eyes as if I might be concealing a wire under my clothes.
“What? No. It’s just, over the last few days, I’ve remembered some things. At least, I think they’re memories. That’s why I need your help.”
“Things about Zoe?” His voice is filled with skepticism. “Like the pool?”
“I know it sounds crazy,” I say, then stop. Probably using that word around a kid with a mentally ill parent isn’t cool. “What I mean is, I know it sounds impossible or really strange, but Zoe and I … I think we knew each other.” I take a deep breath and continue.
“The first week I was here, Paisley and I went to Jenkins’ Creamery, and they had this featured flavor, Chocolate Caramel Popcorn. I don’t even like caramel usually, but I had to order it. And then it hit me, all these weeks later—that was Zoe’s favorite flavor. That’s why I remembered it.”
Caden’s mouth is hanging slightly open.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” I press. My heart is a wild animal in my chest. This is it. Caden’s going to help me solve this thing.
He nods, then swallows. “She always ordered it. Never wanted to try anything else.”
“Her favorite color,” I go on. “It’s gold. She’ll go for yellow as a compromise, but she loves gold best.”
“Gold looks really great with her complexion,” Caden says. “She’d always say it made her feel …”
“… like a princess,” I finish for him. Because somehow, I know. I remember. She told me that too. We did meet up in December. Maybe we even knew each other from before. This is not just in my head.
“Holy shit,” Caden says. The look on his face isn’t surprise. It’s something between shock and horror.
“She loved all kinds of animals,” I continue, confidence growing. “She was great with them. But she was terrified of thunderstorms. Like, drenched in sweat, full-on anxiety attack, terrified. There was this one closet on the first floor of her house, right between the bathroom and the living room, where she’d go during storms. There was a light in there, and all the coats, they’d muffle the sound.”
“Astraphobia,” Caden says softly. “She worried about storms at sea, didn’t want the phobia to hold her back from participating in marine research trips. We talked about it a lot.”
I nod. There’s no way my brain could have cooked that up. It’s so specific. It has to be a memory. Which means this last one is too. “And her favorite poem—our favorite poem—was Tennyson’s ‘The Lady of Shalott.’ I’ve loved it since childhood, ever since I saw Anne of Green Gables. Anne tries to act out the poem and almost drowns in the lake.”
Caden’s eyes pop.
“I know it sounds morbid,” I continue, “but she gets rescued by her arch-nemesis, Gilbert Blythe. I think Zoe and I used to recite the poem together, our favorite stanzas, just like Anne did. The poem is the most beautiful tragedy. And it was ours.”
For a moment, we’re both silent. All the pieces that have been shifting and crossing like shadows in my mind are taking full, vibrant form. These memories are real; Caden’s confirmed it. In a way I still can’t account for, Zoe was a part of my life.
Then, Caden asks the question I’ve known would be coming. “How do you know all this, Anna?”
I’m silent because I don’t know what to say. Fact: Zoe messaged me in December, before she disappeared. Fact: I know things about her life that only a friend would know.
After that, it all gets blurry.
“Is this some sick kind of joke?” Caden is saying. “Is this coming from Paisley?”
“No,” I say, my voice insistent. “I promise it’s not that.”
“Because you look a lot like her,” he says, “as you know. You sure you’re not just … a little fixated? No one would blame you for being curious. But this, whatever this is with the pool and now all these supposed memories about Zoe, it isn’t healthy. You need to drop it.”
My breath catches because a part of me knows he’s right. Everything about this feels very, very not healthy. Almost dangerous. But … “I swear to god,” I say. “I’m not making this up.”
For a moment, Caden looks like he wants to scream at me. But when he speaks again, his voice is calm. “Before, you told me you used to party a lot. Black out. Did that happen often?”
“More than it should have.”
“Did it happen on New Year’s?”
I don’t say anything. I can see something happening behind Caden’s