Symptoms

by Lyndsey Werner

“Dr. Price, did you get my test results back?” I asked, as the doctor flipped through a folder marked ‘Anna Adams’. Dr. Price turned to me, and her expression made my heart sink.

“I’m sorry, Anna.” She said softly. My hands tightened on my bag. “There’s no change.” I looked down and noticed my hands, though clenched, were trembling.

“You still don’t understand what’s going on?” I asked through a constricted throat.

“No one’s seen anything like it.” Dr. Price replied in a pained voice. “The aggression, the dramatic increase in brain activity…”

“It’s killing me.” I finished. Dr. Price hadn’t wanted to admit it, but it was the truth.

“Every time you have one of your ‘mental seizures’ it damages your brain, little by little.” Dr. Price said reluctantly. My vision blurred. No, I did not want to cry. I had to regain control of my emotions. “I’m so sorry, Anna.” Dr. Price said. “I thought we’d make progress after we discovered that compound in your system. But we haven’t even been able to identify it.”

I took a deep breath; my emotions were coming under my control. “Dr. Price, how long do I have?” I asked quietly. Dr. Price didn’t answer. “Please,” I said softly. “Tell me.”

“There’s no way to know.” Dr. Price spoke reluctantly. “Another six seizures, and I will certainly want you hospitalized.”

“So about four months.” I said.

“Five, if we’re lucky, after that…” Dr. Price trailed off, looking away. That caught my attention.

“Dr. Price,” I stood in front of her. “Look at me.” Dr. Price reluctantly raised her eyes to meet mine. “This is not your fault, you shouldn’t feel guilty about me.”

“No, I,” The shame drained from Dr. Price’s face, replaced with determination. “I’m not.” Her voice was stronger. I almost stumbled sideways. That was a lot of guilt. Dr. Price opened a file. “Anna,” I looked up at her, feeling like I’d done something wrong. “You mentioned last year that you thought someone else might have the same condition. I need to know who that is.” I fidgeted, feeling guilty about keeping things from her, but I’d learned how to distance myself from emotions a long time ago.

“I’ll consider it.” I said, the emotion failing to influence me, and I distanced myself from it.

“Anna, if this person has stabilized, the way you think she has, she could lead to a cure!” Dr. Price exclaimed.

“Which is why I’ll consider it!” I snapped. Adjusting my bag, I walked out. “I’ll see you next week.”

As I walked out into the waiting room, I noticed a couple at the reception desk.

“Back again, Mrs. Walker.” The nurse said sympathetically.

“She fell down the stairs.” Mr. Walker gruffly interjected, cutting off whatever his wife might have said. The nurse glared at him. I could guess what really happened.

“Hey Ed!” I grabbed his arm and he looked down at me. We locked eyes. “Sorry, my mistake.” I said, letting him go and walking away, feeling better.

Mr. Walker, on the other hand, turned to his wife, and abruptly broke down, apologizing fervently to the astonishment of Mrs. Walker and the nurse.

Confused? Don’t be. I simply gave him the guilt I had taken from Dr. Price. If I lock eyes with someone, I can identify their emotions, and, if I want to, I can take those emotions from them. I can also transfer emotions though eye contact, but if I do, I lose the emotion. Of course, all of it is only temporary. With the same stimulus, the emotion will build back up. Dr. Price would start feeling guilty about being unable to help me again. But I could relieve her of her guilt for a while at least.

I guess that this ability makes me a beta being. I’m not a superbeing though. Superbeings are people with abilities who choose to use them to become heroes or villains. I’m neither, just a 15-year-old girl who has a minor power, and a major problem because of it. An illness… That is looking more and more likely to be terminal.

I’d never told Dr. Price that I knew where my condition came from, or at least I suspected it.

I must have been five or six years old. I think I was at a birthday party, because somehow my best friend and I got away from the group at the park. Instead of going back to the group we ran off to dig up the buried treasure we had hidden earlier. I think that we were going to give it to the birthday girl, but I just can’t remember.

“Hey, what’s that?” I’d asked my friend, pointing. There was a truck in the parking lot. I’m not sure why I even noticed it. She’d looked over and grinned mischievously.

“Let’s check it out.” We got closer to the truck.

“Look, bunnies!” I whispered, thrilled. My best friend bounced excitedly. A pair of men were loading cages of rabbits into one truck. Large barrel like canisters sat beside them, waiting to be loaded into another truck. One of the men glanced over as the other guy called him. He put the bunny cage on the edge of the truck and walked away. The bunny hopped, and my friend and I gasped in horror, as the cage crashed to the ground. We ran up to the cage as fast as our five-year-old legs could carry us. We worked together to right the cage, and my best friend opened the cage and took out the bunny. We fawned over the bunny, and didn’t even hear the two men struggling with something heavy. One of them must have knocked over a canister because my friend and I suddenly found ourselves covered in weird smelling liquid. The man started yelling and the two of use ran for it. Scared out of our minds.

I was sure that was where I’d gotten my ability, and my illness. The foreign compound in my brain was probably a result of being doused in that weird liquid. Maybe it seemed like a leap, but aside from me, there’s only one beta being in my city. The person my best friend had grown up into, the Memory Meddler.

The Memory Meddler, MM, is a teen superhero that works solely with the police. She mainly helped with interrogation. She’s not a vigilante. The Memory Meddler was never involved in altercations. Why do I think she is the same girl I was with? The Memory Meddler’s power is the same as mine, far better developed, but the same. Just as I can take and transfer emotions. MM can take and transfer memories.

The problem is I don’t remember her name. My family moved when I was six and I lost touch with her. My parents died when I was 12, so I can’t ask them who she was. All I had was a picture of the two of us together.

I’m worried. Worried any steps I take to find her could compromise MM’s identity, and her safety. MM is my age, but she has a lot of enemies.

I was eating dinner with my aunt and uncle when my hands started shaking. Not now. I stood abruptly.

“Sorry,” My voice was curt and tense. “I have something I need to take care of.”

“Anna?” Aunt Dee began, but I was out the door before she could finish.

I didn’t go far. I couldn’t go far. I just had to leave. I couldn’t make the people who’d taken me in worry. My hands were clenched so tightly that my nails were digging into my palms, making them bleed. I needed to get to the shed.

I bumped into someone in my hurry.

“Hey, babe,” He said, grabbing my arm. “What’s your hurry?” I punched him in the face. “Hey!” He yelled, stumbling back, holding his nose.

“Walk away.” I snarled. There was something in my voice and face that made him comply. I quickly walked to the shed.

A small shed in an otherwise vacant lot, with various bags, debris, even a rusting car, surrounding it. The lot was hidden from view by a chain link fence with two green covering, one cloth, and the other those diagonal plastic slates. I threw open the fence and slammed it closed, fumbling with the padlock until it was secure. Then I turned, and with a primal cry, began systematically destroying everything in the lot.

There are some emotions, I think, that simply aren’t fair to unleash on the world or an individual. One of those is aggression. I don’t trust others to keep it under control. So I just carry the emotion with me until it fades. It’s usually not a problem, except for when I have a mental seizure. The first symptom is loss of emotional control. It’s quite unnerving. I completely destroyed my room during my first incident. I’d hoped it was just some random thing, but after my second incident, I realized I needed somewhere my seizures could hit me without scaring my family. So I found this place.

I stiffened in the middle of swinging a pipe at a bag of already broken glass. The pipe clattered to the ground as I stumbled to the shed, entering the second stage of my seizure. This was the painful part, but all I could do was endure it. I collapsed on a mattress I kept inside the shed. I don’t know how to describe what happened next. It’s fragmented, and excruciating, and it leaves my mind feeling exposed. Intellectually I know that this is the part where my brain tissue is being damaged.

I don’t know how long I lay there. The pain and vulnerability subsided, slowly ebbing away. I consciously controlled my breathing, until the effects of the seizure vanished entirely. Then I slowly sat up, and rubbed my eyes. Ow.

I brushed the hair sticking to my clammy forehead to one side. I only had five seizures to permanent hospitalization. I never thought it would come to this when I first went to see Dr. Price two years ago. I gingerly stood up, steadying myself on the wall. I walked out of the shed. I had done quite a number on the yard this time. I prowled around the lot. I couldn’t go home just yet. I felt sore, and was sensitive to light and sound. The fence wasn’t just to protect the world from me. It was to protect me from the world. So I could acclimatize.

This was real. I was going to die if I didn’t work something out. I thought about my aunt and uncle. I never interfered with their emotions, but I knew how much they loved me. It would come as a complete shock to them. I’d downplayed my condition significantly, and used money from my parents’ trust for the appointments and treatment. I didn’t want them to worry, so I let them think nothing was wrong. I kept Dr. Price from talking to them directly, and convinced them that it was a minor neurological problem, easily controlled. In many ways it was selfish of me. They would be the ones to suffer if I died. They’d wonder how they didn’t see it. Why I didn’t come to them. I needed to survive.

I sat at my desk, the old picture in front of me. My history spread over my desk. I needed to find MM. I picked up the old picture. My hair was cut boyishly short, and I grinned, my arm slung over the shoulder of a girl laughing happily. The girl had long brown hair, and sparkling brown eyes. Why couldn’t I remember her name?!

I’d attended Birchwood Elementary, assuming MM had stayed in the area, she’d be at Elwood now. I remembered being in class with her, so she must be in 10th grade. I paid thirty bucks to download Elwood’s yearbook. I scrolled down to the sophomore section and almost cried. I’d known it was going to be difficult, but how was I supposed to identify MM from more than 200 girls?!

I wanted to take the easy way out. To go to the detective who worked with MM most closely and beg her to introduce me to MM, or try to follow MM from the station. But the police were vigilant about protecting their greatest asset. Only two detectives knew how to contact her. I didn’t think they even knew who she was.

I couldn’t involve people who knew the Mental Meddler personally, until I was really desperate. MM’s identity had to be protected not just from criminals, but also her allies on the police force. I didn’t want to put her at risk. I had to do this the hard way.

Over the next two days I worked to shave down the list of girls who might be MM. I’d thought of a pretty simple plan to find out too. I’d just make a copy of my old picture, crop myself out, and ask each girl if it was a picture of her. If they asked why I wanted to know, I could just say I was working on a project for the old elementary school and I needed to identify her. I still needed to shorten the list, since I couldn’t exactly ask every sophomore girl with brown hair and eyes. I really wish I could just send out a mass email, but since email addresses aren’t included in yearbooks, I was stuck, muddling through the photos, trying to squeeze all the information I could out of the yearbook and social media sites. I finally had a stroke of luck when old Mrs. Willis responded to one of my emails. Who knew she could work a computer? Mrs. Willis said, of course she remembered me, but she couldn’t quite recall the name of the other girl. However, she did include the class roster. Using it, I was able to cut my list of 70 girls to 10. For the first time, I actually thought I might find her. I might be cured.

The next problem was transportation. Thanks to the city’s sucky bus system, it would take me over two hours with four transfers to get to Elwood High! I couldn’t get a ride from my aunt or uncle because I’d have to skip school to get to Elwood before the girls went home. Since it was only a 20-minute drive (Our city transportation really sucks) I could maybe take a cab, but I was reluctant to after spending so much on the yearbook.

I took the bus. I walked to the stop when my uncle dropped me off. If I was lucky, I’d get there before lunch. Not that I knew what time lunch was. I snuck on campus, and took the time that everyone was in class trying to get a feel for the school’s lay out.

The bell rang. I looked eagerly around for one of the girls, but it was just a three-minute break for students to get to their next classes. I didn’t see any of the 10 girls. I walked, somewhat dejectedly, around campus. What was I thinking? I needed a better plan than wandering around hoping to run into one of the girls. I straightened, and walked resolutely to the school office.

“Excuse me.” I addressed the receptionist. He looked up at me in surprise. “I’m working on a project for Birchwood Elementary School. I need to talk to a few students, but I’m not sure where to find them.” I smiled, trying to appear both nervous and sweet. “I really don’t want to interrupt them during class, so I was hoping I could get a map of the school and maybe their class schedule? If that’s okay? Then I can catch them between classes.”

“What kind of project is this?” The receptionist asked suspiciously.

“It’s a Small Scout project.” I improvised. “I’m trying to earn my Shine Award.” I locked eyes with him, and gave him all of my feelings of nostalgia. “I’m collecting before and after photos of students for a bunch of retired teachers.” I expanded. The receptionist was misty eyed.

“I remember working for my Glimmer Award.” He said, lost in memories. “My teacher, Mrs. Leve was our troop leader. I wonder how she is…” The receptionist glanced around. “Look, I’d love to help you out, but I’m not sure if I can do it.”

“Do what?” A woman asked as she walked out of an office in the back. The receptionist glanced back at her.

“Vice-principal, this girl is trying to earn her Shining Award for Small Scouts.” The receptionist went on to explain what I was doing for my ‘project’. The VP glanced at me. I stiffened. I didn’t feel any nostalgia at all, I’d used it all on the receptionist. Reluctantly, I locked eyes with her, and took a decent amount of her suspicion away. Added to my own naturally wary nature, it was going to make me downright paranoid until I found someone to unload it on.

“What an admirable project.” The VP said, quite impressed with me. “I don’t see a problem with giving her their schedules, after all, it must be hard tracking them down.”

“Thank you very much!” I smiled at them. I handed the receptionist my list. Keeping a close eye on both of them.

“Feel free to use the library during classes.” The VP smiled, seemingly genuinely, as the receptionist printed up the schedules.

“I’ll do that.” I said, with no intention of going anywhere I could be found easily. I left the office, flipping rapidly through the schedules and a map of the school. I passed a couple making out in the hallway, and made eye contact with the boy.

“Hey, we’d better get back to class.” He said abruptly, pulling away from his girlfriend. “We don’t want a TA to catch us.” I still carried most of the suspicion with me, apparently vice principals are extremely suspicious people. I took a seat on a bench and organized the eleven class schedules. After a while I closed my eyes and composed myself. My conscious thoughts were above my emotions, aware of them, but only slightly tinged by them. I’m use to completely distancing myself from extra emotions like aggression, misery, and excitement. Suspicion is one of the few emotions I actively allow to influence my actions. That was why I was having more trouble, dealing with more than double the suspicion I’m used to was proving difficult.

I jerked violently as the bell rang. Just a bell, not a fight or flight scenario. I waited out side a door as a bunch of people walked out.

“Excuse me, Maria Wells?” I spotted her. She turned. “I’m working on a project for Birchwood Elementary.” I held the photo out to her. “Is this you?” Maria glanced at it.

“Nope, sorry. I only wore purple at that age.”

“Thank you for your help.” I smiled, ignoring the feeling gnawing at me that she was lying. During the rush to class I found two other girls who denied being the girl in the photograph. Jenny Smith hadn’t even gone to Birchwood, she just had the same name as “an irritating model wannabe”.

I hurried to the next class, but was too late. Lily Austin was already inside, and class was starting. I sighed as I turned away, only to jump violently as the door opened and the students filed out, carrying sketchbooks and charcoal. It was an art class, and they were headed outside to work.

Lily set up slightly far from the others. After a moment of hesitation I approached her.

“Excuse me.” Lily looked up and blinked big round eyes at me. “I don’t mean to bother you.” I said quickly. “But, is this you?” I held out the picture, Lily took it and examined it closely.

“It could be.” She finally said, handing it back. “I had the same headband but they were really popular in that class.”

“But it could be you? I asked desperately clutching the photo.

“It might not be.” Lily said tranquilly. She almost radiated calm, even easing some of my suspicion. “Could you sit there?” She nodded across from her.

“Uh, sure.” I said hesitantly. Lily pulled out a pencil and started sketching at a speed I could never match. “Um, do you recognize me?” I asked, stiffening as I realized she was drawing me.

“Vaguely,” My heart leapt. “But that doesn’t mean much. I have a tendency to see similarities in faces, even with people who aren’t related.” Lily dropped her pencil and picked up some charcoal. My hope dimmed, but didn’t go out. “Do you have a brother?” Lily inquired, shading carefully, but still at a pace I’d never achieve.

“No,” I answered. My hope sinking steadily.

“Must be a coincidence then.” Lily checked the light falling on my face and frowned. “That’s no good, you looked so interesting a moment ago.”

“Interesting?” I asked. It didn’t sound like an insult, but it didn’t sound like a compliment either…

“Worried, but with sudden, oh, what’s the emotion?” Lily fretted, looking from me to the sketch. A wry smile curved my mouth.

“Emotion, huh?” I laughed shortly.

“Oh, look at that!” Lily cried in delight. “Yes! Keep that face!” She opened to a new page and started sketching furiously, determined to grab my elusive expression.

I was stuck there almost the entire period. Suspicion tugged at me a couple of times, but every time it elicited an ecstatic gasp from Lily, and a new page in her sketchbook.

Ten minutes to the next bell, the teacher gave a five-minute warning. Lily bit her lip. “Shoot, I forgot to do the assignment.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you.” I said.

“Keep that expression.” Lily automatically commanded, flipping to a blank page.

“Oh no.” I said, covering my face. “You do your assignment. I’ll apologize to your teacher.”

“Don’t bother, he’ll like these better.” Lily glanced at the teacher. “Let me just.” She added a few strokes to one of the pictures, and I slipped away.

Lily was interesting, and thought she might be the girl in the photo. She was also a little… odd. I wasn’t sure if I could depend on her identification. I should check with the other girls to make sure. The bell rang.

Four girls, two recognized the girl from elementary school, though they could not remember her name. One girl said that she use to have blond hair, but it darkened to brown a couple years back. The last one simply said no. I distributed some suspicion as I walked the halls, just a little extra caution for thirty odd students, and my suspicion was within manageable portion.

Three to go. I walked to the library, intending to do some of my homework while I waited. The librarian did a double take when I walked in.

“Oh, aren’t you Lily’s new model?” She asked with a smile. I blinked.

“Sorry?” The librarian shuffled through a few papers on her desk and pulled out a lovely sketch of me, with a somewhat surprised and melancholy expression on my face. I had no idea my face was so expressive. I actually found it kind of depressing. Maybe I didn’t have as much control over my emotions as I thought…

“Lily was quite excited about you.” The librarian, Mrs. Bobbin according to the plaque on her desk, commented. “She’s usually such a calm girl.”

“Really?” I glanced at her. “What’s she like?”

“Oh, dreamy, thoughtful. Sort of like those artistic stereotypes that the media propagate.” She waved her hand. “Except for when someone tries to break the rules.” Mrs. Bobbin shrugged. “Lily is a surprising stickler for the rules.” Mrs. Bobbin looked closely at me. “Do you have a cousin? I know you don’t have a brother, but the similarity must be staggering.”

“Um, no. What similarity?” I asked, my heart was beating rapidly.

“Lily said that you remind her of a boy that she had a crush on.” Mrs. Bobbin shrugged. “But I guess it’s just a coincidence.”

We chatted a bit more, then I walked to a table and sat down. Maybe Lily was the Memory Meddler. I was probably with Lily a lot of the time, and maybe seeing me just reminded her of being with the boy she had a crush on. That was assuming she was the girl I remembered. But it was seeming more and more likely. The Memory Meddler was very careful not to interfere with the proper authorities. She cared about the law. Lily was, as Mrs. Bobbin said, a stickler for the rules. I sat there, wondering, and not managing to get any homework done at all.

Finally it was lunchtime. I waited outside the classroom where two possibilities were in attendance. Megan Walters was one of the first people out.

“Excuse me, Megan?” I began, but she brushed past me. “Hey!” I grabbed her wrist. Megan turned and ripped it away.

“What do you want?” Megan asked bluntly, rubbing her wrist. I hadn’t grabbed her hard at all, certainly not hard enough to warrant that obsessive rubbing.

“Sorry,” I involuntarily lifted my hands up, trying to respect her personal space. “I just want to know if this is you.” I reached into my pocket and held up the picture.

“Why?” Megan demanded. There was something strange about her, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Well, I’m doing a project.” I began.

“No, why ask me.” Megan cut me off abrasively. “She was your best friend.” Megan turned and vanished into the crowd.

“Wait! What’s her name?!” I cried desperately. I tried to follow her. A couple of students gave me odd looks, and I realized what had seemed so strange about Megan. She hadn’t tried to make eye contact, not even once. I avoided looking directly at the eyes out of habit, but Megan had actively avoided looking at my face. Why would she do that? Unless, I looked at the picture. Unless…

I turned to the classroom door, and found myself face to face with the prettiest girl I had ever seen. It too me a minute to recognize her as the last girl on my list, Eva Caine. My encounter with Megan had completely driven her from my mind.

“Oh,” Eva said after a moment. “Sorry.” She stepped aside, so I could go into the classroom.

“Ah, no.” I shook my head. “It’s you I’m- I mean, I was actually looking for you. Eva Caine, right?” Eva’s cheeks tinged pink. Her yearbook photo didn’t do her justice.

“Really?” She glanced at her bag. “I’m about to go to lunch, if you want to come with me.”

“Sure.” I said, and we started walking. “I just wanted to show you a photograph.” I reached into my pocket. Where was it? I glanced down, and embarrassedly realized the picture was still in my other hand. I hadn’t put it away after my confrontation with Megan. “Is this you?” I handed Eva the photo. Eva studied it closely.

“You know, I think it is.” Eva said. My hopes leapt and then swirled in confusion. I’d really expected her to say no, after Megan’s odd behavior. I’d been sure it was Megan. “It’s weird though.” She frowned. “I was really camera shy at that age, and I don’t remember this picture being taken.” Eva glanced at me. “I remember almost all of the pictures I was in because cameras really freaked me out.”

“She doesn’t look too traumatized.” I noted.

“Yeah, maybe she just looks like me.” Eva agreed. My shoulders slumped. “I could never take a picture like that on my own.”

Eva told me where to find Megan. Apparently she preferred to eat lunch alone. As I walked to where Megan usually ate, I mulled over the possibilities in my mind. I hadn’t anticipated this. That not one but three girls might be MM.

Lily was odd, and seemed to recognize me. However, she’d asked about a brother, and given her acute eye for detail, it probably wasn’t me. I’d been grasping at straws when I was trying to justify her recognition.

Megan was the most suspicious. Her reaction to me was almost hostile. She’d demanded to know why I didn’t know who the girl in the picture was. Could Megan have been insulted I didn’t recognize her?

Then there was Eva, the only one who had positively identified herself in the photo, but ruled herself out due to her extreme camera shyness. Which she told me she later grew out of.

Megan was the key. I decided. She had recognized me. Even after all these years. If she could recognize me. I looked up at where Megan was eating on the steps. She’d recognize the girl in the photo.


Reveal

“Megan.” I called, climbing the stairs up to her. She didn’t look at me, just kept eating. I stopped a couple of steps away from her. “Are you the girl in the picture?”

Megan chewed and swallowed. “Shouldn’t you know?”

“I haven’t seen her for years. I can’t remember her name.” I said. Megan remained silent. I sighed. “Maybe I should but I don’t. Is it you?”

“No.” My hopes deflated, and my knees gave way.

“Are you sure?” I couldn’t stand the desperation in my voice. I was losing control, but this time it wasn’t from an approaching mental seizure. My fear of my illness was growing. With every dashed hope, my despair increased. I didn’t want to die. I was too young. I- Megan spoke. I couldn’t hear her. I forced my emotions down, back under control. I’d need time to distance them again. I couldn’t afford to allow these emotions to overtake me.

“Sorry Megan, what did you say?” I looked at her. She, of course, did not look back.

“Why do you need to find her?” Megan repeated.

“It’s personal.” I said haltingly. “But it is a matter of life and death.” I shifted, almost kneeling before her. “If you can think of anything, anything that can help me find her.” I pleaded. Megan looked at the sky. I could feel my heart pounding with each passing second. Finally Megan spoke.

“What about her name?”

I waited for her to walk down the stairs as the final bell rang. My emotions were under control. She noticed me as she walked down the stairs.

“Hey,” Eva greeted me with a brilliant grin.

“Do you have a minute?” I asked, nodding to the door.

“Sure.” She said checking her watch. “I’ve got time.” Eva took the last steps quickly. “I know just the place too.” Eva led me to a secluded spot with shade, not far from where I’d posed for Lily. “What’s up?” Eva asked, putting her backpack on the ground and taking a seat on the beach. I hesitated, still standing, then took out my original photo, the one with both of us.

“I didn’t show you the whole picture.” I said, and handed her the picture. “This is-”

“Adam!” Eva cried joyfully seizing the photograph. “He was-”

“I’m sorry.” I interrupted her, holding my hands up. “’He’?” Eva glanced up at me.

“Yeah, Adam.” She pointed at the photo. “He’s right next to me, that’s why I wasn’t freaking out about the camera, Adam was distracting me.”

“It wasn’t ‘Adam’!” I glanced from the photo to her. “It was Adams, as in Anna Adams. That’s me!” That seemed to stun Eva. She looked from me to the picture, taking in my clearly feminine figure.

“You’re Adam?” Eva asked in disbelief. Had she really thought I was a boy?

“If you don’t believe me.” I took a seat beside her. She immediately averted her eyes. I moved into her line of sight. “Why don’t you find out.” Eva’s eyes flicked automatically, unconsciously, to my face. Our eyes locked. I was aware of my shifting memories, more than I think others would be. I noticed when she took memories, but did not know what they contained until she returned them. I felt her emotions, confusion, excitement, hope. Eva reached into a pocket and pulled out a pen and paper. Eva scribbled something down, returned all my memories and broke eye contact. Her hands clenched and unclenched. I watched her.

“So, you’re Adam then.” Eva finally said, trying to regain her composure. Looking at what she’d written down.

“It’s harder when it’s someone closer to you, isn’t it?” I asked abruptly. Eva glanced at me. She was quite skilled at looking at faces without making eye contact. “There’s always a kind of void.” I continued. “But it’s much more noticeable if the memories are related to you.” Eva leaned forward, her face I her hands.

“How could you know that?” She asked quietly. I glanced at her then away.

“It’s the same for me.” Eva looked at me in astonishment.

“You mean-?” She began.

“I’m not as powerful as you.” I told her. “That party where all that stuff got spilled on us.” Her eyes widened.

“That’s the reason?!” Eva gasped.

“I think so.” I said softly. I wasn’t looking at her anymore.

“I never thought,” Eva began in a constricted voice. “I never expected to find somebody who understands.” My mouth tightened.

“I’m here for a reason, Eva.” I said. “I need your help.” Eva looked at me.

“Anything.”  

Suspect’s Sides

Lily flipped through her sketchbook. She hoped she’d see that girl again. Lily was kicking herself for not getting that girl’s information. The girl had such interesting expressions, and her resemblance to Adam, Lily’s first crush, made her an even more fascinating subject to draw.

 

Dr. Price walked into the room.

“Dr. Price,” Anna greeted her. “I found the other person. The one with the same condition as me.” Dr. Price’s jaw dropped as the Memory Meddler stood up. A mask covering the bottom of her face, and brightly colored hair, that had to be a wig, cascading down her back.

“You can call me MM.” She introduced herself.

“MM and I were exposed to the same chemical at the same time.” Anna explained to the shocked doctor.

“I’ve never experienced a mental seizure.” MM said. “Do you really think I can help Anna?” Dr. Price looked from one girl to the other.

“Yeah,” Dr. Price smiled, hope blooming on her face. “Yes, I think you can.”

 

MM lay down, ready to have her brain scanned.

“Hey, M.” Eva glanced at Anna. “Thanks.” Anna said. Eva was glad the mask hid her red face. She couldn’t believe that Adam was a girl.

“No problem.” Eva replied. “No problem at all.”

 

Megan walked into her room. Jack, her ancient pet rabbit, lifted his head in greeting. Megan crossed the room and knelt in front of Jack. With effort, she looked into his eyes. Megan thought of Anna and Eva, Jack sat up. Megan saw them as children, running, drenched in gunk, a baby rabbit in Eva’s arms. Megan thought of Anna’s fear and desperation, and was assaulted with a memory of another rabbit, caged in a lab. The rabbit began acting out, returning to normal, acting out, and dying.

Megan broke eye contact. She knew it. Whatever had affected Jack and Eva at her sixth birthday was now killing Anna. Megan had been silently watching over Eva for years, becoming even more vigilant after Eva had become MM. Megan had learned to hack, trained in martial arts, all to ensure that she could support Eva. Megan had neglected her responsibility to Anna far too long. Now Anna needed Megan’s help, she needed information about what was causing her affliction, and Megan was going to get it for her.

Megan looked at a picture of her sixth birthday above her desk as her computer started up. She was avoiding looking at the camera, clutching Jack, the baby rabbit Eva had given her. My party, my responsibility, she thought, and set out in search of the information Anna needed.