Free Turnabout by Margaret Peterson Haddix

we thought they all had temporary amnesia about signing the waiver forms? But nobody missed any other old memories until her birthday came along. That was the first significant memory anyone lost,” Dr. Jimson said.
    It made sense to Amelia, even though she didn’t want it to.
    “You can fix it, can’t you?” she asked again. “I don’t want to forget everything.”
    Out of habit it was Dr. Reed she appealed to, not Dr. Jimson. He was the one who’d played God and begun her unaging. He was the one who was going to make her young again and keep her that way. Surely he knew how to fix a little thing like memory.
    But it was Dr. Jimson who answered first.
    “Honestly, I don’t know what we can do,” she said. “I’m sorry. There’s still so much humans don’t understand about the brain. But we’ll do the best we can.”
    Dr. Reed glared at his wife.
    “Don’t say it like that,” he said. He came to Amelia’s bedside and patted her hand. “I promiseyou, Mrs. Hazelwood, we’ll find a way to fix this problem. And maybe we can find a way to restore your memories. Maybe they’re not really gone, just . . . inaccessible.”
    Amelia peered back at him, her eyes locked on his.
    “I still remember this,” she said. “Something I always told my kids. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
    Dr. Reed stumbled backward.
    “I’m not,” he said. “I promise. I know we can fix this.”
    But Amelia saw Dr. Jimson, still standing by the door, shaking her head sadly. And she realized something for the first time. These were not gods who had saved her life and promised her all these extra years. They were fallible human beings, practically as confused as she was about what unaging meant. They might or might not be able to restore her lost memories. They might or might not be able to stop her from forgetting more. They would try to guide her and help her, but they were not experts in life, only science—and that had its limits.
    Amelia thought back almost ninety years to a day when her four-year-old cousin had fallen into a flood-swollen creek. Amelia and her mother and sisters and aunt and cousins were washing clothes on the rocks of the creek, and Corabelle had wandered upstream, picking wildflowers. Nobody knew shewas in the water until they heard her screams. Amelia, who was only twelve, immediately shucked off her skirt and crouched to leap into the creek and grab Corabelle as the water pulled her past.
    “No!” Amelia’s mother screamed. “Amelia, no!”
    But Amelia was already in midair. The minute she landed in the water, it began tugging on her, pulling her downstream. Amelia was a strong swimmer, but her strokes were almost useless. Her head went under once, and then again, but each time she fought her way back to the surface. Blindly she reached out—and touched her cousin’s dress. She grabbed it and yanked her cousin’s body toward her own. She pushed Corabelle’s head above water, but that motion sent her own mouth and nose back down. She gulped in water and choked. With what might have been her last burst of strength, she thrust Corabelle toward the shore. Miraculously, someone caught her. Amelia tumbled in the current again, until her arm caught on a low-hanging tree limb. She held on for dear life, panting and coughing out water. After a long time someone reached out and pulled her back to solid ground. Amelia was too far gone to know if it was an aunt or a cousin or a sister. But she sat up and took notice when her mother ran to her side.
    “Mom—” Amelia moaned, reaching out for a hug.
    Her mother slapped her.
    “You fool! You could have drowned!” Hermother fell on her knees and wrapped her arms around Amelia’s shoulders. “How could you disobey like that?” She slapped her again.
    Amelia pulled back, confused. “But I saved Corabelle’s life.”
    Amelia’s mother sobbed. “But I didn’t want to lose you, too!”
    And then Amelia thought that she had got to Corabelle too