Unremembered (Unremembered #1)(18)

That much I can be certain of.

It actually feels nice to be certain of something for once.

I make my way back to the bathroom. ‘I think we should leave early tomorrow,’ I tell him. ‘Five a.m.’

Cody nods ever so slightly as I close the door behind me.





12


LINGUAL


It’s still dark outside when we leave the house. I’ve taken the liberty of borrowing Scott’s baseball cap again to hide my face from view and I’m dressed in the same clothes I wore yesterday. Heather had planned for us to go shopping today. I guess it will have to wait until I get back.

‘I feel funny,’ I tell Cody as we walk down the road that leads into town, glancing back at the sleeping house.

‘It’s called guilt,’ he says. ‘And I just want you to know that if I get in trouble for this – which I most certainly will – I’m telling them you kidnapped me.’

‘Kidnap.’ I echo. ‘To abduct by force.’

He makes that strange sound with his nose again. I think it’s called a snort. ‘So she’s a walking dictionary too.’

‘I didn’t force you.’

‘No, you’re right,’ he concedes. ‘You hustled me.’

‘Hustle,’ I say. ‘To be aggressive, especially in business matters.’

‘It also means to con someone out of money. Like at pool.’

I frown. ‘But I didn’t take any money from you.’

‘Never mind,’ he replies quickly, hitching his backpack further up his shoulder. ‘Why don’t you just start by telling me how you proved Goldbach’s conjecture?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, I don’t believe you. I think you found it on the Web or something.’

‘The Web,’ I repeat with curiosity. ‘Like a spiderweb?’

Cody gives me a strange look. ‘No, the World Wide Web. You know, the Internet. You seriously don’t even remember that?’

‘I don’t remember anything.’

‘But you can walk and talk and prove unsolvable conjectures.’

I take a deep breath. ‘I guess so.’

The road is silent. And very dark. There are no street lamps like the ones I noticed when we were in town yesterday. But I can see Cody’s face perfectly. His forehead is crumpled and his lips are twisted to the side.

‘So then how could you not know what the Internet is?’

This is the very thing that frustrates me. ‘I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I know certain words but not others. There doesn’t seem to be a pattern. Or if there is, I haven’t found it yet.’

Cody glances at me out of the corner of his eye. ‘That’s gotta suck.’ Then, upon noticing my puzzlement, he hastily adds, ‘I mean, that has to be hard.’ He motions towards my left wrist. ‘And I suppose you don’t remember why you chose to get such a weird tattoo?’

I cover the thin black marking with my other hand, embarrassed by it. ‘No.’

Cody pushes my hand away and leans down to get a closer look. Then his eyes light up. ‘Whoa, I wonder if it’s like a gang symbol or something.’

‘Huh?’

He shakes his head. ‘Nothing.’

‘So what is it?’ I ask.

‘What?’

‘The Internet.’

‘Oh. Right. It’s . . .’ He pauses, wheeling his hand around in a circle. ‘Well, it’s where you find everything.’

The definition intrigues me. ‘Can we go there?’

He laughs. It sounds kinder than the one I heard last night in his bedroom. ‘No, you don’t go there. It’s on a computer. Or a phone. Or a mobile device.’ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out what I now recognize as a cellphone. It lights up at the press of a button and he begins tapping on it.

‘Look,’ he says, handing it to me. ‘This is the bus schedule. It’s posted on the Internet.’ He points to a line of text and my gaze follows his finger. ‘This is the bus we’re taking to LA. It leaves here in twenty minutes and gets into Los Angeles at 9:42 a.m.’

He shows me how you can scroll through the rest of the page and I absorb the information eagerly. ‘What else can it tell you?’ I say when I reach the bottom.

He shrugs. ‘Anything.’

My mind is on fire. The thought of all that data – that information – accessible through a single device, is unbelievable. I want to search for more, but Cody takes the phone back and returns it to his pocket. ‘It’s faster if you have Wi-Fi.’



We arrive at the bus station five minutes later and Cody leads me to the ticket counter. He speaks to a man sitting behind a clear pane of glass.

‘Two round-trip tickets to Los Angeles, please.’

The man taps three times on a screen in front of him. ‘That’ll be $138.00.’

Cody turns to me. ‘I’m guessing you forgot your bank account information too, huh?’

‘I . . .’ I fumble awkwardly.

‘Figures,’ he says, and then reaches into his pocket and produces a pile of green bills. ‘This is nearly two weeks of allowance. You owe me big time.’