Read False Memory for Free Online Page B

mouth.
    “What’s normal?” I say.
    Olive shrugs, elbows Peter in the ribs. “What’s normal, Fearless Leader?”
    Peter laughs, shaking his head. “I wish you guys would stop calling me that. I didn’t ask for anything.”
    Noah drinks until he hits the bottom of his Coke. “No, you just can’t help being the strongest and fastest.”
    Peter grins. “Do you want to arm-wrestle again?”
    Noah makes a low moan in his throat. “No thanks.” He rubs his arm. “My shoulder still hurts.”
    It’s not even funny, but we’re all loopy with the rush of sneaking out, so we laugh. Although Phil saw us, so it doesn’t really count as sneaking . Noah squeezes my thigh under the table.
    “You guys ready to go back?” Peter says. “It’s almost dawn.”
    “Maybe a little longer,” I say.
    I never see what comes next.
    When I wake, I feel empty and full at the same time; the memories fade but remain inside me. The little glimpse of my past leaves me wanting more.
    So I grab at one again, the last memory in the diner. I’m there in the booth, but I can’t remember how I felt. I see Noah and Peter and Olive, but they’re just people. Noah holding my hand, I liked that. I’m sure I did.
    It doesn’t answer the question of who I am, but I have a better idea now. And I guess that’s something.
    But at the same time it’s nothing. The fragments didn’t come with an understanding of the people within them. They came and went, too fast to truly experience, or to truly keep as my own. It was just a movie of someone else’s life. How much can I learn from a few snapshots? If only the memories would stick; anything I feel seems to get eaten up right after I feel it. I can’t own it.
    Maybe if more pieces come, I’ll get a better picture. If enough pieces come, maybe I’ll be able to claim them.
    I sigh. Toss the covers off and sit up in bed. Getting a few memories back was supposed to make everything better, but all it does is confirm there was most definitely a life here that used to belong to me.
    My sweaty T-shirt sticks to my stomach and back. I swipe some of the hair off my face and tie it into a loose ponytail, then realize I’m dying of thirst. My eyes adjust to the near pitchblack room by the time I’m in the bathroom.
    A light flicks on. Peter leans against one of the stall doors, wearing jeans and nothing else.
    He startled me, so I’m a little demanding when I say, “What are you doing in here?”
    He shrugs, which is awkward with his shoulder against the stall.
    “Just brooding in the dark?” I say.
    “I couldn’t sleep.”
    He tries hard not to, but his eyes cut over my bare legs before settling back on my face. My greater willpower allows me to hold his eyes, not the lines of his hips disappearing behind the waist of his jeans. He scrubs at his black hair with one hand. I try to remember how I looked at him in the dream, if I felt anything when I did, but I can’t.
    “I had a dream. A memory of Noah—of all of us. It was a memory.”
    “A phantom,” he says. “You might have a few.”
    “Could they come back clearer?”
    He looks away. “No.”
    “But earlier you said you weren’t sure.”
    He shrugs. “You’re right, I’m not.”
    “Then why did you—”
    “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.” There’s something off about the way he says it, like he’s leaving something out.
    Maybe more will come, in time. And maybe they won’t come attached with borrowed emotions.
    Maybe.
    We stand there barefoot on the cold tile. Neither of us knows what to say. I fill the silence with something.
    “Don’t worry about where my hopes are.” I pause. “Or I’ll put your ass in a cast.”
    Peter’s mouth drops open. “You remember Phil.”
    I nod. “A little.”
    “He’s around. I don’t know why he hasn’t come to see you yet.”
    “Maybe he’s afraid I won’t recognize him.” It’s a joke, but then I think about what this must be like for everyone else. They know