Free Remember Me by Romily Bernard Page A

you’re the only girl in the world.
    Like you’re his reason to exist.
    â€œWell, I guess you could be into shoes or whatever,” Griff says, smiling, and then, just as suddenly, scowling. “I’m sorry about the name thing. I didn’t want to tell him who you really are.”
    â€œNo big deal. Red Queen isn’t my real name anyway.” It’s not like that’s who I am. Well. It is, but I’m changing that.
    â€œIt’s just that he’s a friend,” Griff continues. “Sorta. I trust him. It was the only way he’d take the job. Milo doesn’t really need the money.”
    â€œSeriously? That place is gross.”
    â€œI know, right?”
    We both laugh.
    Griff looks at me sideways. “I miss this.”
    â€œMiss it?” My sudden laugh dies. “We never stopped.”
    â€œIt just feels like everything’s different now.”
    â€œIt’s not.”
    â€œI know. That’s still the way it feels.”
    I lift my face for a kiss and he leans down, grabbing me with both hands. I hook my fingers into his belt loops and angle us closer.
    It makes him kiss me harder. He feels so good. Perfect even.
    His mouth moves over mine, urging me on, and I can feel that familiar hunger crawling through me, threatening to take me apart as his lips trail across my lower lip, along my jaw, and find that impossibly sensitive spot on my neck.
    â€œI gotta go,” Griff whispers against my skin.
    â€œOkay.” It’s not, but I pretend it is. I pull back, smooth my hair until you can’t probably (hopefully) tell we’ve been kissing.
    Griff watches me and, when his eyes meet mine, they’re darker than they were before. Hotter.
    â€œSee you at school?” he asks.
    â€œYeah. Sure.”
    Griff waits for me to open the front door before he starts his bike. He lifts one hand in the air, pulls into the street. I drag myself inside and barely have my shoes off before Bren’s calling me from the kitchen.
    â€œWick?”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œThere’s a package for you. I put it on the hall table.”
    Package? I drop my bag on the floor, kick it next to Lily’s yellow backpack. There are about forty different catalogs smeared across the table. Most of them are for gourmet food or cooking tools, the rest are for kids’ toys Lily and I are too old for.
    â€œDo you see it? Is it from one of the colleges we looked at?” The oven slams and something, dinner probably, clatters onto the counter. “Don’t forget they’re supposed to send you more information.”
    Forget? How could I possibly forget when you remind me every day? It should irritate me, but more and more Bren makes me smile.
    As promised, the package is at the table edge. It looks too small for glossy college brochures and for a second I don’t want to touch it. Something’s wrong here. There’s no return address. The label is computer printed. It looks clean . . . I know it’s not.
    And in my head, I hear Todd breathe my name.
    I press my shoulders against the wall and tell myself to stop it. This isn’t like what happened before.
    â€œWick?” Bren sounds closer this time like she’s approaching the hall. “Did you find it?”
    â€œYes! Thanks!”
    Get moving. I work my fingernail against the tape, then lift the box lid.
    â€œIt’s not the college stuff,” I yell, bracing one hand against the table to keep my knees from crumbling. “It’s that study guide I ordered.”
    Only it isn’t. It’s another DVD.
    Â 
    How can she look even thinner? I sit at my desk, knees tucked under my chin, as the interview progresses. It’s like watching one of those stop-motion videos. In every new interview, she looks smaller.
    Even more scared.
    It’s the only thing that feels familiar about any of this: her fear and my . . . hate? I pull my knees closer.