The Memory Jumper by Amanda Michelle Brown

Author:Amanda Michelle Brown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9798985010251
Publisher: Lost Island Press

FOURTEEN

ADELAIDE

The last thing I see before I diffuse into Mason’s mind is his eyes staring trustingly into mine. Then I’m back in his memory.

I find the staircase and climb down to his subconscious.

Everyone’s subconscious smells different. The smells never mean anything to me, but I know that they would mean something to the person whose mind I’m in. Mason’s subconscious smells like a Christmas tree. Fawn has never gotten us a Christmas tree; it’s never really mattered to me whether it was Christmas or not, to be honest, so I haven’t made a big deal about it. But, for a while, she was really into Christmas tree candles. I make a mental note to ask Mason about that later.

I rifle through the shelves. It’s weird to be looking, but not really looking. Mason is right. There aren’t any skeletons, at least that I can see.

Then…there’s a golden sphere next to our country’s flag. I pick it up and it feels like a memory: just a whisper of emotion, a tinge of reality, and a lot of warmth. I swipe my hand across it and it opens, displaying itself in the air like a hologram.

The memory is hazy and in black and white, slightly blurred, with a stain of confusion. Ah…this is a memory from when he was a baby.

Baby Mason focuses on a woman. Her eyes are adoring and she picks him up and holds him tight to her. Her hair is a mess, her eyes tired. The hug tightens and a man’s face appears over her shoulder. He rubs a hand over baby Mason.

I memorize the faces. These must have been his parents. It’ll be especially hard going off this since I don’t even have the color of their hair or eyes. But from what I can tell, his mother has whitish blonde hair and his dad has hair anywhere on the scale of dark brown to black. One of them must have shocking blue eyes.

The memory fades out, and I release myself from Mason’s brain.

“Nice landing,” he says as soon as I open my eyes. “You aren’t on the ground.”

“Gee, thanks for reminding me about last time.”

Mason sits there expectantly. I pause for a moment. “So?”

“Memories have smells sometimes, and yours smells like a Christmas tree. Why?”

He throws his hands in the air. “That’s seriously what you have to report back?”

I shrink back. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no—I’m joking,” he says quickly. “I’m not actually mad.”

“Oh.” I sigh. “Okay. Um, but no, I’m really curious.”

“I mean, I guess I do love Christmas,” he says. “I’ve had a lot of great Christmases with Pippa. She gave me a lot of gifts that got me to where I am now, being an inventor and all that.”

“That’s a lame reason,” I comment.

He puts his hands on his heart. “Well, I am sorry. Now, onto the real question: Did you find them?”

I pause for dramatic effect, then: “I saw them.”

“Yes! You’re the best!” He jumps off the couch and fires his questions. “How old

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