“I will,” I say. I stand up and start toward my room, but at the door, I stop.
“Pop?” I ask, turning around to look at him. He lifts his head. “What was all the stuff in the box anyway?” I ask.
“Oh,” he says, wilting guiltily. “I moved it to the basement after Dr. Warren called and asked about it. I lied to her, said it was nothing. But those were the items you came to us with when you were a child. We didn’t feel right about throwing them out. We planned to give them back to you one day. It’s yours.”
“I’ll bring the box up,” Gram says, an apology clear in her expression.
“Thanks,” I say, giving them both a warm smile. Letting them know I love them. I still have a lot of questions and emotions to get through, but at the core, we’re family.
•••
The box is on my bed, but I’m afraid to open it now that I know its meaning. I have no recollection of that time, but the idea of a little girl, brought here and given away... I must have been scared. I run my hand over the top of the box, wishing I could be there for her—even though she’s me.
I examine the date on the box again, a few months off from my own birthday.
That means I’m already eighteen. It’s strange to imagine your birthday isn’t really your birthday. Maybe I’ll celebrate twice next year. The idea makes me smile but is immediately replaced with sadness. I wonder if I ever felt it growing up. On the day of my actual birth, was there a part of me that knew?
I take off the lid and set it aside. The stuffed dog is on top, and I examine it again. I don’t feel any pull, any significance. It’s dirty—the kind of dirt that means it was well-loved. I put it next to the box and dig through some clothes, a dress that’s yellowed over time. At the very bottom of the box, I feel an object. I hold the fabric to the side and pull out a charm attached to a silver bracelet—a piece of child’s jewelry. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s sweet.
I examine the charm, running my finger over it. It’s a heart with aCcarved onto it. There’s a twist in my stomach, and my eyes begin to tear up. Could that have been the first letter of my old name? I turn the charm over, and my breath catches when I see it’s engraved in tiny letters:
XOXO
—Mommy
“I had a mother,” I whisper, and the words, once out of my mouth, are a sudden wrecking ball to my heart. “I had a mother,” I repeat a little louder.
She must have loved me once, but something happened to her. Was she alive still? Did she give me away, or did they take me? Does she still wonder where I am?
You’re not the only replacement,Marie had told Nicole. Marie and Dr. McKee have destroyed lives. Changed them. Rewritten them.
I’m the replacement for a girl who died, and in that moment, I died too—whoever C was. My family was gone. Now I have this new life, still battling my past. And it hurts to feel like an imposter.
I take the stuffed dog, and I curl up on my bed and cry. And after a while, my thoughts turn to Wes, and how he said the past has the power to destroy us. I think he could be right, but only if we give it power. Only if we let it.
So I sit up, clearing the tears from my cheeks. I neatly fold the dress and place it back in the box, breaking down a few times. I lay my stuffed dog on top. I stand and bring the tiny bracelet—too small to wear—and set it on my dresser. I gaze at it an extra second, wishing I knew my mother. I put the lid on the box and place it on the floor of my closet.
I don’t want any more lies. I don’t want to pretend for another second about anything. Being honest with my grandparents, and having them be honest in return, has lightened my soul. Keeping secrets is a heavy burden, and I’m ready to let it all go.
It’s time I find Wes and tell him about our past. No matter what, he needs to know. I can’t be the one keeping it from him. And maybe he’ll say that he loves me again. That he always knew that we’d find our way back together. It’s a naïve viewpoint, I know. But I can’t help imagining the best-case scenario.
I can’t help but allow in just a little bit of hope.
PART III
LOVE HIM MADLY
CHAPTER ONE
I TELL MY GRANDPARENTS THATI’m going to school to find Wes. They seem a bit stunned by the comment but don’t argue. Just like they promised, they stand by my decision. Pop tells me to call if I need him.
I text Nathan before I pull out of the driveway, and he asks if he should come with me, but this is something I have to do on my own. He says he’ll be home when I get back.
It’s almost last hour, and I wonder if Wes will be in the library, catching up on his assignments. I consider texting him to ask where he is, but I don’t have the nerve. This way, if he’s not in the library, I’ll have time to rethink and regroup. It’s not brave, but I’m driving to school on a whim. Racing ahead without too much thought to slow me down. I know I’ll find Wes eventually; I won’t give up until I do. But it’s also good to have some options.
The bell for seventh hour rings as I stand in the office, signing the student book. When the attendance clerk asks where I’m heading, I tell her the library, and she writes out the pass.
I glance at Dr. Wyatt’s office door, thankful that it’s closed. I wonder if she’s out in the classrooms or talking with a student. Interrogating them, like she did with Wes. I’m relieved that she doesn’t seem to be part of The Program, but I still don’t trust her. And I still don’t want anything to do with her brand of sanctimonious bullying.
