False Memory Read Online Free PDF Page B

finger.
    He leans in and stops with his lips a centimeter from mine. He hovers like that until he finally smiles and I lean forward to give him a peck. We both laugh silently because the bed above me and the bed across from me are occupied by still forms. Then we really kiss and his mouth travels from my lips to my chin and down my throat to the hollow between my collarbones.
    I swallow as I watch, feeling heat bloom in my stomach and spread out.
    The boy gives me a final kiss, goes back to his bunk, climbs to the top, and slides under the covers. On-screen, I squirm around, pulling the blanket up to my neck.
    The video fast-forwards over our motionless bodies until, four hours later according to the video, the boy climbs down from his bunk slowly. He pads over to me. He places a hand on my cheek and I open my eyes.
    “Who are you?” I say in the video.
    He puts a finger to his lips. “Shh. Miranda, it’s me. Look at my face.”
    I stare at him for a few seconds, then slowly shake my head. “Where am I?”
    “I want you to come with me,” he says, easing me out of bed.
    He leads me from the room. Minutes later, a girl with black hair climbs down from my bunk and tiptoes over to the form that must be Peter. She jabs something into his neck, and he bolts upright but falls down almost immediately. She kisses her fingertips and presses them to Peter’s temple. Then she leaves, and the room is empty except for Peter.
    The video pauses.
    “Do you remember leaving with Noah?” Dr. Tycast says.
    Noah. The boy who kissed me. I replay the image of my head tilting back to give him better access to my neck. I don’t know what to think. I can’t remember any of it. I can’t remember what his lips feel like, or what his skin smells like. Or what I feel when our eyes meet.
    “Miranda?” Doctor Tycast says.
    “I’m sorry. No.”
    He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes so hard I wince for him. “That’s because he’d been altering your memory shots for days. I assume Peter filled you in on most of this.”
    “Yes.”
    “Yes, well. You’re on them again, so you’ll be able to keep new memories. And though I can’t be sure, I’m afraid what’s lost might be lost forever.”
    “It doesn’t matter,” I say.
    His eyes widen. “No? Why not?”
    “Because I can’t change what’s already been done.” I don’t know if I mean it; the words come automatically. But I hear the truth in them, however hard it is to accept. I can’t get my memories back. It makes me feel cold. Helpless.
    He smiles a tired smile. The smile of a father. “Very true. You always were the one to deal best with change. The others, they would hold on to what was, rather than embracing what is.”
    I absorb that, try to glean something about myself from it. “Doctor, why can I remember some things, and not others? Why do I know what a mall cop is, but I don’t recognize myself in the mirror?”
    Doctor Tycast nods while I talk. “There are different kinds of memory, Miranda. The memory shots you take counteract decay in a portion of your long-term memory. You remember your name, but you don’t remember how the others celebrated your fourteenth birthday. You don’t remember the first time you put your martial arts instructor on his back.”
    I have nothing to say to that. We sit in silence that might be amicable under different circumstances.
    Dr. Tycast puts his glasses back on. “Noah and Olive took you from your home. They put one of my men in a coma to do it. If you remember anything, I want you to tell me now.”
    “I don’t. I wish I did.”
    “Noah was your boyfriend,” he says.
    “Yeah?” I say, almost a whisper. I don’t want to believe it.
    The wall-screen snaps on again. Video-me sits at a desk, staring into what must be a webcam mounted on a laptop. My fingers dance over the keys, then come up and tug on my lower lip. Behind me, Noah reaches over and pulls my hand down.
    “Stop doing that,” he says. He’s