He doesn't remember the time we drew henna on each other, or when we first kissed. Or that night on the boat in his room when I first told him I loved him.
'Are you okay?" Jacob asks, obviously sensing my funk.
I nod and bite down on my bottom lip, fighting the urge to cry.
"I will remember." He touches my shoulder, sending tingles down my back. "I want you to help me remember."
I touch his hand, fighting the urge to tell him how much I love him. "I'd like that," I say instead. A stray tear rolls down my cheek. Jacob wipes it with his fingers and I stop myself from kissing his hand.
But then I kiss it anyway.
Jacob reaches into his pocket and places the cluster crystal rock into my palm---just like old times. I clasp it for strength,
316
running my fingers over the smoothened edges--where the crystal has healed itself over.
"It's going to be okay," he whispers.
"I know."
'Are you sure?"
I nod, knowing that Jacob and I are destined to be together, that nothing--not time, place, or lack of memory--will ever keep us apart.
317
Stacey
It's been two months since I found Jacob, and nearly seven weeks since I've seen him last. His parents ended up flying out here right away. They couldn't have been more shocked or elated to see him. His mother especially was a huge gush of emotion. But Jacob didn't remember them.
They stayed at a bed & breakfast just down the road, trying to get reacquainted with the son they thought they'd
318
lost. But then they took him back home--to Colorado--only a few days later. Now that he's there, he's started recalling bits of his childhood--where he went to kindergarten, a tree fort he built with his dad, and the time he made vanilla brownies with his mom; how they ate all but the entire pan before his dad even got home, how they both ended up sick for hours after.
Before his parents took him back, he told us about his experience at the camp. He told the police about it, too--about the stealing and the brainwashing; how there are runaway minors living there; and how campers are kept captive. It was a little crazy here after the news came out about his survival, but the irony is that, even though Jacob ended up turning the camp in, he also feels grateful for it--for them. He knows that if it wasn't for the campers following the boat and pulling him out of the ocean after the fall, he wouldn't be here right now.
And so I'm grateful for the camp as well.
It nearly kills me not being with him now, but we've been talking on the phone, emailing incessantly, and writing each other letters. I didn't follow him out to Colorado because I wanted to stay and continue school. I wanted to give him time to remember. And now he has.
He called me the other day, telling me that he remembered our white candle spell--every inch of it, from the rose oil to the moment we kissed. He also remembered the first time he told me he loved me--one night in December when all the stars were out and we lay in the snow, making snow
319
angels and laughing at each other's stupid jokes . . his impersonation of Keegan, the hippy resident director of my dorm at Hillcrest.
He asked me if I'd consider coming out to Colorado for spring break. Consider it? I almost hung up on him right then, eager to call a travel agency to book a ticket. I'm just about finished packing. My flight leaves in three hours. Amber is going away, too. So is Janie. They're actually vacationing in the same place. A group of about twenty Beacon students, including PJ, Tim, and Janie's boyfriend Hayden, are headed to Cancun. I'm glad Tim doesn't hold anything against me after my stint of temporary insanity. He's actually been a really great friend.
So has Porsha. She's doing so much better now; her father couldn't be more pleased--50 pleased that he finagled Trevor a place to stay. Having taken in foster kids in the past, friends of the president, who live just down the road from the college, welcomed Trevor into their home and gave him his own room. Sadly, Trevor's real mother has no interest in being a part of his life, and his birth father couldn't be found. I hope I've taught Porsha enough so that she's better able to deal with nightmares if and when she gets them again. But it seems now that her nightmares have stopped, the possibility of having more is the furthest thing from her mind. Instead, she and Trevor have been enjoying just being normal again--going to school, going to the movies, practicing magic--practically joined at the hip.
It reminds me of how Jacob and I used to be . . . how I hope we'll be someday soon. 320
Last night I had a dream about him--that we were sitting up in one of those ski lifts, looking down over the slopes. It was daylight out, but you could still see the stars and the new quarter moon, like they were just beyond our touch. Jacob took off his glove and drew the rune for partnership over my lips with his finger. And then he kissed me and it tasted like apple cider mixed in champagne--all sweet and bubbling inside my mouth. It felt like I had fallen out from the bottom of my chair, that I was tumbling through the sky, past the mountains, toward the earth below. But, when I opened my eyes, we were still sitting in the lift and he was still kissing me. And it was nighttime now--as if we'd been kissing all day, as if our world had just stopped .while everybody else's kept moving forward.
I run my fingers over my lips, still feeling a tingle there, hopeful that my dream is a premonition for what's to come.
THE END
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Nightmare. Dark Dream.
Welcome*. to Stacey's World"I Know Your Secret..."
Stacey's having nightmares again. Not just any nightmares--these are too real to ignore. The last time she ignored them, a little girl died. This time they're about Drea, her best friend who's become the target of one seriously psycho stalker. Everyone thinks it's just a twisted game . . . until another girl at school is brutally murdered. Blue Is for Nightmares
0-7387-0391-5 * $8.95
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323
I'm Watching You
One year later, it's happening again. Seventeen-year-old Stacey Brown is having nightmares. What's worse is that she's not the only one having weird dreams. A new guy claims that he's been having nightly premonitions of Stac
ey's death for months. Will their dark dreams come true?
White Is for Magic
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Silver is for Secrets
"I'll make you say.. .*
Stacey's looking forward to relaxing on the beach with the gang and her new boyfriend, but the fun is cut short when her nightmares return. Sensing that Clara, a fifteen-year-old staying down the beach from them, is in deadly trouble, Stacey struggles to discover what she is hiding . . . before a tragedy far beyond her worst nightmares strikes. Silver Is for Secrets
0-7387-0631-0 * $8.95
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326
"I Know You're Alone . .
Nothing has been the same for eighteen year-old Stacey since her boyfriend Jacob died. For months she stayed at the beach cottage they shared before Jacob's tragic accident, refusing to give up hope that somehow, somewhere, Jacob was still alive. But Stacey knows she can't put off rejoining the world forever. Lucky to have a full scholarship to prestigious Beacon University, Stacey hopes she can finally put her past behind her.
Devastated when she starts having more disturbing dreams, Stacey once again turns to the folk magic she learned from her grandmother to find out what they mean. Her hopes that she can solve this mystery on her own are dashed when the college president calls her in for a private meeting--and reveals that his daughter Porsha is having nightmares too.
But while Stacey dreams of a ghost, Porsha is dreaming of a murder she's convinced hasn't happened yet. Porsha's fragmented nightmares foretell a tragic death, and may also shed light on a shocking revelation that could change Stacey's life forever. Together the two must decode their dark dreams to save a life--a risk that may cost them their own.
Also by Laurie Faria Stolarz--don't miss: Blue is for Nightmares * 0-7387-0391-5 White is for Magic * 0-7387-0443-1 Silver is for Secrets * 0-7387-0631-0
50895
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Laurie Faria Stolarz, Red is for Rememberance
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