by Carly Marino
Published by Evernight Teen ® at Smashwords
www.evernightteen.com
Copyright© 2018 Carly Marino
ISBN: 978-1-77339-673-6
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Audrey Bobak
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To my daughter and my husband for their support, and my sister, Amanda, who read every version of this book, several times.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I want to thank Wendy Higgins for her support and critique guidance. My wonderful family and best friend, Shawnalee Haggenjos, for always rooting for me. My Scribophile buddies: Alyssa, Barbara, Brona, and R.M. All my beta readers—especially Amber and Allana. Stacey Adderley for publishing my story and bringing me into the Evernight Teen Family. I am forever grateful. Audrey for her amazing edits, and Jay Aheer for a beautiful cover that perfectly depicts Thea and Cole’s story. Finally, and most importantly, a million thanks to everyone who reads my novel.
MEMORY WALKER
Inflexaen, 1
Carly Marino
Copyright © 2018
Chapter One
160 days. I could survive 160 days. Right?
A storm of mixed emotions swirled in my chest. My senior year should be the most exciting year of my life. I’d experience all the “joys” of high school one last time. Dances, parties, talking with classmates in the hallways—all the things normal kids would miss—the things I dreaded.
For me, every day meant weaving through the halls like a soldier to avoid flying bullets. Except the guns were my classmates, and the ammo was their memories.
I closed my eyes, listening to the American flag whipping in the humid September breeze. Sunlight warmed my clothed arms and legs, and beads of sweat tickled my spine, which didn’t help my nerves.
In tank tops and shorts way shorter than school regulations, girls sashayed to their circles of friends. Couples nestled beneath the oak trees that shaded the front lawn. Every time a guy kissed his girlfriend, and she stroked his cheek, my heart sank further. The simple action would be hell for me.
Just one more year.
I spun the bracelet around my wrist, searching for the silver charm. The tiny white star carved in the side of the cylinder calmed me. Aside from a wallet-sized photo, it was the only thing I had left of my parents.
I blew out a breath, dragged my feet up the concrete steps and through the front doors. Perfume, hairspray, and cologne mingled with the smell of today’s lunch, making my already upset stomach worse. The sounds of lockers slamming shut, shoes squeaking, and excited voices throbbed in my ears, blending like white noise.
I dug into my front pocket for the crumpled piece of paper with my locker number. Students parted as I walked, careful not to brush against me. I’d freaked out enough times since freshman year I’d earned a reputation for being unstable. Everyone knew not to graze the shoulders of the crazy, untouchable girl. Although I hated their curious eyes, their evasion made my life easier. I could deal with odd looks and whispers. I couldn’t, however, deal with memories.
“Good morning, Thea!”
I jumped. “Hey, Wynter.”
A glint of excitement shone in my best friend’s glacial-blue eyes. She turned the dial of the locker next to mine.
I raised an eyebrow. Lockers were assigned alphabetically. Loman and Scott were nowhere near each other. “How did you get that locker?”
“I switched with the Schoolfield kid. He thinks I’m super cute.” Wynter made a kiss face.
I laughed. “Everyone thinks you’re super cute, Wyn.”
Cute was an understatement. Wynter’s ebony hair curled in s-waves to the middle of her back. She wore an off-the-shoulder turquoise top that brought out her sun-bronzed skin, and every girl envied her hourglass figure.
“Whatever.” She surveyed me and shook her head. “I don’t know how you don’t sweat to death wearing long sleeves and jeans in September. We live in Oregon, not Alaska.”
“The school’s cold.” I was hot as Hades, but the repercussions of exposing my skin to unwanted touches superseded dying of heat exhaustion.
“I’m just saying. We need to update your closet. Remember the beginning of ninth when you, Tatum, and I wore mini-skirts and got sent home?”
“And then we got detention because we never came back.”
“Oh yeah.” She flicked my blonde ponytail. “I forgot about that.”
Of course, she had. Wynter only brought up our mini-skirt days to remind me I used to be cool, her subtle way of throwing darts. “Where’s Ethan?”
“Late, as usual.” She fidgeted. “How’s your morning so far? No one’s said anything rude to you, have they?”
Matt and Tatum eyed me as they passed, and I averted my gaze. “Who cares what they think about me?”
“You can’t just let people be jerks.”
“Yeah, well, most people are jerks.” I smirked. “And they’re over me. Your and Ethan’s new romance is the topic of convo.”
Wynter’s mouth parted. “Who told you about Ethan and me? I wanted to tell you.”
She didn’t have to tell me. A few weeks ago, she’d touched my shoulder to get my attention—my fault for attempting to wear a sleeveless shirt—and her memory drowned me in images of kissing Ethan. I swallowed the truth like I always did. “You’ve flirted since we were five. It was bound to happen eventually.”
She squealed and slid her spiral notebook from her purple messenger bag. “We kissed over the summer, and it was magical. I promise nothing will change between all of us. I was so nervous to tell you. I didn’t want you to have another”—she bit her lip—“never mind.”
“It’s good. I’m good.”
“Yay.” Wynter hugged me.
Her cheek pressed against mine, and dizziness rolled over me before a flush of heat passed through my skin. I spiraled internally as if a drain sucked me from the present to the past.
Conversations evolved to flirtatious giggles, and Wynter’s memory stole my senses.
Ethan’s dark eyes peer at me. His chest muscles are close enough I can smell his mint-scented soap. I hold tighter to my books to keep my hands from brushing his dusty-blond hair from his forehead, no matter how badly they want to. I can’t risk ruining our friendship.
He rocks on his heels. “Is Thea back from her trip, yet?”
That is definitely not the question he wants to ask me, but I withhold a sigh and answer. “I think she gets back today. I’m not sure.” I bite my lip. “So … what did you really want to ask me?” My stomach flips, and butterflies tickle my neck.
He smiles. “Is your mom still cool with you having a boyfriend next year?”
I want to squee, but I roll my eyes instead. “Yeah, but you know I never follow her stupid ‘only sophomores can date’ rule. Why?”
He cradles my face in his hand, and I lean into his soft palm. “Freshman year ends in two weeks, and I was hoping—”
Screams bite at my eardrums. “What was that?”
“Stop it,” a girl hollers.
Ethan’s wide-eyed gaze snaps over his shoulder. “Thea. When did she get back?”
“I … I don’t know.”
We run down the hallway. Ethan pushes kids out of the way until we reach her.
My heart jolts at the sight of Thea
curled into a ball. Her hands clutch her head. Teachers and students surround her, and each time someone touches her, she shrieks, scurrying backward.
Ethan grips my hand, but I let go and maneuver through the crowd to my best friend.
“She just freaked,” Thea’s dumbass boyfriend says.
Anger bursts in my chest. “What’d you do to her?”
“Nothing. I swear. She’s batshit crazy.”
“You’re an asshole.”
Sobs cough from Thea’s lips. “Make them stop. Memories. So many … too many.”
I kneel next to her. “Thea.” I sweep the strands of curled blonde hair from her tear-streaked face. “I’m here. I’m—”
“Don’t touch me.” Her mermaid-green eyeliner paints her cheeks in snaky lines. “Please, don’t touch me.”
I jerked from Wynter, my hand pressing to my sternum to calm my rapid heartbeat. Receiving a memory took a matter of seconds, but to me, it felt like hours. My body and mind had to work hard to separate from someone’s past. I closed my eyes and inhaled several deep breaths.
“Sorry, Thea.” Wynter’s eyebrows furrowed. “I know you hate the mushy, touchy stuff. I’m just so happy.”
Still disoriented and confused, I forced a smile. “It’s—it’s fine. I’m excited too. I should get to class.”
Grinning, she adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “Meet you in the auditorium for the assembly?” I opened my mouth, but Wynter continued, “No buts. It’s our senior year and you’re not missing everything.”
No use arguing. “Fine.”
She skipped away, leaving me still trying to forget what I’d seen. Apparently, that memory was singed into her mind as much as my own. I tightened my ponytail, pulled my English book from my locker, and trudged to class.
The last bell rang as I scurried through the door. A student was at every desk except the two next to the window. Awesome. I’d have to walk across the entire room to sit down and wait until everyone left before I could head to my next class, meaning I’d be late.
Guys and girls chatted among themselves, some tossing paper balls back and forth. Heads turned toward me, and I smiled. A few smiled weakly back, giving me hope that this year might not be as bad as the previous ones.
The squeak of a marker drew my eyes to the teacher writing his name in big red letters on the whiteboard.
“Good morning, I’m Mr. Barbosa. I’ll—” His forehead creased with horizontal lines. “Do you need help with something?”
“Oh—uh, no. I’m … sorry.” Heat crawled from my neck to my ears. My fingers curled around my books, and I lowered my head as I hurried to my desk.
Someone in the class whistled. “Lookin’ good this year, Scotty. Maybe you’ll let someone touch that ass of yours.”
Mr. Barbosa cleared his throat, keeping his back to the class. “Inappropriate, Jason.”
A few of my classmates snickered, and I shrank.
“I wouldn’t touch her again if you paid me. She might stab me to death. Remember freshman year?” Matt looked around the room, reminding everyone about the day the ambulance escorted me to Seaside’s mental hospital.
I paused and tightened my grip on my book. Touch me again? That jerk still lied about us having sex freshman year. My ability might be a curse, but if he hadn’t triggered my first memory walk, I would’ve never known the things he had said behind my back. Although, I also wouldn’t have ended up the class pariah, either.
Wynter and I used to run the school.
“Watch your mouth, Robertson.” Ethan smacked Matt upside the head, ruffling his spiked blond hair.
“Hey.” Matt rubbed the spot where Ethan had hit him. “What the hell?” He stood, puffing his chest.
Ethan towered over him. They moved their heads like two snakes preparing to strike.
Mr. Barbosa stepped around his desk. “First and last warning, boys. Take a seat.”
Matt scowled and dropped into his chair.
“Sorry.” Ethan grinned before following me to the two empty desks.
I slid into one, opened my notebook, and pulled a pencil from the spiral wire.
Ethan’s book bag smacked on the tile behind me. “You all right?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Matt’s an asshole. Don’t worry about him.”
I nodded and pressed the tip of my pencil to a fresh piece of paper. I drew various squiggles, zigzags, and stars as the teacher talked about his expectations for this year.
Matt shifted in his chair, whispering to the guy next to him. He stretched his arms before glancing at me, and I lowered my gaze to my desk, thinking about Wynter’s memory. I could’ve received any memory. Why that one?
A quick poke on my shoulder popped my thought bubble, and I tensed before I glanced behind me.
Ethan tapped his pencil on his desk. “Have you talked to Wyn?”
I nodded.
“And you’re okay with us … ya know?”
“Of course I am.”
“I told Wyn you wouldn’t care.”
Mr. Barbosa peered through his wire-framed glasses, his brown eyes appearing bigger in the magnifying lenses. “Ethan, I told you I’m not dealing with disrespectfulness. Room 102 after school, don’t be late.”
“Sure.” Ethan scratched the back of his head. “Looks like I’m in trouble already. Day one.”
I scoffed. “Not surprised.”
Mr. Barbosa straightened the large calendar on his desk as the bell rang. “The rest of you, please read Chaucer’s The Legend of Good Women and Canterbury Tales before Wednesday. And don’t forget about the assembly.”
Groans filled the room as chairs scraped against the tile. Every year on the first day of school, Principal Warren delivered what he liked to call: “Warren’s words of wisdom.” I usually escaped to the art studio during these stupid assemblies, but I’d promised Wynter I’d go to every and all events.
I closed my notebook. “See you in the auditorium, Ethan.”
He slung his backpack strap over his shoulder and smiled. “I’ll walk you to your next class.”
I nodded, and with a lightness to my step, I made my way to the door. First class and I didn’t view one memory. Maybe I could have a normal senior year. Leave all my fears behind and experience the things everyone else did. Maybe—
“Thea?” Mr. Barbosa’s hand gripped my shoulder. His skin connected with my collarbone. One. Two. Three. Four. Five … and just like Alice, I fell down the rabbit hole.
****
To avoid the herd, I scooted into the auditorium minutes before Principal Warren’s speech. He appeared from behind the burgundy curtains draped on either side of the stage. The faculty congregated by the podium, more than likely catching up on this year’s gossip. Students bumped into each other as they filed into the tattered, cloth stadium seats and an occasional whistle or yell cut through the muddled voices.
I held my breath, hoping the pressure in my lungs would calm me.
It didn’t.
With all these people in one place, touching someone seemed inevitable. I’d make a fool of myself in front of everyone. Again.
Deep breaths. Things will be different. You can do this.
“Thea,” Wynter yelled, waving from the third row.
Ethan nodded when he saw me but went back to talking to the guy beside him. I swallowed, tucked my hands into my shirt sleeves, and climbed the stairs to the empty seat on the aisle.
“I’m so glad you came.” She squealed. “I can’t believe how fast our first day went. This year is going to soar by.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Fast for her, slow for me. My days tended to drag when other people’s lives found their way into mine. Three lusty memories, two ‘what I had for breakfasts,’ and a few of the ever-so-popular Christmas and birthday memories. There was no formula as to which part of their lives I viewed. The only constant in the equation was me.
Wynter crossed her legs. “So there’s a party on Friday, and you’re coming with us
.”
“I hate parties.”
“No more hiding this year. I told your aunt I wouldn’t let you sit at home all the time.”
Ethan gave her thigh a quick squeeze, and her cheeks flushed. I pretended to brush something off my jeans, my heart teetering between jealousy and guilt. I didn’t want to envy Wynter. She was like my sister. But I couldn’t help myself. They could have an intimate relationship. Something I couldn’t experience.
How could I? The moment I touched a person’s skin, I’d know their secrets.
Ethan and Wynter were lucky.
Ethan leaned across her. “We survived our first day. Well, except for the damn detention I got in first period.”
“You got detention already?” Wynter shook her head.
“Are you really that surprised?” I asked.
She laughed. “No, I guess not. Which class?”
“Barbosa’s. He’s such a dick,” Ethan said.
“Barbosa is a pervert. I swear he puts the girls in the front row so he can look up their skirts.” Wynter cringed. “Are you in the front row, Thea?”
“No assigned seats this year,” Ethan said.
Her eyes angled toward me. “That’s weird. I wonder why.”
I wrapped my finger around the tiny strings dangling from a rip in the cloth seat cushion and yanked.
After Mr. Barbosa grabbed me, I had the displeasure of making out with my Spanish teacher on her desk. She probably had something to do with him not assigning seats this year.
A piercing shriek came over the loud speakers and I jumped. Principal Warren tapped on the microphone attached to the podium and Ethan’s ex-foster mom handed him a manila folder then arched a brow at Ethan. Freckles popping, her rotund cheeks glowed red with annoyance. Ethan grew up in the system, his longest stint with Miss Rachel, who still watched over him even though he’d moved out this summer on his eighteenth birthday. He had to work two jobs to pay for his small apartment, but he said the freedom was worth it.
