they would ask me for explanations I’m not ready to give yet.
‘I want to go to Los Angeles,’ I finally say. ‘To the airport, specifically.’
Cody laughs but it doesn’t sound genuine. ‘Then ask my parents to take you.’
‘I can’t go with them.’
‘Well, good luck with that.’
I understand the phrase but I’m fairly certain he’s not really wishing me luck. His tone and body language say otherwise. I find the contradiction frustrating.
‘My parents are never going to let you leave this house alone,’ he points out.
‘Yes, I agree. That’s why I’d like you to take me.’
His eyes widen. ‘What? Now?’
‘No,’ I reply. ‘In the morning. Before Heather and Scott wake up.’
‘This girl has lost her mind,’ he says to his friends.
‘Yes,’ I say again. ‘And that’s exactly
They are exactly the same.
They were both written by my hand.
11
PROOF
Heather and Scott try to make conversation with me during dinner but I’m not really there. My mind is elsewhere.
More specifically, on the note.
The note that
I
wrote.
But
why
? This is the question that bothers me the most.
Did I intend it for me? Or for someone else?
It had to be for someone else.
Otherwise, doesn’t that imply that I
knew
I was going to lose my memory? Why else would I need to remind myself to trust someone? But I know that’s impossible. No one can
predict a plane crash. No one can predict amnesia. Did I somehow manage to scrawl out the message right as the plane was going down? Just in case?
And who is
him
?
Trust
him
.
I can only think of one person. And he’s the last person I want to trust. Because it would mean believing everything he’s told me.
That there are people looking for me.
That I’m in danger.
That I was never on the plane.
No. I can’t.
There are a million
hims
in the world. It seems far-fetched and completely irrational just to assume
that
boy is the one the note is referring to.
But I suppose if I really am the girl who wrote that note, then I at least owe it to myself – to
her
– to find out for sure.
After dinner I go to my bathroom and wash my face with the cleanser Heather bought for me at the store today. While I was in the hospital, Kiyana taught me how to take care of
myself. Teeth need to be brushed, faces need to be washed, fingernails need to be kept clean. I find it annoying that I have to be reminded of these things that seem so basic. So human.
I have started over in so many ways I’m beginning to lose count. And I have a feeling I’m not one who loses count easily.
I notice a light under the door of Cody’s bedroom. I can hear voices. Three in total. It sounds like an argument.
Cody told his parents at dinner that his friends from school were coming over.
I unlock the door and open it, revealing Cody and two similar-aged boys crowded around a giant board with a glossy white surface. It’s covered in red scribbles. Cody holds a matching red
marker in his hand.
The voices quiet immediately and all three boys turn to look at me.
‘Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?’ Cody asks. I can infer from his tone that he’s angry with me, although I’m not sure why.
‘I have.’
He releases a funny sound from his nose. ‘Then why didn’t you?’
‘I wasn’t aware I was supposed to.’
One of the other boys starts to laugh and then covers his mouth with his hand.
‘Well, you are,’ Cody replies. His tone still has that edge to it. I don’t like the way it makes me feel.
‘Are you angry with me?’ I ask, taking a step towards him, searching his face.
He won’t look me in the eye. ‘No,’ he says, barely audible.
‘You seem angry.’
‘I’m not. What do you want?’
I look to the other boys, wondering if I can trust them with what I’m about to ask. Wondering if I can even trust Cody. But right now he’s my only option. I would go to Heather and
Scott, but something tells me that they wouldn’t grant my request. And that they would ask me for explanations I’m not ready to give yet.
‘I want to go to Los Angeles,’ I finally say. ‘To the airport, specifically.’
Cody laughs but it doesn’t sound genuine. ‘Then ask my parents to take you.’
‘I can’t go with them.’
‘Well, good luck with that.’
I understand the phrase but I’m fairly certain he’s not really wishing me luck. His tone and body language say otherwise. I find the contradiction frustrating.
‘My parents are never going to let you leave this house alone,’ he points out.
‘Yes, I agree. That’s why I’d like you to take me.’
His eyes widen. ‘What? Now?’
‘No,’ I reply. ‘In the morning. Before Heather and Scott wake up.’
‘This girl has lost her mind,’ he says to his friends.
‘Yes,’ I say again. ‘And that’s exactly
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