Olivia Christakos and Her Second First Time Read Online Free PDF

gave me some kind of medicine to make me believe that everything is all right. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, however, I know nothing is all right. The Cub Scout’s breath is on my cheek now because he’s leaning so close and it’s coming out raggedly. I scoot over more. The boy is cute, but also kind of weird, and I wish I could remember him. I want to ask his name, to whisper the question to him so no one else can hear. He’s the closest thing to someone I recognize. I keep staring at his clothes, trying to kick-start my brain. “Do you recognize anything else?” the boy asks.
    “Should I?”
    The man scoffs. “Don’t tell me she has amnesia.”
    The doctor steps closer. “Olivia, do you know your middle name?”
    Panic blooms inside me. I shake my head. “Is that my name...
Olivia
?” My brain doesn’t offer a replacement, so maybe it is.
    The woman begins to sob, quietly. The little girl pets her hair. The cute/weird guy next to me nods. He places a hand on my forearm. When I yank it away, it feels like someone has punched me in the side. I gasp and grab my ribs. Something thick is wrapped around me; I can feel it with my fingertips.
    “Slow movements,” the doctor says, coming over to me. “You’re doing great. Now, tell me again. What do you know about the people in this room?” He gestures to them. I shake my head.
    “Okay...let’s start with me,” the doctor says gently. “Did you recognize that I was a doctor when I came into your room?”
    I nod. Plus, he looks so stereotypically doctor-y: gray curly hair, glasses, slightly bored and tired expression. White coat.
    “What kind of building are you in?” he asks.
    “A hospital?”
    He nods. “Can you tell me your favorite food?”
    I roll the question around in my mind. I know what spaghetti and cereal and eggs and ice cream are, but I don’t know if I’ve had any of them. My eyes are wet. I swipe at them angrily. “No.”
    “There’s no need to get upset,” he says now, stepping over to the side of my bed. Thankfully, he doesn’t touch me. “You’re doing great and we’re going to work through this. Can you tell me how many continents there are?”
    “Seven.” I look over to the woman, expecting her to be surprised or happy that I know this, but she looks stricken and scared.
    “Do you know what size shoe you wear?”
    Something about the word
shoe
sends a thrill through me, but I don’t know what size is my size. Another shake of my head.
    “What does this mean?” the woman asks, now clinging to a tissue.
    The doctor clears his throat. “Well, I would have to run some other tests, get a neurologist involved...but I would say Olivia is suffering from retrograde amnesia. It’s a type of amnesia that happens directly after a traumatic event.”
    “When Olivia was run over?” The little girl jumps in, looking less worried than anyone else in the room. I decide she looks that way not because she doesn’t care, but because she’s stronger than these other people are. She wouldn’t be tucking blankets and asking questions if she didn’t care. She’s small and dressed in pink and black.
    “What does this mean?” The man’s voice is unsteady.
    “It’s difficult to say anything for certain. She’s had a concussion, so it may be that’s interfering with her memory. But I’ve never seen a case this severe.”
    “Severe?” the woman hisses, horrified.
    “Usually there are just bits and pieces missing. Like gaps.”
    The woman pulls at her lip. “What can we do? Will she get better? Will she have to stay in the hospital? Is she...is she still our little Olivia?”
    I wait for the pet name to trigger a click of familiarity, but nothing comes.
    “Anything is possible at this point,” the doctor responds, holding his clipboard to his chest. “It seems Olivia has her semantic memory—general knowledge about the world—but lacks her episodic memory. That is, her life experience memory.”
    The woman wipes