Forgotten Self (Forgotten Self #1)

Table of Contents

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1

Then

Today had been graduation day for a good portion of my friends. They had long since finished their photo slide shows and singing of “Time of Our Lives” and all the other standard high school grad nostalgia. I had
fallen into it too, despite having just ended my junior year, writing page-long letters in yearbooks and posting Brand New's “Soco Amaretto Lime” lyrics on my Facebook page. And as many of my former classmates got ready for the all-night party hosted by ou
r very own Snowline High School, my friends were headed elsewhere. A bunch of us, new seniors and recently graduated alike had planned a small party on the other side of town, at the edge of the forest. The trees were thick there;  tall pines crowded the m
ountains. Which meant a perfect hiding place lest we got busted for underage drinking. It wouldn't be the first time.

NPR news played through my speakers, more and more static breaking in the higher I drove up the trail. It definitely creeped me out being
in the woods at night. I mean, we've all seen
Blair Witch
. NPR had this real-world feeling to it, so I played it whenever drama or paranoia came my way. It said to me, “Hey, the world's still here. Important, actual things are going on.” Sometimes you nee
d that.

The smell of cinnamon gum and hand sanitizer floated strongly around the vehicle. It had been my cousin's, and after what had happened to her I was more than grateful to change every facet of what familiarity may have been left. Including its scent
. I applied some lip balm and checked my hair in the mirror while I steered my way through the country roads. As I swept my bangs back, there was a flash in the corner of my eye. I whipped my head around to look out the window, but whatever I'd seen wasn't
there anymore.

Blair Witch
, yeah.

Accelerating even faster, I turned up the radio's volume. NPR. Normal. Not creepy.

I reached the spot quickly enough but everyone was already there. A fire had been lit and a couple coolers sat nearby. Forgetting the st
range flash in the woods, I got out of the car and was instantly inundated with the sounds of MGMT.

“You guys are such sell-outs!” I called at my friends. A chorus of “shut ups” and one “look who's talking” came right back at me. I smiled and made an obsc
ene gesture in return.

A tall, slender girl with long red hair came running over. This was my best friend, Danielle.

“What's up, A-dawg?”

I slapped my forehead audibly. “Ugh, I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

She grinned and offered me an ic
y can of beer. “Drink with us tonight. Please,” she added when I grimaced. I wasn't much of a drinker.

But it was graduation night...

I stuck my hand out.

“
Awesome,” Danielle chirped and bounded away.

I sighed, popped the tab, and joined everyone at the
fire.

“Ah, miss music critic has graced us with her presence at last.”

I looked across the fire. “It was only so I could look upon your sweet face once more, handsome prince,” I mocked Jonathan – Jonathan Conrad, a.k.a. the hottest thing to grace Snowline
's hallways.

He had that look of a Greek god, you know, blonde ringlets, light blue eyes that
sparkled
. Damn. Though he didn't quite have that effect on me anymore.
We'd had a thing in junior high, but after our disastrous “fling,” stuff like that had bee
n off-limits. It wasn't that he wasn't hot, because he was really, really hot. It's just that sometimes the people you like the most aren't the best for you, and after our final argument had ended up in a serious Skittle-throwing fight  – like, welt seriou
s  – I'd decided that dating in school was probably a waste of my time. I'd give myself and my peers a little more time to mature.

And not bring Skittles to an argument.

Jonathan beckoned me over to the log bench he sat on. I joined him and drained my bee
r. My friends were dancing and laughing and reminiscing and I watched them quietly. I would miss this. But before I could get nostalgic about my friends – one day out of their high school careers – I reminded myself that college awaited me, too. I'd worked
my ass off so far to get there and I would be happy.
Or something like that.

A log popped in the flames, causing me to jump a little bit. The fire created strange silhouettes all around me, making living shadows on people and trees.

“
So what'd you think
of the ceremony?” Jonathan asked me mischievously.

I grinned. “Well, the intro speech was really
motivating
.”

He laughed indulgently and slapped a knee. Jonathan had been the host this year, and instead of reading the administration-approved speech he'd t
urned in, he had read something a little less polite. The phrase “booze, women, and rock & roll” had been used at least once. Our soon-to-be student body president was well known for being less than reverent.

“
So what's the deal with you and Kayla these da
ys?” Kayla had been Jonathan's most recent “fling-ee,” as I called them. Like so many of his peers, he was a serial non-commiter.

“
Well, she's moved on, I've moved on. You know how it is.” He glanced away and took a long drink.

I goaded, “I sure do. I've k
nown the last four years how it is.”

Jonathan crumpled his empty can and raised his eyebrows at me. “You had your chance, sweet lady.” Before I could sass back, he stood up. “I'll get more beer.”

As soon as he had left, Danielle took his place on the log.
“Things heating up over here?” She did an eyebrow-waggle thing. What was with these people and eyebrows?

I waved her away. “What are you always yapping about? Boys – you know none of them are good enough for me.”

She pursed her lips. “Mm-hmm. Abigail, we
are gonna get you a man one of these days. You'll see.”

“
Don't you put that curse on me, child.” We both immediately laughed.

Jonathan reappeared with two beers, a playful smile upon his face. “Now, what are you two sexy ladies giggling about over here? I
t wouldn't be over my superbly fine looks, I'm sure.”

Danielle mock-gasped. “You're right!” Then she jumped up. “I'll leave you two alone,” she melodramatically announced, laughing as she walked toward the coolers.

I rolled my eyes and Jonathan handed me
a can. “Bottoms up, punk.
If
you can handle it.”

I grabbed it from him and accused, “Did you just challenge
me
, Jonathan Conrad?”

The fire light warmed his features, allowing the gracefulness I'd always associated with them to stand out. Sometimes, in quie
t moments like these he would give me this... intense look, like he regretted something. It gave me shivers. The strange expression in his eyes was quickly replaced by one of amusement. “I was merely commenting on the fact that you can't hold your alcohol,
” he stated innocently.

“
You're on, Justin Bieber.”

And just like that, any weirdness was gone.

The next morning I woke up groggy. I didn't feel sick because, thankfully, I'd stopped after a few drinks. Takes a couple times to learn that.

Suddenly I r
ealized my phone was buzzing. I pawed for it on the bedside stand and quickly answered before it went to voicemail.

“
Hello?” I said thickly.

“
Abigail, what's up?” a voice greeted me excitedly.

My clock glowed brightly. 7:34. I groaned. “Danielle, it's way
too early.”

“
Not for this it isn't. Guess what tonight is? No wait, don't guess. You should just know.”

“
Uhhhh...” I couldn't think. It was Saturday. May. Oh damn. “You don't mean -”

“
It's the third Saturday. It's Marshmallow May!”

“
Danielle...” I hated M
arshmallow May. It was a tradition dating back to 5
th
grade, when we'd met. Basically we just got together in the woods and roasted marshmallows. Over the years it had grown from me and her to about fifteen of us – just an excuse for another party. “I thin
k I'm going to have to bail,” I told her.

Enter Danielle's prissy voice. “What? You can't.”

“
I have to. I've got, uh, family stuff.”

“
I thought your parents were in Guatemala.”

“
Exactly, they're coming back today.” Which they were.

There was silence as D
anielle tried to decide whether or not I was purposely ditching her. But she relented. “Alright. But we
have
to meet up for coffee tomorrow then. No excuses.”

“
Fine, fine. I'll see you then.”

After we hung up I quickly got ready. Obviously I'd lied to Dani
elle. And it wasn't just that I disliked “Marshmallow May,” but that today was something far more important to me. Three years ago today, my cousin Kelly had been killed. Murdered, actually. Danielle knew about it, but she didn't know that every year – sta
rting the very day Kelly had passed away – I drove up into the mountains to our favorite spot to remember her. You could see the entire city from there, and gorgeous sunsets. It was where she and I had spent many evenings together. Maybe if you love a plac
e enough, you leave a part of you there. I certainly felt nearer to her when I went.

We'd grown up together. Kelly had been two years older than I. She was a sweet, caring, beautiful person. And, though I'd never told a soul, since I was tiny it seemed th
at Kelly had been surrounded by a glow. She would walk around looking like someone stood behind her with a dim lamp. It was so crazy I'd never even brought it up to her.

Of course, it was probably some mild hallucination or schizophrenia or something, but
it was always her and no one else. An aura maybe? I'd never been sure.

Ever since her body had been found in the river, I'd been filled with a quiet rage. Something deep inside. Her killer was never identified or found and up until last year I think that
's where I'd poured my anger – in finding him. For a long time I'd frequented the jogging path she'd last been seen on, in the early mornings when it was still misty and dark. It was a reckless agenda I'd followed, waiting for him. Willing him to come my w
ay.

Those days were long past, thankfully. I shuddered, willing myself to shake it off. Today was about remembering Kelly. She was gone, but the least I could do for her was keep our old traditions alive.