It’s so bad, it’s haunting my dreams. It’s out of control. If I everkissed a boy before, or did anything at all, I don’t remember it. I’m not looking to jump into anything. I’m not going to go around kissing random boys. I just want to be with other kids. I’m starting to think I may never get my memories back—”
“But you will,” Aunt Suzette said.
“What if I don’t?” Rose shouted. She shook her head, hating every second of the argument. “Really, what if I don’t? I need to start trying to figure out what normal even means. I mean, I’m Rose DuBois, right? But right now I’m creating Rose DuBois from nothing. It’s like building a sand castle, trying to make it take shape without it all falling apart. How can you not understand that?”
Aunt Fay sighed and turned toward them. She tasted the soup on her spoon and shut off the burner, setting the wooden implement aside.
“You can go,” she said.
Aunt Suzette turned on her, wide-eyed. “What?”
“She can go. Under the terms she put forth. Home by midnight. No traveling alone—”
“I’m going with Kylie, a friend from school. She’s going to come by so you can meet her.”
“—and no kissing boys,” Aunt Fay finished. “You may not understand us, Rose, but I know that in your heart you know that we love you.”
Rose lowered her hand from her cheek. “In my heart, maybe, but my face doesn’t feel that way right now.”
Aunt Suzette slumped into the chair across from theone Rose had upended. “I’m sorry, Rose. But we do love you. Without your memory you might as well be a newborn. Boys can’t be trusted. They are guilty until proven innocent, and they will say anything to persuade or cajole, as long as they get what they want in the end.”
“I agree,” Rose said.
Aunt Suzette brightened. “What?”
“I agree to the terms,” Rose said. “No traveling alone. Home by midnight. No kissing boys. But… were you serious, Aunt Fay? About going back to France? You want to move again now, just when I’m starting school?”
“No,” Aunt Fay said. “Of course not.”
But Rose did not think she sounded very sincere. She recalled her dream from that morning, something about lying with a man. A voice echoed in the back of her mind.
All is lost
, someone had said to her. And something about a witch making people fall asleep. But the dream had faded considerably in the hours since, and Rose thought that must be a good sign. If she could remember so little, her dreams must really be dreams, incorporating things from her waking life.
Enough with dreams,
she thought. It was time for her to live while she was awake.
As for tonight, when it came time to surrender again to the fresh fears that slumber might bring… she would fight sleep as long as she could, and pray for a night without dreams.
Rose trailed Kylie through the Harvard Square T station, ignoring the urine smell that blew up from the tunnels as trains bulleted in to disgorge passengers. On a Friday night, Cambridge swarmed with college students looking for a good time. People marched past a scruffy guy playing guitar, his case open to receive coins or dollars from those he entertained or shamed into donating to his personal cause. In the main chamber of the station a skinny bald woman in peach and tan robes passed out pamphlets that could have been for a new religion or a new café, and a burgeoningly fat man with charcoal skin sold individually wrapped flowers out of a plastic pickle tub.
As they went up the escalator, Rose looked back, but Kylie barely seemed to have noticed their surroundings at all.
“—should stop and get some coffee. Are you in love with coffee?” Kylie asked. “I am having such a torrid affair with coffee. I crave it, but I’m, like, a total slut for it,too. Coffee just has its way with me. Hazelnut? Cappuccino? Espresso? Frickin’ mocha vanilla blah blah breakfast blend? Take me now, coffee, I am yours to do with as you
“But you will,” Aunt Suzette said.
“What if I don’t?” Rose shouted. She shook her head, hating every second of the argument. “Really, what if I don’t? I need to start trying to figure out what normal even means. I mean, I’m Rose DuBois, right? But right now I’m creating Rose DuBois from nothing. It’s like building a sand castle, trying to make it take shape without it all falling apart. How can you not understand that?”
Aunt Fay sighed and turned toward them. She tasted the soup on her spoon and shut off the burner, setting the wooden implement aside.
“You can go,” she said.
Aunt Suzette turned on her, wide-eyed. “What?”
“She can go. Under the terms she put forth. Home by midnight. No traveling alone—”
“I’m going with Kylie, a friend from school. She’s going to come by so you can meet her.”
“—and no kissing boys,” Aunt Fay finished. “You may not understand us, Rose, but I know that in your heart you know that we love you.”
Rose lowered her hand from her cheek. “In my heart, maybe, but my face doesn’t feel that way right now.”
Aunt Suzette slumped into the chair across from theone Rose had upended. “I’m sorry, Rose. But we do love you. Without your memory you might as well be a newborn. Boys can’t be trusted. They are guilty until proven innocent, and they will say anything to persuade or cajole, as long as they get what they want in the end.”
“I agree,” Rose said.
Aunt Suzette brightened. “What?”
“I agree to the terms,” Rose said. “No traveling alone. Home by midnight. No kissing boys. But… were you serious, Aunt Fay? About going back to France? You want to move again now, just when I’m starting school?”
“No,” Aunt Fay said. “Of course not.”
But Rose did not think she sounded very sincere. She recalled her dream from that morning, something about lying with a man. A voice echoed in the back of her mind.
All is lost
, someone had said to her. And something about a witch making people fall asleep. But the dream had faded considerably in the hours since, and Rose thought that must be a good sign. If she could remember so little, her dreams must really be dreams, incorporating things from her waking life.
Enough with dreams,
she thought. It was time for her to live while she was awake.
As for tonight, when it came time to surrender again to the fresh fears that slumber might bring… she would fight sleep as long as she could, and pray for a night without dreams.
Rose trailed Kylie through the Harvard Square T station, ignoring the urine smell that blew up from the tunnels as trains bulleted in to disgorge passengers. On a Friday night, Cambridge swarmed with college students looking for a good time. People marched past a scruffy guy playing guitar, his case open to receive coins or dollars from those he entertained or shamed into donating to his personal cause. In the main chamber of the station a skinny bald woman in peach and tan robes passed out pamphlets that could have been for a new religion or a new café, and a burgeoningly fat man with charcoal skin sold individually wrapped flowers out of a plastic pickle tub.
As they went up the escalator, Rose looked back, but Kylie barely seemed to have noticed their surroundings at all.
“—should stop and get some coffee. Are you in love with coffee?” Kylie asked. “I am having such a torrid affair with coffee. I crave it, but I’m, like, a total slut for it,too. Coffee just has its way with me. Hazelnut? Cappuccino? Espresso? Frickin’ mocha vanilla blah blah breakfast blend? Take me now, coffee, I am yours to do with as you
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