Free Contributor (Contributor Trilogy, book 1) by Nicole Ciacchella

on her mother's day off. Unlike many of the mothers, Leona had always seemed fearless, and she had delighted in watching her daughter climb higher than all of the other kids.
    Sometimes, when the park was deserted and Leona didn't need to worry so much about prying eyes or frowns of disapproval, she would climb up the jungle gym with her daughter and they would pretend to be pirates setting sail on a vast sea—not that Dara had ever seen a body of water. She knew about seas because Leona had one book, a precious object that she treasured but kept secreted in a closet. Every night, Leona had read Dara one fantastical story.
    Leona was also one of the smartest people Dara knew. Her mother had always been the one who helped Dara come up with solutions to the thorniest, most difficult homework problems. When Dara was frustrated because she couldn't understand her instructors' explanations, Leona devised inventive ways of explaining things to Dara, and it would be as if someone had suddenly flicked a switch, the answer becoming crystal clear.
    "Oh, Mom," Dara said, a few rogue tears slipping down her cheeks. She pressed her lips to her mother's hand. "Mom, I'm begging you. Please, please wake up. If you don't—" Her throat closed. She received no response from Leona's still form.
    Taking a shaky breath, Dara tried a different tactic. "Do you remember that time when I was little and I tried to pour myself some juice, but I dropped the jug and the entire month's rations splattered all over the floor? I was so afraid you were going to yell at me, and I started crying my eyes out. At first, you looked angry, but then your face went all soft and you said that if we had a lake in our house, we might as well enjoy it while it lasted. And then you and I splashed and played in it, and by the time Dad found us, we were both horrible, sticky messes. I could tell he wanted to be mad at us, but he couldn't be. Instead, he just ordered us off to shower while he cleaned up."
    Despite the seriousness of the current situation, the memory made Dara smile. One of her mother's machines, which had been blipping quietly, now emitted a steady stream of beeps. Alarmed, she half-rose from the chair, her hand clutching convulsively at her mother's.
    "What did you do?" the doctor asked, rushing into the room and studying the monitor.
    "Nothing, I... Is she okay? What's happening?" her voice cracked as it rose in panic.
    "I'm sorry, I didn't meant to scare you," the doctor said, his words hurried. "This is actually a very good sign. I just wondered what you did to provoke this response from her. We haven't seen this much brain activity from her yet."
    Dara felt a surge of hope. "I was telling her about one of my memories of the two of us."
    "She must have heard you. Her brain activity increased for a minute or so, just before I came into the room."
    "Should I do it again?"
    "No, not right now." Though the doctor also looked hopeful, she could see the caution in his eyes. "But I think you should come back tomorrow and talk to her again."
    "I will," Dara said eagerly.
    "For now, let's leave her to rest."
    "All right." She was reluctant to leave, but she didn't want to overtax her mother. Turning away from the doctor, she leaned over Leona, lightly brushing a few errant strands of hair back from her mother's forehead before kissing it.
    "Goodbye, Mom. You rest, and I'll come back to see you tomorrow."
    Again, the machine beeped, though not in the same way as it had when Dara had talked about the juice. The doctor looked thrilled, but he ushered Dara out of the room just the same. She practically skipped down the corridor, a smile so huge it felt like it was splitting her cheeks spreading across her face.
    "What's happening?" her father asked. He had risen from the bench and was looking down the corridor, toward his wife's room.
    "I told her about that time with the juice—remember? And when I did, her brain showed signs of increased activity."
    "It did? That