Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac(21)

“I did not know that,” James said. His mouth threatened to smile for a second. “Well, it was…good seeing you both.”

“The thing is,” I said, “I was sort of hoping I’d run into you again. I didn’t get a chance to thank you for all your help at the hospital—”

James cut me off. “Really. Don’t mention it,” he said. He stuck his hands in his coat pockets and turned to walk away.

“Wait!” I called out. “Can’t we at least give you a ride?”

Will pinched me on the arm and muttered, “He doesn’t want a ride.”

But Will shouldn’t have worried, because James just shook his head. “It’s not raining that hard.”

We got back in the car, and Will started chattering about yearbook again. “It would be really great, for once, to have some decent artists on staff.”

“Is he an artist?”

“Who?”

“James.”

“I think he does something with video, I’m not sure. The point is, all the good ones go over to newspaper or lit mag or even drama, but none of them ever want to work yearbook. And it’s so stupid when you think about it. ’Cause no one’s even gonna see the lit mag or the newspaper like a week after it comes out. But everyone’s gonna have their yearbook when they’re really old. You know? Hey, Chief?”

“What?” We were stopped again at that same light, and I was watching James cross the street.

“Forget it,” Will said.

“What’s his story?” I asked.

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Aren’t you supposed to know everything? He was kind of rude, don’t you think?”

Will shrugged. “No, he just didn’t want a ride.”

At that moment two things happened. The traffic light turned green, and it began to pour. “I suppose we should offer him a ride. Again.” Will sounded about as unenthusiastic as it is possible for a person to sound. He drove up alongside James.

“James!” I leaned over Will and yelled through the driver-side window.

“I don’t mind the rain!” he yelled. His hair was already soaked.

“James,” I said, “get in the car, would you?”

We locked eyes for a second. I raised my eyebrow. He shook his head the tiniest bit.

“I’m fine,” James repeated.

“But it’s storming,” I protested.

“Listen, Larkin, she’s not gonna give up, and I’m wasting gas. Just get in already,” Will barked.

James obeyed Will.

“Thanks,” James said to Will.

“Where to, sir?” Will asked.

“Just my home, I guess,” James said. He gave a few directions, and Will indicated that he knew where that was. In the rearview mirror, I watched James take off his jacket, which had gotten wet. I could see that leather cord with the ring on it again.

Will had noticed the ring, too, and he asked, “What’s the ring?”

“Oh, it’s my brother’s,” James said, slipping the ring under his T-shirt.

“Why isn’t he wearing it then?” Will asked.

“I guess that’d be”—he paused to dry off his hair on his shirt—“’cause he’s dead.”

“Hey,” Will said, “I’m really sorry about that, man.”

James shrugged and said something about it having happened a long time ago. It was clear to me that he didn’t want to talk about it, so I changed the subject. “I’ve been thinking. You never came to visit me in the hospital.”

“Yeah…I meant to. But I don’t really love hospitals.”

“I was waiting,” I said, turning around to look at him through the gap between the headrest and the front seat. “And you could have visited me at home, too.” My sunglasses slipped down the bridge of my nose a bit, and James reached into the gap to push them back up. He let his finger lightly graze the space above my brow before returning his hand to his lap.

“Does it still hurt?” James asked.

“Not too much,” I said.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asked.

“Nope, she doesn’t know anything past sixth grade,” Will answered for me, which was annoying. He was behaving rather badly.

I turned back around. “That’s not entirely true. I do still remember math and science.”

“What more is there in life?” Will quipped.

“I’ve just forgotten everything else,” I continued. “I’m basically a blank slate.”

James laughed. “Lucky girl.”

“I don’t see what’s so lucky about it,” Will grumbled.

“Aren’t there things you’d rather forget?” James asked him.

“No,” Will said. “There are not. If I were Naomi, I’d be screaming mad.”

“Well, are you?” James asked me.

I thought about it for a second before shaking my head. “Not really. There’s nothing I can do about it, is there?”

James nodded. “That’s an awfully mature attitude. I still get plenty pissed about things I can’t do anything about.”