Mary E. Pearson
265 pages; published 2008
On the eighth day Father had to return to work in Boston. He and Mother whispered, but I still heard. Risky … have to get back … you’ll be fine. Before he left he cupped my face in both of his hands. “Little by little, Angel,” he said. “Be patient. Everything will come back. Over time all the connections will be made.” I think my gait is normal now. My memory is not. I don’t remember my mother, my father, or Lily. I don’t remember that I once lived in Boston. I don’t remember Jenna Fox.
Father says it will come in time. “Time heals,” he says.
I don’t tell him that I don’t know what time is. (7)
That's the problem. Jenna doesn't remember. She doesn't remember her mother, her father, even herself. She doesn't remember why her grandmother seems to hate her and she doesn't remember the accident that left her in a coma for over a year. She doesn't remember anything at all. What's more, the little bits that are coming back to her piece by piece are leaving her with the awkward suspicion that something is not quite right.
There is something curious about where we live. Something curious about Father and his nightly phone calls with Mother. And certainly something curious about me. Why can I remember the details of the French Revolution but I can’t remember if I ever had a best friend? (12)
Why is she not allowed to leave the house? Why did they move from Boston to California? How did they time their move to her waking up so perfectly? And, if California is their new home, why does her father spend all his time in Boston, keeping his job at the large bio-engineering research hospital?
What aren't they telling her? What doesn't she remember?
My Reviews: 2/42
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