#1 - Page 19 (1/2)

I’ve been hung up on the fact that I didn’t wake up with memories. I was hoping Charlie was right—that we would wake up and everything would be back to normal. But we didn’t and it’s not.

Or at least I didn’t wake up with memories. I haven’t spoken to Charlie since last night, and her text this morning revealed nothing.

I didn’t even open the text. It flashed on my lock screen and I read enough of the first sentence to know I didn’t like how it made me feel. My thoughts immediately wandered to who might be picking her up and if she was okay with it.

My protective instincts kick in whenever it comes to her, and I don’t know if it’s always been that way or if it’s because she’s the only one I can relate to right now.

I get out of the car, determined to find her. Make sure she’s okay, even though I know she more than likely is. I don’t have to know any more about her to know that she doesn’t really need me to take care of her. She’s fiercely independent.

That doesn’t mean I won’t still try.

When I enter the school, it occurs to me that I don’t know where to begin searching for her. Neither of us can remember which lockers are ours, and considering this happened to us both during fourth period yesterday, we have no idea where our first, second or third period cla.s.ses are.

I decide to walk to the administration office and see about getting a new copy of my schedule. Hopefully Charlie thought to do the same, because I doubt they’ll give me hers.

The secretary is unfamiliar, but she smiles knowingly at me. “Here to see Ms. Ashley, Silas?”

Ms. Ashley.

I start to shake my head no, but she’s already pointing me in the direction of an open office door. Whoever Ms. Ashley is, I must visit her enough that my presence in the office isn’t unusual.

Before I make it to the open office door, a woman steps out. She’s tall, attractive and appears extremely young to be an employee. Whatever she does here, she hasn’t been doing it long. She barely looks old enough to be out of college.

“Mr. Nash,” she says with a vague smile, flicking her blonde hair back over her shoulder. “Do you have an appointment?”

I pause and stop my advancement toward her. I glance back at the secretary right when Ms. Ashley waves it off. “It’s fine, I have a few minutes. Come inside.”

I move gingerly past her, taking in the nameplate on the door as I enter her office.

AVRIL ASHLEY, GUIDANCE COUNSELOR.

She closes the door behind me and I look around the office, which is decorated in motivational quotes and typical posters portraying positive messages. I suddenly feel uncomfortable. Trapped. I should have said I didn’t need to see her, but I’m hoping this counselor—one I apparently visited regularly—will know a few things about my past that may be of help to Charlie and me.

I turn, just as Ms. Ashley’s hand slides down the door and reaches the lock. She turns it and then begins to saunter toward me. Her hands meet my chest and right before her mouth connects with mine, I stumble backward and catch myself on a filing cabinet.

Whoa.

What the h.e.l.l?

She looks offended that I just shook off her advance. This must not be unusual behavior with us.

I’m sleeping with the guidance counselor?

I immediately think of Charlie and, based on our obvious non-commitment to one another, I question what kind of relations.h.i.+p we had. Why were we even together?

“Is something wrong?” Ms. Ashley says.