Reclaimed Read online

  The girl behind the register smiled as we walked up. “Hey, Jenna.” Her eyes slid over me, and her grin became suggestive.

  Jenna ignored her and turned to me. “I always get the number seven. It’s the best thing on the menu.”

  I glanced up at the large board on the opposite wall. Number seven—shrimp pizza. Nope.

  “I’m allergic to shellfish,” I told her. “Sorry.”

  “Really? That sucks.” She looked like I’d just admitted to having the clap or something.

  “I manage.”

  “Okay, you pick,” she told me. “I eat anything.”

  The girl behind the counter snorted, and Jenna grinned. I ordered something with lots of sausage. The girl handed me a number.

  “I’m Amber,” she said.

  “Oh, sorry about that,” said Jenna. “Amber, this is Ian. He just moved to town. Ian, Amber. She’s a junior.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  “Definitely,” she answered.

  We took our drinks and sat in the back corner. Photos covered the wooden tables. Under thick layers of shellac were old black and white pictures of guys in basketball uniforms, showing way too much leg, surrounded by cheerleaders who weren’t showing enough. There were colored pictures where everyone had huge hair, and several yellowed newspaper articles. Almost all of them had something to do with sports.

  “Hey,” I told Jenna, “this girl kind of looks like you.” I pointed to a cheerleader in one of the older color pictures. She was laughing, her head thrown back in a squeal, as a football player lifted her up in the air. She had Jenna’s nose and freckles.

  Jenna didn’t even look over. “That’s my mom.”

  “No way.” I leaned in closer. Jenna didn’t seem the least bit interested in the picture, but I couldn’t imagine being so familiar with a place—or having one that was so familiar with me. The longest we’d ever stayed somewhere was five years. “Is this the only picture of her here?”

  “She’s on tables thirteen, seven, and twenty.” She pointed around the room. “She was Solitude’s sweetheart,” she added, rolling her eyes.

  “Who’s the guy?”

  “My dad.” Jenna’s voice was steel. “They’d just won the state championship.”

  “You don’t get along with your dad?” I asked.

  “I’ve never met my dad,” she said. “He left when my mom was pregnant.”

  I was such an idiot. “My parents just got divorced,” I told her, hoping to make her feel better. Like my family’s dysfunction plus her family’s dysfunction equaled no dysfunction at all.

  “That must be hard,” she said. “Do you miss him?”

  “Sometimes.” That was as close to the truth as I could get. “My dad is complicated.”

  Jenna’s expression changed from pity to understanding. “‘Complicated’ is the exact word I would use to describe my mother.”

  But she seemed unwilling to say anything else.

  “Look, about the other day,” I began.

  Jenna held up her hand. “You already apologized. Besides,” she said, her voice dropping, “a lot can happen in seven months.”

  Seven months. So I met her just after my three-month blackout period. For some reason, I was afraid to ask about it.

  “Let’s just start over.” She stuck her hand out. “Jenna Oliver.”

  Starting over was all I had. “Ian McAlister.” I shook her hand, holding it a bit longer than necessary. “Nice to meet you.”

  She smiled, which made me feel lighter than I had in months. Talking with her gave me this feeling of the sun coming up—like my memories might come out of the dark. I could just see a vague outline, but at least there was something there. It was enough.

  JENNA

  Kyle Couty and his crew pushed through the doors. I tried to disappear inside the shadows, but in Solitude there was no place to hide. Mr. Hoffman stopped the boys and asked about the upcoming season. Kyle went on and on about shotgun formation and a bunch of other things—football was a language I didn’t speak. Then it was our turn.

  “Looking good, Oliver.” Kyle only used last names.

  Steven and Chris were with Kyle, along with Amy, Steph, and a bunch of juniors. They all pulled up chairs to the table.

  “Do you need something?” I asked.

  Kyle feigned innocence. “I just wanted to see how your summer was going. You haven’t been around,” he said. “And I wanted to introduce myself to our new student.” Gossip broke speed limits in Solitude. Kyle turned to Ian and smiled. He didn’t look very welcoming—it was more like he was showing his teeth in some kind of juvenile display of dominance. Ian didn’t seem to notice.

  “Ian McAlister,” he said.

  “Kyle.” He sounded friendly enough, but I wasn’t fooled. I was sure Kyle wanted something. He turned back to me. “We’re going to the lake on Sunday. You coming?”

  “No,” I said. I’d made the mistake of dating Kyle when we were sophomores, and even though we were all friends, I avoided hanging out with him—and his ego—as much as possible.

  “I guess you could bring him,” he said, jerking his thumb at Ian.

  “Generous, but still no.”

  “Relax,” Kyle said, reaching over to rub my shoulders, “you might surprise everyone and have a good time.”

  “If you are even remotely interested in continuing to play football, I suggest you stop touching me.” I hoped my smile suggested violence.

  Dani Peters looked at me like I was out of my mind for talking like that to Kyle, much less objecting to him having his hands on me. She didn’t strike me as the type to complain about Kyle Couty’s hands.

  “Jenna, your order’s ready.” Amber’s voice cut through the chatter.

  I got up, leaving Ian to defend himself against the wolves. He was going to have to deal with them sooner or later anyway.

  I watched the boys. They kept eyeing Ian, like he’d just trespassed on their property, probably because all the girls were cutting glances at him. I half-expected the guys to pee on the wall to mark their territory. It would have been easier.

  “Okay,” I said, sliding the pizza on the table. I slapped Chris’s hand out of the way when he reached for a piece, and he grinned at me. “Find your own table.”

  “Aw, did we interrupt your date?” Kyle asked.

  “Actually, yes. And you have to be taken in small doses.”

  “Whatever. If you change your mind about the lake, we’re meeting at ten o’clock.” Kyle slung an arm around Dani Peters and left. She was obviously his flavor of the week.

  “They seemed nice enough,” Ian said.

  “They are.” I slid a large slice of pizza onto my plate, burning my fingers. Cheese strung back to the pan. “Kyle just gets on my nerves sometimes.”

  “I’d like it if you went to the lake with me,” Ian said.

  “You’re going?” That was fast. But I could tell just by looking at Ian that he was going to get major attention when school started. Which was probably why Kyle was trying to act human.

  “It sounds like fun. He said they’d have a couple of boats and some Jet Skis. Plus,” he added, grinning, “my status would be elevated from new guy to stud if I showed up with you.”

  “When you put it that way,” I told him, “it’s so much easier to say no.”

  He laughed. “Cut me some slack, all right? You’re the only person I know around here. It’s your responsibility as a loyal citizen of Solitude to acquaint me with the town and all of its amenities.”

  “That won’t take long,” I assured him, grabbing another piece of pizza. Ian was on his third. He’d piled so much

  Parmesan cheese onto it that I couldn’t even see the toppings.

  “Then you’ll only be rid of me sooner,” he said.

  “You promise?”

  “Yes.” There always seemed to be a smile behind his eyes. “But I should warn you,” he added, “I’m a compulsive liar.”

  “I’ll ke
ep that in mind.”

  It was surprisingly easy to be with Ian. He wanted to be an architect, and I had to appreciate the way he had it all planned out. It was so hard for me to settle on any one thing, since I wanted to do so many. I only knew one thing for sure—whatever I did, I wasn’t going to be doing it in Solitude. I was dying to know about all the different places he’d lived, but Ian was much more interested in hearing about me—and Solitude.

  “There’s not much to tell,” I said. “I’ve lived here my whole life. My family has lived their entire lives here.”

  “But that’s so cool,” he insisted. “I can’t imagine that. Everything here must have a memory for you.”

  Sometimes that was the problem. “There are some good things about small towns,” I said. “But it can get boring. I see the same people every day. They’re even starting to look alike.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “It’s because they’re all married to their cousins, isn’t it?”

  “Probably.” Almost everyone else in the restaurant had filtered out, but we hadn’t moved. We were both leaning forward, our hands resting on the table. If I moved my pinkie a little to the left, I could’ve touched him. I wanted to. I remembered the way he’d held my hand in October. I never dreamed I’d see him again. I kept staring at the line of his jaw, and the curve of his lips, and the way his hair curled against his collar.

  He looked around the empty room. “We’d better go before they make us help clean up.”

  “I was thinking about it,” Pete yelled from the back. He and I were going to have a little talk about eavesdropping.

  Ian took my hand on the way out the door, like it was the most natural thing in the world. My cheeks flushed, and I was glad it was dark.

  He walked me to my car. “I had a really nice time,” he said.

  “Me too.”

  “Do you want me to pick you up Sunday?”

  “That’s fine,” I told him. “Here.” I wrote down my address on the back of a receipt I found in my car. “Think you can find it?”

  “It’s Solitude, right? How hard can it be?”

  He opened my car door, but he didn’t try to kiss me. He pulled out of the lot ahead of me, and I watched his taillights disappear into the dark.

  SEVEN

  JENNA

  On Saturday morning, I was in the shop ringing up Mr. Dempsey when the bell over the door jingled. Two customers in the store at the same time was practically a rush. My face grew warm when Ian walked in, but he didn’t return my smile.

  I handed Mr. Dempsey his change. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

  He winked at me. “Now you tell your Mops I stopped by.”

  “Will do,” I promised, although she already knew. It was why she was hiding in the back. We were both pretty sure Mr. Dempsey was after her, but Mops said taking care of Pops had been enough and she wasn’t about to sign up for that again. Plus, Mr. Dempsey had a lot of ear hair. He couldn’t have handled Mops anyway. She would have eaten him alive.

  I stared at Ian’s back, at the width of his shoulders and the way his muscles pushed against his T-shirt. The way he seemed to be pointedly ignoring me.

  “Do you need help finding something?” I asked. I sure wasn’t going to stand there while he pretended I was invisible.

  “How much for the lathe?” He didn’t even turn around. What was with him?

  “Two hundred dollars,” Mops said, slinking out of the back room. “But I might be able to cut you a deal.”

  Ian nodded and moved into the back of the store. He continued to ignore me and I pretended it didn’t bother me as much as it did.

  “Is Jimmy gone?” Mops whispered.

  “All clear,” I told her.

  “Good.” She wiped her hand dramatically across her forehead. “It’s hard being this good-looking.” She giggled, a laugh that should have been out of place on anyone older than twelve. But it worked for Mops.

  I rolled my eyes and pointed at Ian, who was now holding a couple of books. Mops brushed her hand through the air, like she was dismissing a fly. Mops didn’t get embarrassed.

  Ian dumped his books on the counter, finally forced to look at me. There were dark half-moons under his eyes, which today resembled gray storm clouds rather than blue sky. “Is everything okay?” I asked. He really didn’t look like himself. “Did something happen last night after you left?”

  His face darkened. “I’m fine,” he grumbled, handing me a five. Then he was gone.

  I was aggravated at myself for letting the rejection hurt. I had way too many things to deal with already without adding in moody boys. But what had happened to the guy I’d gone out with the night before? The one who was funny and sweet and always seemed to be smiling? This Ian didn’t seem to have smiled in a long time.

  “Piss poor personal skills, but I bet he’s got abs that would put my grandmama’s washboard to shame,” said Mops, leaning against the counter.

  “Mops!” Not that anything she said ever really shocked me.

  She winked. “Just calling it like I see it. Pops had a pretty nice butt when he was that age.”

  I did not want to be having this conversation.

  Mops laughed at the trapped look on my face. “You want to help me go through that box?”

  “As long as we don’t have to talk.” I was surprised my ears hadn’t started bleeding already.

  LUKE

  I kept having the same dream. I was in my room, sitting on the bed. Sometimes I was reading, sometimes I was staring at the picture of Ian and me that was on my bedside table. I heard a grinding noise, like rusty gears, and at first I couldn’t be sure where it was coming from. Then I noticed the walls of my room getting closer. It was subtle at first, but then the books started to move toward the center of the room, followed by the bed. I jumped up and ran to the door, but I couldn’t open it. I stood in the middle of the room—sweating, breathing hard. I wasn’t sure what to do. The walls just got closer and closer. I put my hands out to try to stop them, but I couldn’t. I started to imagine how bad it was going to hurt when I was smashed between the walls—except when they finally pressed together, I didn’t feel a thing. Because I wasn’t there. That was when I woke up, sweating and thrashing. Maybe I was just trying to remind myself that I did exist.

  That was why I had to go to town. I wasn’t supposed to, but I’d stayed inside about as long as I could stand it, and I felt as faded as the ugly wallpaper in the dining room. Besides, I had some remodeling to do, which meant I needed to go to the hardware store. Surely I would be safe in a hardware store.

  Except there was a junk store across the street with a really cool old lathe in the window, and I couldn’t resist. If I was going to have to stay out of sight indefinitely, then I needed something to keep me busy. Otherwise I was going to cause some trouble, and nobody wanted that. Even I didn’t want that.

  Reclaimed was a tiny store squashed between an insurance company and the pharmacy. A bell jingled loudly as I pushed open the glass door. I was greeted by gloriously cold air and the dry scent of books.

  And her. She was standing at the counter helping some old man, but when I walked in, she looked up and smiled.

  Funny how a simple smile could destroy a person. Like a small storm that turned into a tornado. Or a tiny ripple that became a wave. Her smile washed over me, blew through me so completely that I was surprised to find myself still on my feet. Still staring at the freckles scattered across her nose. Still staring at her auburn hair. Trying to avoid the confusion in her eyes, confusion I put there because I didn’t smile back. Because that would have been my undoing.

  Somehow I managed to ask about the lathe, but I didn’t hear the answer, and I didn’t see the titles on the books I was pretending to look at. This had been a bad idea. I wasn’t supposed to leave the house, and I wasn’t really supposed to talk to anybody. Besides, I didn’t deserve to talk to her. I didn’t deserve to be here at all, but Fate was a bitch who enjoyed tormenting me.
r />   I grabbed a couple of books without even looking at them. I should have left without them. I didn’t know why I couldn’t. At the counter, I had to look at her. I had to stand close enough that I could smell her shampoo.

  She asked me if I was okay. A familiar tone, like I knew her. Like I knew her well.

  Damn. She’d already been out with Ian. Fantasy shattered. I had to respond. I owed him that much at least.

  “I’m fine.” It was the best I could do. I got the hell out of there.

  EIGHT

  IAN

  Mom and Luke were both still asleep when I left for the lake on Sunday morning. I wrote a note explaining where I was. Mom was going to be upset when she got up, but that was standard operating procedure these days. I was pretty sure it would be worth it.

  Jenna and her friends were just the kind of normal I needed. They hadn’t met Luke. They didn’t worry about my headaches or memory loss, which meant I could relax. Take it easy. Smile. I’d wanted to kiss Jenna Friday night, but I was being careful instead. Doing everything right. Maybe doing things right with Jenna would balance out everything else that was wrong.

  Jenna lived in an older subdivision outside of town, and she was waiting on her front porch when I pulled up. She had on a ratty pair of cutoffs and an old T-shirt, but damn she looked amazing. Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, and even though she wasn’t wearing any makeup at all, she looked more beautiful than most girls do when they spend hours in front of the mirror. I doubted Jenna knew her effect on people—I wondered if she even cared.

  She didn’t look happy to see me. “I’m surprised you showed up.”

  “I’m sorry?” I couldn’t have done something wrong already.

  Jenna folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t get your mood swings. One minute you’re practically begging me for a date, and the next, you don’t even speak when you see me.”

  I hated this feeling. The frustration of someone remembering something I didn’t, something I couldn’t. It was my life, and I was sick of having my memories repeated to me instead of being able to recall them myself. I had to work harder with Dr. Benson. Maybe if I could keep my memories from falling away, I could keep my family from slipping away. Maybe I could even quit screwing up with the one person I was interested in getting to know.