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people Raven knows.”
    I gape at the stack of albums that
reaches past my knee. “You want me to memorize all of
them?”
    “ Yes.”
    Before I can argue, he walks
out.
    I sink down to the floor, wondering
how in the world I’m supposed to teach myself all the faces these
albums contain. I peel open the cover on the first album and blink
at a face that is so exactly like mine, I wonder if it’s me and
I’ve simply forgotten the memory captured on film. But it’s her. I
see the difference in the eyes, and the smile that is entirely too
free for someone who grew up in Twig City. It’s slightly crooked on
one side and already I distrust her. Already I hate her.
    There is movement in the doorway. I
look up, expecting Gus or even Titus. Instead, it is a boy I’ve
never seen before. He is close to my age, twenty at most. His light
hair is cropped close to his head and lays flat. I peg him for a
soldier, though he doesn’t wear any uniform. His hands are tucked
deep in his corduroy pockets and he is scowling.
    My voice gets stuck in my throat.
Partly because he is a boy and I have almost zero experience
conversing with males. And partly because he is so beautiful and
Authentic and one hundred percent untouchable that it makes my
cheeks burn.
    “ Um, can I help you?” I
ask when he doesn’t speak.
    He gives me a disbelieving look and
then shakes his head. “I think you have it backwards.”
    “ Have what—”
    “ The helping part,” he
cuts in. “I’m apparently the one giving the help.” He doesn’t sound
happy about it.
    “ I’m sorry, who are you?”
I ask, my irritation pricking at his tone.
    “ Linc
Crawford.”
    “ Linc Crawford.” I repeat
it, turning it over on my tongue, still trying to understand the
reason for his distaste.
    He pushes off the frame and steps into
the room. “They say you have amnesia from that fall the other
day.”
    I recall the story Titus told me he’s
given the staff. “That’s right.”
    “ I’m supposed to show you
these albums. See if it’ll help you remember.” He sits down so
close to me, our shoulders are almost touching. He pulls the album
from my lap to his. The sudden closeness startles me and I am quick
to cover my discomfort with conversation.
    “ Do you work for Titus?” I
ask. “I mean … my father?”
    “ I’m your security
detail,” he says in a rough voice.
    I press my lips together and leave it
at that. I’ve already botched this enough and his tone is clear. He
doesn’t want to talk to me any more than necessary for the job. I
take my cue from him and concentrate on the assignment at
hand.
    Linc begins to show me the albums and
we fall into a rhythm. He points to a face, says a name, I repeat
it. We go slowly. After each page, he asks who I remember. I’m able
to recall a senator and his wife. This makes me happy but Linc
doesn’t react. Just turns the page and starts on the next set of
faces.
    “ I’m not doing very well,
am I?” I say after several pages of faces I’ve already
forgotten.
    He shrugs. “I get paid either
way.”
    My shoulders stiffen as his biting
tone finally gets to me. “Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the
bed.”
    “ Whatever. Let’s just get
this done.”
    “ Fine,” I say through
tight lips.
    I no longer care that the blue in his
eyes makes me think of cloudless skies or that he smells like wind
and soap and something else I can’t identify. Or that I want to
touch the scar on the back of his left hand. Instead, I force
myself to memorize politicians and social climbers and the elite
among a society I’ve never stepped foot in.
    When we’ve finished, Linc rises and
walks to the doorway, arching a brow as he glances over his
shoulder. “You coming?” he asks.
    “ Um, shouldn’t we put
these away?” I ask, waving at the albums scattered
about.
    His forehead crinkles. It’s clear I’ve
said something wrong. “No, the maid will get them. Come
on.”
    “ Where are we
going?”
    “ Tea.”
    I