Title: Leftover Girl
Author C.C. Bolick
Genre YA Mystery/Lite Sci-fi
Found on a dark highway with no memory...
At fifteen, Jes is no stranger to being the new kid. The people who adopted her have never stayed in any town long enough for Jes to make a true friend. This changes when they move to her mom's hometown. Now Jes can have a normal life - until she falls for her mom's nephew.
Feeling isolated because of this secret, Jes befriends a strange new student with secrets of his own. If only she could figure out why he seems so familiar. She definitely can't tell him or anyone else she dreams about a spaceship.
Or that she's starting to remember...
On Thursday, I slipped into the library after school and signed in for a computer. Since Bailey left early for a dentist appointment, I had time to get online, though I’d watched the clock in every class as I wrestled with the possibility.
Credence was different. Risking our new home was wrong. I knew I shouldn’t even think about typing my real name, but I hadn’t looked in more than a year. I sank into a padded chair and read the ‘Research Only’ sign posted above each of the six stations. Fortunately, no one sat at the other five.
I opened the browser and typed ‘Jessica Naples’ and ‘New York’ in the search box. More than ten thousand hits appeared, but I knew the address would be on the first page. As the link hesitated to load, I slid the mouse over the close button in case a quick exit became the only thing keeping us from having to move again. Using the keyboard, I scrolled down as the page finished loading.
A picture took form in the center of the screen. Strings of hair and smudges of dirt hid most of the girl’s features, but I knew the shape of her face by heart. Snapped less than a month before meeting the only man I remembered calling dad, the picture was a mesh of black and white creases. I touched the shiny surface, squinting at the bear in her arms. The fact I couldn’t remember the bear’s color didn’t seem quite so bad this time.
I scrolled back to the headline of the article, ‘Mother Pleads for Safe Return of Daughter.’ Paragraphs followed describing her tearful pleas, and I read them like all the times before. Liar, I charged at the unseen face, as if hurting her would erase the mark upon my soul. Each time the words appeared, I hoped to learn more about the life just beyond memory.
Something hit the floor and I turned from the screen. As before, every chair but mine offered freedom to surf. Sounds of laughter drifted through windows amid sunshine and stale gossip from students waiting for rides. After three days of rain, I imagined warmth on my face