Being Henry David - By Cal Armistead Page 0,44

I have no right to kiss Hailey, to get close to her or let her get close to me. My life is just one huge question mark and it wouldn’t be fair.

I tear my eyes away from her. Time to change the subject, catch my breath, diffuse the moment. “So, Hailey. What’s with the socks and earrings? You have something against things that match?”

Hailey sticks out her feet and wiggles her toes. “They match,” she insists.

“They do not. Look, one sock has black cats, the other one has blue…what are those?” I lean in for a closer look. “Elephants?”

“Hippos. Both socks have animals; therefore, they match.”

I raise an eyebrow. “It’s about a theme, then?” I ask, like we’re having a super-serious discussion.

“Yeah, like I might wear a green striped sock with a pink striped one. Both stripes. Or a star earring in one ear, a moon in the other. Got it?”

“Hmm. So, it’s not just that you’re too lazy to find the ones that go together?”

“Well, okay, it started like that,” she admits, finally cracking a smile. “But, of course, I told everybody I did it on purpose, and it sort of got to be my trademark. It’s not easy to get away with being a nonconformist in Concord, so I do what I can.”

We smile into each other’s eyes, and there’s that thing again, and I’m not even sure what to call it. Magnetism, maybe. Chemistry. Magic.

“I like it,” I say, meaning it. “Symmetry is overrated anyway.”

I want to kiss her, so bad. But I don’t make a move. I can’t. So finally, Hailey does.

Kneeling in front of me without a word, she removes the guitar from my hands and leans it against the couch, and I let her do it. Then she puts her hands on both sides of my face. Her lips are soft and sweet, like cherry candy. I get lost completely in that kiss, the same way I got lost in our music.

“So we’re doing this thing, right?” Her breath is warm in my ear and makes me shiver. With where my mind is heading, I’m taken totally off guard by the question.

“Uh. Doing what?”

“The Battle of the Bands. After we sang together in the band room that day, I actually started thinking I might be able to do it if you’ll help me. Will you, Hank?”

So. Hang on a second. Only a few days ago I realized I can play guitar, and I’m already going to perform in public? Am I crazy out of my mind?

Well. Yeah, I am. For Hailey, I am.

I nod, and she makes this happy squealy sound. Then she kisses me again.

No matter what I’ve done or who I am, it’s clear that this funny, talented, pretty girl really likes me. So maybe, just maybe, when it comes right down to it, I’m not such a bad person after all.

11

“Here you go. I found a couple more.” Thomas brings over two more books and sets them on top of the stack he already gave me. Jesus. The guy is just way too into this research thing.

Sitting in the Thoreau room at the library, I flip through books on memory and memory loss, hopefully to get a handle on how this thing happened to me and, maybe, how to reverse it. I’m not sure the answer to that lies in these books, but Thomas is all about research, so whatever.

Amnesia can be caused by physical trauma like a crack on the head, the books say. Or, it can be a result of emotional trauma. Like if something really terrible happened, too traumatic to deal with, your brain blocks it out. It’s the brain protecting itself, a defense mechanism. Kind of cool and weird at the same time, when you think about it.

Basically all the books agree on one thing: the brain is a mystery. And what causes memory loss and what brings it back are things people don’t completely understand. Great. That’s no help at all.

What if I never get my memory back? I figure I have two choices: Create a life with no past, starting here and now. Or go to the Concord Police Department and turn myself in. They’d call the media and put me on the news, and eventually someone would see me and identify me. I’d be taken home to parents I don’t remember, a life that I apparently ran away from. If they want me back, that is. Then there’s the chance that I’m facing jail