Never Never_ Part Three - Colleen Hoover Page 0,15
the car. “I want to know everything your father said. Let’s head back and you can write down everything he told you while I drive.”
She slides her fingers through mine and walks back to the car with me. When we return, Janette is leaning against the passenger door. She’s glaring at both of us. “So you seriously can’t remember anything? Either of you?” Her attention is focused solely on Charlie now.
I motion for her and Landon to sit in the backseat this time. I open the driver door as Charlie responds to her. “No. We can’t. And I swear I’m not making this up for kicks, Janette. I don’t know what kind of sister I’ve been to you, but I swear I wouldn’t make this up.”
Janette eyes Charlie for a moment and then says, “You’ve been a really shitty sister the last couple of years. But I guess if everything Landon just told me is true and you really can’t remember anything, then that explains why not a single one of you dick faces has told me happy birthday today.” She opens the door to the back seat, climbs inside, and then slams it.
“Ouch,” Charlie says.
“Yeah,” I agree. “You forgot your little sister’s birthday? That’s pretty selfish of you, Charlie.”
She slaps me playfully in the chest. I grab her hand, and I swear there’s a moment that passes between us. A single second where she looks at me like she can feel what she once felt for me.
But then she blinks, pulls her hand from mine, and climbs in the car.
It’s not really my fault that the universe is punishing me. Us.
Silas and me.
I keep forgetting that Silas is screwed too, which probably means I’m a narcissist. Great. I think about the sister in the car with me who is having a really shitty birthday. And the half-sister who lives in my old house with her psychotic mother, who, according to my journals, I’ve been torturing for a decade. I am a bad person, and an even worse sister.
Do I even want to get my memories back?
I stare out the window and watch as we pass all of the other stupid cars. I don’t have any memories, but I can at least make sure Janette has some of this day.
“Hey, Silas,” I say. “Can you put something into that fancy GPS for me?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Like what?”
I don’t know the girl in the back seat at all. She could be super into role-play video games for all I know. “An arcade,” I say.
I see Landon and Janette perk up in the backseat. Yes! I congratulate myself. All pubescent humans like video games. It’s a thing.
“Kind of a weird time to want to go play games,” Silas says. “Don’t you think we should—”
“I think we should play games,” I interrupt. “Because it’s Janette’s birthday.” I make my eyes really wide so he understands this isn’t up for discussion. He makes an “O” face and gives me a really lame thumbs up. Charlie hates thumbs up, I can tell by her body’s immediate reaction to it.
Silas finds an arcade not far from where we are. When we get there, he pulls out his wallet and digs around until he finds a credit card.
Janette makes eyes at me, like she’s embarrassed, but I shrug. I barely even know this guy. What does it matter that he’s spending his money on us? Besides, I don’t have any money. My father lost it all and Silas’s father still has some, so it’s fine. Not only am I a narcissist; I’m also good at justification.
We carry our tokens in paper cups, and as soon as we’re inside the arcade, Janette and Landon walk off to do their own thing. Together. I make eyes at Silas and mouth see.
“Come on,” Silas says. “Let’s get some pizza. Let the kids play.”
He winks at me, and I try not to smile.
We find a table to wait for our pizza, and I slide into a booth, wrapping my arms around my knees. “Silas,” I say. “What if this keeps happening to us? This endless loop of forgetting. What will we do?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “Find each other over and over. It’s not that bad, right?”
I glance over at him to see if he’s joking.
It isn’t that bad. But the situation is. “Who wants to spend their life not knowing who they are?”
“I could spend every day getting to know you all over again, Charlie, and I don’t think I’d