Memory Girl (34 page)

I turn to Lila, picking at my thumbnail like Marcus does when he's troubled. “Lila, can I ask you a question about something that might be … um … a forbidden topic?”

“Of course. But I can't promise to answer,” she says.

“Does someone's soul come back with memdenity?”

Her eyes flash, surprised. “As a scientist, I should answer no. Theoretically, soul does not exist. But recently I had a
dream where Angeleen, who died centuries ago, talked to me. It was too real to be a dream. And when she hugged me good-bye, I felt warm arms around me. How can that be possible when her memories are saved in a tube?”

“Were you close with Angeleen?”

“Very close.” Lila nods. “She was my friend before she was my sister-in-law. Since the dream, I've had a sense that she's with me—not in body but in spirit. If you bring back her memories, I think her soul might stay elsewhere. It's been very confusing to me. I shouldn't admit this to you, but it feels good to talk.”

“You can tell me anything,” I assure, which makes her smile.

“It was easier when I believed science was the answer to everything. But lately I've had opposing thoughts about science versus religion. Where does spirit go when people die? Into a tube or some place beyond this?” She waves her hand from cliff's edge to sea to sky.

“You're smart—can't you figure out the answer?” I ask her.

She laughs wryly. “If only it were that easy. Answering the complexity of existence would be like explaining how to bake an apple pie to an ant. To us, baking apples into a pie crust is a simple process, but an ant only sees its path in the dirt. Yet if a scrap of apple fell in the ant's path, it would recognize the apple as food. No understanding of making the pie, only knowing the bite of apple can give sustenance. Am I making any sense?”

“Um … not really. But I love apple pie.”

“Simply put, as humans facing a giant apple pie of a universe with unanswered questions, we can only be grateful for the scraps of sustenance—knowledge, food, and love—
that come our way.”

“I am grateful,” I say solemnly. “To you.”

Lila touches my chin softly, turning my gaze to hers. “Are you ready to give me your answer? I will only ask you this once, and no matter what you say, I will keep you safe and you can stay here.” She sucks in a heavy breath, then asks, “Do you want to be a scientist?”

My gaze is like a breeze blowing in every direction, from Lila's solemn face to the sea, then back to the hill that conceals the scientists' compound.

All of this can be mine.

“Yes,” I say, agreeing to the sea, Lila, and myself.

Lila opens her purple-sleeved arms wide and draws me close into her sweet perfume. “Welcome, Angeleen.”

“Since that's decided,” Lila says, “are you ready to learn your second surprise?”

“I don't need anything else,” I protest. “You've already done so much.”

“Because I chose to. This is an appropriate place to share this with you—both of us poised at the edge of possibilities.”

Or the edge of disaster
, I think with an unexpected foreboding. My gaze drops to the distant rocky shore below, where boulders are under attack by relentless crashing waves. I shake off these dark thoughts, rising on a tide of hope.

“Do you know of the retro concept of birthdays?” Lila asks me.

“Yes,” I say, as the memory of balloons, gifts, and laughing faces singing, “Happy birthday to Milly” floats through my head.

“The custom was abandoned since no one ages anymore, and most don't care to count their years. But I have fond memories of my childhood birthdays and want to share this tradition with you.” Her dark eyes shine. “Your second surprise is a birthday party.”

The following week thrills with new experiences, although I rarely see Lila. She busies herself in the lab, leaving me with Visla. I enjoy being with the energetic
assistant who talks fast, jumping from topic to topic like a busy squirrel climbing branches. We fall into a routine of breakfast together, where she talks so much I'm saved from thinking deeply. Her face always softens when she speaks of Tamsin's improving health. They're best mates like I am with Lorelei and Marcus.

Except for noon walks on the cliff trail with Lila, I stay in my room. I've yet to meet the other sistas, although I know much about them from Visla. I asked why no one else is allowed near me, and she says it's for my protection. She won't say any more, but I know it has something to do with Scientist Daniel and Frost. Surely any threats will end once I become a scientist.

Lila brings me two retro-books with stiff backs and thin, yellowed pages:
Tanglewood Tales
and
Pippi Longstockings
. I treasure these books, reading them carefully so as not to rip the pages. When I ask Lila for more, she says she'll look around, but paper books usually are stored at the Edu-Center or protected in glass at the museum. They're fragile because they come from the pre-digital era. Technology failed during the mind-plague and all digital books were lost.

Every afternoon on our walks, I ask Lila how much longer 'til my memdenity. Her answer is always the same. A head shake and “soon.” Since I can't go to the health-workers, Lila will perform the procedure. She warns me that this is a secret and I must not tell anyone, not even Visla. I trust Lila—still, I'm nervous. I've grown to enjoy the random images and conversations from Milly's memories, and I'm adapting better, recognizing the shifting in my mind warning me that my thoughts are tumbling into Milly-life. I vow to hold onto to both Milly's and my memories, even after all three of
Angeleen's memdenities.

The night before my birthday party, my mind whirls and I can hardly fall asleep. I read until my eyes ache, and when I do drift off, it's to a dream—or memory—of Milly before she came to the island, when she turned thirteen.

Rosemarie is in the dream too—a younger version of her, but there's no mistaking her gentle smile or her skill in the kitchen. She carries a cake that trails a plume of smoke from thirteen candles. I'm sitting at a large table—my parents added a piece to the middle so it could fit all of my friends. My most recent best friend, Mandy (she's left-handed so I call her my Leftie Bestie) sits beside me. There's an empty seat on my other side saved for Rosemarie. My parents sit across from me with my brother between them, licking frosting off a mixer beater. In a corner of the room, gorgeous wrapped packages cover a table. Rosemarie saves wrapping paper for recycling—but I'd rather rip them open. She can't keep a secret and has already told me I'm getting new boots for competitions.

Competitions? The word gives an image of a spirited quarter horse jumping barrels, and I'm leaning tight in a saddle, flying with hoofbeats. I taste dust and the musty scent of a sweaty horse. I hear applause, from an audience sitting in bleachers, and in the front row, my family stands and applauds for me.

I wake up with a wistful longing, missing Milly's family and a world that no longer exists. When I cross the room and pull back the yellow curtains, I'm warmed by sunshine slanting into my room. I belong here.

Opening drawers, I try on pantons, shirts, tunics, and privacies. There are fresh flowers too, in shades of morning—
orange poppies and yellow lilsies. Visla must have left them for me.

That's not all she's done. Reaching up, I touch the smooth edges of my short hair. After Visla left my evening meal, she took scissors to my hair, shaping my curls into soft layers above my shoulders. When she held up a mirror, I almost didn't recognize myself, but I was pleased with this new me.
Angeleen
, I thought.

I reach for the brush Visla gave me and run it through my hair. Did the real Angeleen have long or short hair? In what shade? Were her eyes brown, green, blue, or hazel? I remember the surprise of seeing a picture of Milly, how different she was to my imaginings. And Milly was shocked by our new appearance. Will Angeleen be a surprise too? I'll gain the first memdenity soon, but I'm impatient to know everything now.

Why not ask Lila?
I think as I button the laces of my tunic.

Lila has told me she has root tea in her lab every morning before beginning her work. So I head for the lab.

This is the first I've entered the elevator alone. My hand wavers uncertainly over the numbers. I reach for number three button, but hesitate when I notice a number four.
Four?
But there's no fourth floor. Curious, I tap the number four, expecting it to stop on the third floor as usual. But it continues to rise, slowly. I'm positive Visla said there were only three floors. So why is there a fourth button?

My curiosity rises with the elevator. When the elevator stops, the red lit number four goes dark. But I don't move.

In my head, Milly's voice warns me to leave. Jennza would stay to investigate. But Milly thinks before diving
into trouble. There could be a danger on the fourth floor that Lila doesn't want me to risk, like poisonous chemicals or Lila's brother and his cold-hearted assistant.

The elevator stops and the door slides open.

Quickly, I push the close-door button. The elevator swooshes back down to level three. I blow out a deep breath, proud of myself because I thought before rushing into trouble. If there's something on the fourth floor that Lila wants me to know about, she'll tell me.

When I tap on the lab door, Lila opens it with a startled expression that widens into a smile. “I expected someone else, but this is even better. Would you like a cup of root tea?” she asks, pulling up a chair beside her desk.

“I'd love it,” I say.

She crosses the room to the cabinets, then returns a moment later with my hot tea. I blow on my hot tea, inhaling rich, earthy scents, before asking her about Angeleen. “Is there a picture of her?”

“Hmmm … there must be. Now where would it be? I'll have to look.” A knock at her door brings her to her feet. “That must be Visla.”

When Lila opens the door, she lowers her voice to a whisper. Visla bounces back and forth on her feet, even more excited than usual.
What are they talking about?
I wonder, biting my lip so I don't rush over and demand to know what's going on.

After much whispering, Lila closes the door, turning to me with an excited grin. “Are you ready for your surprise?”

“Now?” Relief mingles with curiosity. “Is it the birthday party?”

“Not yet. That's your second surprise—there's a third
also.” She stands aside and opens the door wide. “And they've arrived.”

When I look past Lila, my mouth falls open.

I stare at two people I never thought I'd see again.

“Marcus! Lorelei!”

I'm so happy to see them that I've blurted out their youth names. But they'll always be Marcus and Lorelei to me, and I'm overjoyed to see them.

“Surprise!” Lorelei lifts her arms in a twirl.

“Heya, Jennz,” Marcus says quietly.

I open my mouth to say “heya” like always, only I can't speak. Tears prickle my eyes, blurring my vision so my mates appear like ghostly imaginings. Yet Lorelei's hug is real, and I reach out to draw Marcus into our hug.

When I step back, I'm startled by the changes in Marcus. He's wearing formal pantons with a buttoned, long-sleeved white shirt. While I saw his shorter hair at Sunday Fair, now his hair is unnaturally darker and parted to the side with gloss gel. He seems taller too.

Lorelei, though, looks much the sameness. Her long black braid brushes against my cheek as we embrace, her scent fresh like spun cotton. She's bubbling overfull with emotions so easy to read on her expressive face.

I love them both so much.

“I can't believe you're here,” I say with a catch in my throat.

“Imagine how stunned we were to receive invites from scientists! No one ever visits them! And to be invited to
your
party is wondrous. I've been so worried about you.”
She bites her lower lip. “We thought you … you were ….”