The Half Life of Molly Pierce by Leno Katrina

Author:Leno, Katrina
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperTeen

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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THIRTEEN.

You take it for granted. Waking up. Going to school, talking to your friends. Watching a show on television or reading a book or going out to lunch.

You take for granted going to sleep at night, getting up the next day, and remembering everything that happened to you before you closed your eyes.

We take it for granted.

We forget stuff along the way, sure, but mostly it’s little stuff. We forget where we put our keys or we forget to turn the curling iron off or we lie awake in bed in the middle of the night, convinced we left the stove on. Convinced we left the front door unlocked. Convinced we forgot to set the alarm.

And as we grow up, we accept that our memory gets worse. Sometimes we can’t remember what day it is. Sometimes we can’t remember if we washed our hair already. We stand in the shower dripping, unmoving.

We forget to put deodorant on.

We forget our sunglasses on the kitchen counter.

We run out of the house without our car keys. Without our purse.

Older still and now other things start to go. We cannot remember our children’s names. We call them every name we can think of until we get to the right one. We know we’re right because they finally answer us.

We put our blouse on backward.

Maybe we wear two different socks. Two different shoes.

We get into the car and we forget where we’re going, or we remember where we’re going but we forget how to get there.

And then one day maybe we forget everything altogether. We forget how old we are and we forget our names and we forget when to eat and when to sleep and we lose weight and we get big circles under our eyes.

This kind of forgetting, this is almost okay.

Because it is expected.

But when you are young, when you are my age, you take it for granted.

You get up. You have your day. You go to sleep.

You remember everything you did.

This is normal.

We remember.

We live and we remember.

You live and you remember.

But me.

Me, I live and I forget.

Except now.

Now I am remembering.

And I’m not sure what I liked better.

Being in the dark or being thrust unceremoniously into the light.

Lyle tells me how he feels about me. It is early fall. September. I knew this was coming.

I knew this was coming, but it is still a surprise when the words leave his mouth. He brings to me a small Mexican restaurant. It’s out of the way and a little run-down, and from the outside it looks like some kind of trap. There is no one else there. I get quesadillas. I sip water the entire time he talks to me, and when he’s finished, I can’t even meet his eyes.

What is worse, to have your heart broken or to be the one doing the breaking?

I’ll take the first choice, any day.

I’m good at being unhappy.

I’m good at accommodating my sadness.

I can’t be with Lyle.

I can’t be with anybody, really, but I’ve made an exception for Sayer.

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