Forgotten Self (Forgotten Self #1) (4 page)

“
Guess a storm's on its way,” I whisper, looking up at the sky.

That night, I do the thing I've been doing every night since the beginning of the summer.

I visit Kelly's grave.

Now, I have the perspective to see that maybe visiting your dead cousin's grave in the early morning hours isn't something that should happ
en every night. But I can't help it. At some point last May...I'm not sure. That anxious, rubber band feeling around my heart had returned. The grief. I'd been so good, so healed. And then something had touched me. Flashes of it still – a light...

It didn'
t matter.

I came here now to be with her. It was almost like punishment, because it hurt me to see her name etched upon stone, her body's map marker. I would sit right at the end of the grave and just look. Sometimes I would feel something, sometimes it w
as just numbness. Dark. Cold.

I do this night after night, searching for something. I fear that I will begin that early morning ritual of waiting for her killer again. The jogging path.

Even just thinking of the path causes painful, indecipherable images
to present themselves to me. Kelly, running. Then shadows, suffocating. Icy water. Laughter.

I groan and lean back on the grass, willing it all out of my mind. Focus, Abby. A dry little voice in the back of my mind quips:
Too bad your parents aren't here t
o drag you off to a psychiatrist.

The wind whispers its songs through the cemetery trees. The grass feels prickly through my shirt. I sit up and examine the stone marker in front of me.

Kelly Marie Jacobs

Daughter, Sister, Friend

1990 – 2009

What am I doin
g here? There's nothing to find. And tonight, no connection.

I rise from the ground and lay a gentle hand on the grave stone. Bye cousin, I think.

Then I shrug my coat on, zipping it firmly and redirecting my focus. Time to go home. I begin to walk out of
the cemetery without another thought. Well, almost. My footsteps are steady and
confident until I reach the gates – and then I feel what I've felt every damn time I've left the cemetery all summer.

Someone's watching me.

5

T
he next morning, frost is covering the grass. It's early and I trudge downstairs to turn on the television and eat breakfast. CNN comes up. Apparently my parents had been the last ones to watch anything down here. I put some bread inside the toaster and my
ears perk up when I hear the news anchor say something about Maine.

“
It has been reported that a severe storm front has moved its way into the eastern seaboard. Forecasters are warning that parts of New Hampshire and Maine will experience wind speeds of u
p to seventy miles an hour and flooding in towns closest to the coast in the next few days. It has been recommended that residents of the counties listed on your screen prepare for this storm by bringing loose patio furniture inside, chaining garbage cans
to a fence or a post, and fueling your emergency generator should you have one. Further safety suggestions can be found online at CNN.com or by calling the National Weather Service. We will announce updates as we receive them. In other news...” I roll my e
yes and sigh. My county has been listed, as we are only twenty-ish miles from the coast. I hate storms, always have. Something about them bothers me right down to the core. It's worse alone, and of course I'm going to be alone for this one.

When I get to
school, Jonathan is waiting for me on the sidewalk. “What's up?” I ask.

“
You look tired,” he says, looking at the dark circles under my eyes.

I roll my shoulders uncomfortably. Time to buy new concealer. I don't want anyone to know about my nights, my comm
union with the dead.

Jonathan realizes that I'm not going to respond, so he continues. “Did you hear about the storm?”

I nod. “Yeah. I feel like my parents plan these events so I'll be alone when bad stuff happens.” I smirk and add, “I'm glad to have such
a sweet, caring family.”

“
I know how you feel. My family's gone too.” He shrugs.

We walk inside together and something is bugging me. After a minute, I realize what it is. Jonathan
never
talks about his family. In fact I don't think I've ever met them, whi
ch is strange, considering we've been good friends so long. He'd always been so vague about them when I asked that I'd eventually stopped asking.

I decide that I must be on edge from yesterday and continue on my way to class with Jonathan, chatting about
nothing in particular.

In first hour, once again, Lucas sits next to me. I ignore him, talking to Madison about cheer. She is miffed. 

“
God, Lissa is so annoying,” Madison says grouchily.

“
What happened?”

“
Yesterday at practice she was telling all the
girls that I'd hooked up with Marcus Jensen and that I'm pregnant.” Marcus is the football team's quarterback. Good looking and everything, but he and Madison had dated for a while last year and ended it with a huge blow out at commencement. Now he's datin
g some junior.

“
What the hell?” I exclaim as quietly as I can.

“
I know. I'm gonna get her back,” she says determinedly. 

My eyes go wide. “Careful, Madison.”

She frowns at me. “What would you do you were in my position, huh? Take it lying down?”

“
No, I'
d kill her with kindness.” I grin and wink at her. Madison shakes her head.

Mr. Lehman is late today. The class is noisy while we wait for him to show up. I am drawing pictures in my notebook when I feel a tap on my shoulder. It's Lucas. I shrink back a l
ittle as that
discomfort crawls up into my chest.

“
Hi,” I say, and look back at my drawing.

He chuckles. “Hello, Abigail.” When I don't answer, he continues. “I was wondering if you wanted to get together later.”

I break the tip of my pencil in surprise.
“What?” I ask, slowly turning towards him.

There is no hint of a smile on his face; he's completely serious. “Do you want to hang out later?”

I look over at Madison, who is staring at us and she shrugs, leaving me on my own. “Um...” I turn back to Lucas.
“Sure,” I tell him, not really knowing why.

There is a debate going on in my mind. He makes me uncomfortable, but why? Is it intuition, or something else? If I hang out with him will I end up strangled in a ditch?

I guess I'm going to find out.

When the
final bell rings, I'm walking toward the exit to meet with Lucas when Jonathan catches up with me. “Hey. What are you up to?”

I wrinkle my nose without meaning to. “That new kid Lucas wants to hang out with me.”

“
Oh,” he replies, and says nothing else.

O
n a whim I ask him, “Want to come?” Maybe not being alone with creepy boy would be better.

Jonathan smiles. “Definitely.”

“
Good.”

We walk out to my car, where Lucas is waiting. If I hadn't been looking at Jonathan when Lucas  came into sight, I wouldn't h
ave noticed the slight surprise, and then the grimace that came over his face. “Something wrong?”

He looks at me like he'd forgotten I was there. He quickly smooths his features. “Of course not.” He runs his fingers through his golden curls. Ah, many a wom
an would die to have such hair.

Frowning at Jonathan's deflection, I turn away from him and focus on Lucas. He's leaning on his car, arms crossed, a calm expression on his face. Once we reach him I awkwardly say, “Hi.” Jonathan says nothing.

Lucas smiles
that small smile – one that reaches his eyes. “Hi.”

Neither one of us says anything for a moment until I remember who is standing next to me. “Oh yeah,” I announce, “this is my good friend Jonathan. Jonathan, this is -”

“
Lucas,” Jonathan interrupts. “Yeah,
I heard.”

Again I frown. What is up with him? “So anyway, I hope you don't mind if he comes with us, Lucas. I don't know what you were planning, but...”

“
No, no,” Lucas interjects. “That's totally fine.”

The guys stare silently at each other for a minute
while I text someone back. I clear my throat when they don't notice I've finished. Both of them look at me, the tension momentarily broken. “So, should we go?”

Lucas smiles again. “Of course. Why don't we drop your car off at your house and then we'll go
from there. I'll follow you.”

We part ways and as soon as I drive away, I turn to Jonathan. “What the hell was that all about?”

He doesn't look at me. “What was what about?”

My eyes roll involuntarily. “I don't get boys. I just don't get them.”

Nothing mor
e comes out of either of our mouths until we get to my house. Then, as I park in the garage, Jonathan speaks up. “You mind if I stay here tonight?”

I'm a little shocked but I say, “That's fine. Is everything okay?”

“
I just thought you might like a little c
ompany during the storm since your parents are gone. And since
mine
are gone...” He trails off, not needing to finish.

The more I think about it, the more I like it. Now I'll have an excuse to not make my trek to the cemetery. “Yeah. That would be nice.” W
e get out of the car and I see Lucas is already out of his, waiting for us.

“
You know, I should run home and get some stuff,” Jonathan says abruptly. “For tonight.”

“
Are you sure?”

He nods and starts walking away. I call after him, “You can take my car!”

“
It's alright,” he calls back. “It'll be nice to walk in the fresh air.”

I meet Lucas at his car, a new-looking silver Audi. “I guess we're going solo. Nice ride, by the way.”

“
Thank you.” He opens the door for me. “I just got it.” There seems to be some
joke behind this, but he shuts the door before I can study his expression more. Whatever. My eye catches an MP3 jack and I pull my iPod out of my pocket. I scroll through it and pick something I think we might both like. Actually, it's my favorite album –
Low's
Things We Lost in the Fire
. Something about it's slow intensity reminds me of Lucas. He starts the car and I plug it in.

As the music starts to play, I lean back against the window and breathe in the new car smell. “So, cowboy, where we off to?”

He
doesn't look at me but I can tell he's amused. “I thought I'd show you a really great place in the mountains. You can see the whole city from there.”

My eyebrows furrow and there's a little twist inside my stomach. I hope he's not going where I think he's
going. “Hmmm,” is all I say.

The rest of the drive is quiet, but as soon as he makes the turnoff onto Ridgeland Drive I know exactly where we're going. I'm going to have to do everything I can to not make this weird. No need for creepy boy to know anythin
g about Kelly.

We reach the spot in no time and when we step out of the car, the sun is setting. The clouds have cleared for the moment, allowing us to take in the scene. Without prompting, I sit on his car's hood. I say nothing. This is so weird: the plac
e, the timing, not to mention the entire drive I'd felt the discomfort I got from being around Lucas. He feels familiar and wrong. I don't know what it is.

Lucas sits next to me and stretches his arms. “What do you think?”

Before I answer, I happen to loo
k down at the rocks below us and it triggers something I don't understand. Flashes of pain and blood, a loud noise. My breathing tightens and I force myself to look back up into the sky. “It's nice.” I realize I'm rubbing my arm roughly. Something was in h
ere, something – but what? I've never hurt my arm before. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

Soon I notice that Lucas is watching me, not the sunset. I stare right back. “What?” I challenge. It's almost like I felt some sort of hostility towards
him, like...

Lucas responds,“You love coming to this spot.” It's not a question.

I'm confused. “What do you mean?”

“
I mean, you come here a lot. Alone now.”