Chapter 1: Chapter 1 – A Return to Normal

Has it really been a year? Genna asked herself as she stood in front of her bedroom window overlooking a lush green yard that was the envy of practically everyone she met and invited over. Not that she invited a whole lot of people over these days. Sunlight streamed through the window, bathing her in a luminescence filtered by a UV blocking film applied to the interior of the glass. The window extended to almost the full height of the ceiling and spanned the entire eastern wall of the space, giving Genna a view to envy as she performed her morning rituals.

Could she really call them rituals? She wondered that to herself often; so much had changed in the last year, so much that could never be the same again. Though it had gotten arguably better, she couldn’t help but recall small details here and there. The screeching of tires, the spider webbing of safety glass, the desperate scream of…her. Genna shuddered and tried to put it out of her mind for the umpteenth time this week. No, today was the day, she had to be ready. 

“I can do this,” She said to herself and then wondered who she was trying to convince. She turned from the window, surveying her nearly sterile bedroom in the silver nightgown she’d worn to bed the previous night. Short sleeved, cinched at the waist, and about knee-length, she hadn’t quite been comfortable in it. Though it was silky and soft, wearing it made her feel exposed; a feeling that she couldn’t quite get over. Still, her mother insisted that this was one of her favorite articles of clothing from before; an item from a fragmented life that Genna had trouble recalling. 

Just fall into a routine, was what they had told her. Do what you did before, the memories will come back to you.

Would they? It had been a year of uncomfortable nightgowns, home videos, dinner rituals, activities meant to ‘jog’ her memory. Granted, her mind wasn’t completely blank; there were fragments she could recall. Her father, her mother, her first day of school, most of the last year she had attended Jacemount Academy, and those memories had come back courtesy of the injections administered by her father.

Just a quick prick, we’ll see if we can jog your memory.

An experimental drug tested in Alzheimer’s and amnesia patients, meant to bring back core memories. It had worked with Genna: over the last eight months she’d received two injections. Her father promised that four months from now, the third and final would be hers. That final injection - would it restore all of her memories? Or would just give her more fragments? She sighed and stepped toward her closet, feet comforted by clean carpet as she finished the brief journey and slid the glass doors aside. A simple push was all it took; as she pushed the handle, the opaque pink doors changed to a transparent filter, briefly revealing the contents of the walk-in closet just as they folded and pressed against the frame on their respective sides of the entrance. She stepped into the space and surveyed her clothing choices. Dresses, skirts, tops, slacks. Dozens of options accompanied by a rack of shoes inset to the rear wall and offering every variety of footwear one could want. Genna pursed her lips and looked to the clothes as she had a million and one times since her recovery began and felt a tinge of distaste for the selections in front of her. Styles, colors, cuts, none of it really seemed to suit her. Apparently her miraculous recovery came with an inherent dislike for the entirety of her wardrobe. 

After several moments of pondering the options, or lack thereof, she selected a cream top with a low cut and flowing sleeves along with a black skirt. Getting dressed took just a few moments of her time and she found herself standing in front of the mirror, surveying her selection. It looked okay; definitely not what she’d pick for herself if she’d had better options. The scoop neck top covered enough but it cinched heavily at the waistline just like the nightgown, making more of a show of her chest than she was comfortable with. She sighed, wondering if her apparent fondness for showing off her chest would return with the rest of her memories. Part of her hoped not, and part of her hoped that it would, as she had come to understand that replacing an entire wardrobe was a hefty proposition. 

She took a look at her makeup vanity, trying to decide if it was worth the the time. Stepping over to the black-lacquered table she ran the tips of her fingers across the smooth surface while studying her reflection in the mirror. Thousands of dollars in reconstructive surgery had brough her face back, but she couldn’t decide if it was exactly right. Dark brown hair flowed from her scalp and spread across her shoulders, chemically straightened to eliminate any lingering frizz; a light complexion with a few freckles painted across her cheeks, light blue eyes, the whole ensemble. Her face was a portrait of plastic perfection, though in some ways, a memorial to the natural canvas that once was. Still, she was here, and she wasn’t disfigured, so did it really make a difference if it wasn’t the original? She tried to decide that as she turned from the vanity and faced the door, giving her arms a stretch and stepping toward the door. She’d had practice applying her makeup, and while her mother assured her that the skill would come back to her, she didn’t have the patience to try resurrecting long-dead muscle memory today. A return to normal was needed, but perhaps ‘normal’ wouldn’t come until all of her own thoughts were floating around in her own head. 

A knock sounded at her bedroom door and she smiled slightly as she saw her father standing there. He couldn’t see her of course; the door would be opaque on his side; the transparency function of the doors was something that he liked to brag about, and sometimes Genna wondered how much those doors actually cost. Father never liked to delve into the price of things. 

“Come in!” She called cheerily. The door slid aside and he stepped through. Her father was a man north of forty with brown hair, tightly cut, clean shaven, and presenting nicely in a blue button-up shirt paired with khakis. A casual day at the office perhaps. “Hi Dad.”

“Hey sweetie,” He smiled warmly as he crossed the threshold. “No makeup today?”

“Still not feeling it,” She shrugged. 

“Well, it’ll all come back in time,” He assured her. Genna gave him a look of frustration and gave an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders, slapping her palms against her thighs.

“Well maybe if you gave me that last injection,” She suggested, raising an eyebrow as she folded her arms and shifted all of her weight to her left leg. Her knee pointed outward as her look of annoyance twisted into a partial grin. Her father sighed and shook his head. 

“You know that’s not how it works, sweetie,” He said for the umpteenth time. “the mind is funny, it can’t take all that much at once. But the injections have been helping?”

“You know they have,” Genna sighed. “Memories here and there. But I want more. Dad, I need more-”

“I’m aware, sweetie,” He said evenly with very a small note of apology in his voice. “But your body…you…went through severe trauma. You’re not ready for all of that, and you know it. Now that you’re going back to school you can try to settle into a familiar routine and maybe, just maybe it’ll jog a few of your memories.”

“Yea, maybe.”

“Definitely,” Father smiled and laid a hand on her upper arm to draw her into a half-hug. “You might not think you’re making progress, but your mother and I can see it. Our little girl is coming back, slowly but surely. She never left though, she was just a little broken.”

“A lot broken,” Genna corrected him, leaning into the hug and then pulling back. “I saw the hospital pics you know.”

“And yet look how far you’ve come,” Father smiled. “All ready for your first day of school. Are you excited?”

“Oh yeah, back to see all my friends!” Genna laughed. “If I can remember who they are.”

“Well you did put pictures on your phone,” He said, suggestion on his tone. Genna laughed.

“We’ll see if it helps. Besides, according to Facebook I only have a few left anyway.”

Father exited the room, pulling the tempered glass door shut behind him; the soundproofing muted his footsteps from Genna as he rounded the landing and walked down the concrete steps leading to the family room. She paused and turned toward the vanity mirror, closely surveying the unfamiliar reflection that it threw back at her. black hair, slender facial features, thin shoulders, everything that made her, her, but still, something seemed a little off. The perfect facial features, corrected asymmetry, light blue eyes. What wasn’t there to like? They’d told her that she would get used to it, that the body dysmorphia was temporary, that she would come to feel more at home in her skin as time went on. For now, her reflection and her would have to come to an understanding. 

She turned from the vanity and stepped toward a full length mirror set into the closet door, examining her reflection. The accident had taken so much from her and they’d tried to give it all back. She placed her hands on her hips, struck a pose and tried to unearth some familiarity. Finally, she shook her head, collected her phone from the bedside table and then picked up her black and white backpack from beside the bedroom door. Slinging it over her shoulder, she gripped the vertical door handle, pulling back on it until the glass door slid easily aside. The door track hissed almost inaudibly as the panel disappeared into the wall, clicking into place as she stepped through, onto the landing. The house had been build in a brutalist design inside and out; some might call it cold and unwelcoming, but Genna had learned to love it. The landing was a brief walkway about four feet in width that ended in a tubed railing, paneled with frosted glass that rose to just above Genna’s waist. After a few short steps she looked over the rail, down into the family room; a wide open space lined with a sectional L-shaped couch , punctuated on the left side by a matching recliner, all of which faced a seventy-inch OLED television affixed to a far wall. Genna turned and walked quickly down the handing, gliding the fingertips of her right hand gingerly across the railing until she reached the end, then traded her touch for a strong grip around the endpiece as she rounded the corner onto the concrete steps. Her grip guided her descent until finally she reached the end and crossed the family room, taking a sharp left to walk down the brief hallway into the dining room. 

Much like the rest of the house, the dining room was built from industrial gray concrete walls but accented heavily with floor and ceiling LED lights that gave them a soft glow. The same consideration had been given to the large kitchen counter that ran the length of the room, a flaked black marble countertop that was positively radiant beneath five spotlights set into the ceiling. Her mother had argued for white countertops; she thought it would make the space look bigger. Father said that the space was big enough.

“Good morning, dear,” Mother said from her seat at the kitchen table. Genna smiled as Celia, their hired help set a prepared plate at Genna’s usual spot. She pulled her chair out and sat, immediately realizing that her appetite hadn’t left her. Eggs, sunny side up, and crispy bacon stared at her from the ceramic plate, and she began by breaking the egg with her fork, then dripped a piece of toast, bringing it to her mouth with a crunch.

“Morning mom,” She said, doing her best to swallow before she spoke. Mother was dressed fairly casual today, at least for her. A silk sleeveless blouse and a pearly necklace; brown hair loose about her shoulders. 

“How are you feeling?” Mother asked. Genna took another bite of toast, which she washed down with a gulp of orange juice; she could see mother cringe at the perceived informality. Sip, like a lady. Behind mother, Celia walked past the rectangular picture window overlooking the elaborate infinity pool that gazed into a heavily manicured backyard, at least twenty feet below. At this time of the morning, sunlight would be blinding them both, were the glass not given the same UV coating as the rest of the house. Instead of a brilliant sunrise, they had a muted gray that matched the rest of the room - it was almost surreal. Celia stepped behind the kitchen island and began to silently chop vegetables with a pear knife. 

“Nervous,” Genna admitted. “It’s been a year, will they even remember me?”

“Of course they’ll remember you, Genna,” Mother assured her, though her tone implied condescension at what she must have perceived to be a silly question. 

“I feel like I’ll be so behind,” Genna frowned. “It’s been a whole year. They’ve all gone to prom, taken tests, gone on field trips, and what have I done? Laid around in a hospital bed-”

“You’ve had the best private tutors,” Mother reminded her. “You’re more than ready to go back to school. It’s your senior year, enjoy it! You only get one senior year!”

“And only one junior year,” Genna issued a reminder of her own; mother grimaced. “Besides it’s not just about the things I missed, it’s about…it’s that she won’t be there. It’s where we spent the most time. I’m going to expect to see her around every corner. We won’t gossip at lunch, we won’t…ugh. I just…I hate remembering her.”

“Sweetie,” Mother said, reaching across the table and laying a hand on Genna’s. The fork dropped to the ceramic plate. “She’s not someone you can just forget. In a way she’s always going to be with you. You carry a piece of her, you know.”

“So they say,” Genna sighed. “I still feel like it’s my fault.”

“You were cleared of all charges.”

“Yeah,” Genna nodded, gritting her teeth. “I guess I was.”

Genna’s eyes wandered to the kitchen area where Cecilia still stood behind the counter, pear knife in hand. The middle-aged woman relinquished her concentration on the vegetables in front of her to shoot a look to Genna, and while the look was perfectly neutral, Genna couldn’t help but feel they conveyed a hint of malice. 

“Is she okay?” Genna gestured to Celia who quickly returned her attention to the task at hand. Mother gave a quick glance and shrugged. “She looks angry.”

“All the Mexicans look angry,” Mother shrugged. “Just being herself.”

“Right,” Genna nodded, suddenly feeling uneasy. She finished her plate, and immediately rose from the table, taking her cleaned plate to the sink. She set it down carefully on the left side, and became unnerved when she saw Celia giving her another disdainful look. 

“Genna, dear, let the woman do her job,” Mother said with a tone of exasperation. 

“Sorry, I forgot,” Genna chuckled a little, making a swift exit from behind the counter and going toward her backpack, now sitting on the floor beside the hall between there and the family room. 

“You’re sure you can make it there on your own?” Mother called out after her.

“I think I remember that much,” Genna laughed lightly. “Love you, mom.”

***

 

The steps of Jacemount Academy were a stark contrast from the brutalist interior of the Alvord family home, and it was a fact that did not escape Genna’s notice as she stepped off the yellow bus and onto the sidewalk that preceded the wide concrete treads. They stretched a full forty feet in front of the red brick building, flanked on either side by a low concrete wall that curved outward like a wave, meeting the sidewalk and forming a fractional part of the dramatic entrance to Jacemount. The center was lined with a pair of twin black tubed railings that ran from the top to the bottom, leading all the way to the bank of steel-glass doors, the center two etched with the gold and black Jacemount Academy logo. 

A swathe of students buzzed around the steps, most walking upward, toward the doors, though the other side of the steps boasted an opposite flow that was just as considerable. The students were dressed similarly to Genna, all in casual wear that had apparently become the hallmark of Jacemount Academy. A year or more ago, when Genna had attended, the students had been clad in their school uniforms; slacks for the boys, knee-length gray skirts for the girls. The uniforms had been an integral part of the school since its inception in the late nineteen-forties, but now at the cusp of the twenty-thirties, a well-executed PTA meeting and subsequent vote had seen the retirement of the much loved, and vehemently hated garment that was decidedly a relic of yesteryear. Though it was decidedly a culture shock after her year-long hiatus, Genna immediately decided she liked the change; it was a much-needed splash of color on an institution that had lacked personality for as long as she’d been a part of it. She approached the same foreboding concrete arch, engraved with the same outdated coat of arms, but the students around her were alive, they were vibrant, they were present, which was more than she could say for herself right now. 

She moved through the crowd of students, her left and right hands both encircled in a death grip around the straps of her backpack. It was just school; there was no reason to be afraid, but at the same time it was so much more than school. This was one of the last places she’d spent time with Megan, before that stupid party. Before they’d made that awful decision, before she’d…

The thoughts lingered with her as she as she passed under the arch and crossed the threshold from the safety of the blue sky to the crowded entryway, swarming once again with students walking up, down, and around the wide entry stairs leading to the mezzanine and the second floor above. Genna nervously traversed the black-checkered floor. past the stairs and walked into the back hallway where lockers lined each side, all the way back to the low hanging ceiling where the school’s coat of arms was once again displayed proudly above the archway, this time in a deep mahogany rather than carved stone. Bits and pieces of pointless conversation floated past her ears as she made her way toward her locker. It had all been arranged prior to this first day; a visit to the guidance counselor’s office had furnished her with a full schedule, a locker number, and a combination. She’d seen the sympathy in their eyes as they’d set the schedule; a full class load but no one expected her to keep up. She wanted desperately to prove them wrong but she wasn’t even sure of herself; she could be just as incapable as they believed. 

Her locker was just ahead; the loud roar of the student’s voices morphed into a low hum as she reached for the lock. It was a simple eight digit key pad, the combination just four digits. She dialed the numbers: 8645, and frowned when the LED light flashed red. She tried again, rewarded with yet again another red light. Had they given her the wrong combination? She tried a few more times before finally stopping and looking around in confusion. Just as she was about to try again, she felt a tug at her arm; a petite girl with light red hair stood beside her, she was about the same age as Genna, and she wore a curious smile on her face. Genna frowned as the girl looked at her with decided familiarity. 

“This is the wrong one,” She said helpfully. “Your locker should be down there.”

Genna stared some more; the girl cocked her head.

“You remember me, don’t you?” The girl asked. Genna searched her already-fragmented array of memories in hopes of finding something, but she ultimately came up blank. The girl’s identity remained a mystery and the seconds ticked by, each one an hour long as awkward silence manifested in the air between them. Finally, the girl spoke again. “Deidre? Deidre Manning? Your best friend?”

“Right, yeah, yes, of course I knew that,” Genna shook her head almost violently as she sucked in air through gritted teeth. How stupid was that? A fragment of memory came back. Deidre Manning. Seventeen years old, her best friend since…elementary school? That one should have been easy; She had plenty of flashbacks of her, all of them from a distance, seemingly, prismatic and fragmented, like seeing a memory through a piece of glass, or maybe grainy, like watching an old home video. She shook her head and smiled. “Sorry, brain fog.”

“You’ve got a lot of that going on I hear,” Deidra smiled softly. “but not to worry, I found you!”

“I didn’t know I was lost,” Genna frowned, trying to figure out if she was joking. “um…so where’s my locker?”

“Back here, where it’s always been,” Deidre pointed obscurely down the hallway, past the droves of students. They made their way down a narrow path down the middle, coming to a section of the hall where a few of the lockers were set back into an alcove lit by a row of ceiling-mounted spots. 

“Cozy,” Genna said as Deidre pointed to her locker. She punched in the code: 8645 and the locking mechanism clicked in tandem with the LED light flashing solid green. Genna opened the empty locker and began to unload her books into it as Deidre looked on. 

“So…” Deidre said, doing her best to break the ice. “It’s been a whole year. Haven’t seen you, like, at all.”

“Sorry about that,” Genna said apologetically. “I was…preoccupied I guess.”

You are reading story Genna at novel35.com

“Yeah, all that medical stuff,” Deidre agreed. “Can’t believe your parents wouldn’t let anyone see you. Crazy.”

“Yeah, Crazy,” Gena agreed. She closed the locker and began to crane her neck, looking around the hall. “So um…I’m a little lost…”

“And I’m going to say this whole thing is a little weird,” Deidre took her by the arm and began to guide her through the shifting ocean of students, taking a quick left and walking up a set of stairs until they reached a quiet landing. They stood beneath the Jacemount Academy logo printed on a black and gold banner that hung from the ceiling high above against a wood-paneled wall. “Your parents really sent you here without anyone to help you even though you couldn’t find your own locker?”

“That’s what you’re upset about?” Genna raised an eyebrow. “We did a walkthrough a few days ago, I pretty much know where everything is.”

“Except for your locker, and apparently anything else in the school. Jeez, Genna, you’re a mess!”

“Yeah, I guess my head is somewhere else,” She said apologetically. “I’m having trouble with some things. I thought I had it but…I don’t know. I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Up the stairs and to the left,” Deidre gestured. “I’ll come with you.”

“Actually, you go ahead,” Genna suggested. 

“Suit yourself,” Deidre shrugged as she trotted up the stairs, leaving Genna to make her own way to the top and enter the bathroom which stood behind a wooden door with a frosted black pane.

The bathroom wasn’t remarkable, just eight stalls along the rear wall and a set of porcelain sinks set against the wall, all overlooked by a large casement window, frosted halfway up, but revealing the blue sky overhead for the upper portion. She crossed the line of sinks until she came to the center-most one, standing just outside the gleaming ray of sunlight that streamed through the uppermost portion of the casement window. She looked at her reflection in the glass and saw much the same thing that she had seen that morning at home. Dark brown hair, expertly styled, chemically straightened, framing a round face with lush pink lips and pale blue eyes. There was nothing wrong with her reflection in the slightest but that feeling of unease crept over her as she watched the stranger staring back at her. It seemed uninterested, and it didn’t seem like her.

It’ll pass, they’d said. You’ll get used to it. It was the face she remembered from even before the accident, so why did it seem so foreign? She shuddered and closed her eyes, leaning forward and turning the cold water knob; it creaked slightly, just before the spout chortled and spat a steady stream of water into the porcelain bowl. She watched it fill and then receded as it gave way to the drain. A splash of water in her face, she rubbed her skin with open palms and then stood up again. She froze. For a split second, she could swear she saw something, a form behind her, but it vanished as quickly as she was able to blink.

“What was that?” She muttered under her breath as she watched the mirror. Her reflection stood there still, matching her every move and staring back at her, as expected. So, what had she seen? Nothing, she’d seen nothing; just her mind playing tricks on her. She pushed the feeling of unease deep down within her and twisted the knob again. The water ceased and she turned toward the door, strolling across the black and white tile floor and pulling open the bathroom door. 

“Took you long enough,” Deidre said, crossing her arms and making a show of tapping her foot.

“You waited for me,” Genna observed flatly. She was almost dissapointed; it was nice to have someone to guide her, but at the same time she just wanted to be alone, to be allowed to process all of this in her own way and time. 

“Duh,” Deidre rolled her eyes. “We can’t have you wandering off and getting lost in some closet, can we?”

“Not a lot of places to go in a closet,” Genna said sarcastically as she fell in step beside Deidre. 

“All that and you still haven’t developed a sense of humor,” Deidre rolled her eyes again as they turned a corner and stood outside yet another doorway. Students milled past them, entering the room, jostling the two of them as they watched eachother, like two friends meeting after decades of absence. “I missed you, Gen.”

“I missed you too,” Genna smiled as she tried to recall a scrap of memory apart from Deidre’s name and hair color. Of course she’d gone over this; countless pictures, backstories, home videos, social media accounts, the works. She’d poured over Instagram accounts and gleaned as much information as possible from her parents, and it was now at the point that she couldn’t tell whether the memories she did possess were her own, or whether they were simply the result of fastidious learning. Suddenly, a fragment of memory swept through her conscious mind; a brief recollection of a darkened gymnasium, carefully positioned spotlights illuminating the outer edges of the space, light reflecting and refracting against hanging decorations and four others bathing a hired student band playing a poor rendition of some popular song on expensive guitars and poorly-placed drum set. She remembered pushing through an ocean of black tuxes and silky gowns, moving ever forward, elbowing my way through looking for -… Looking for what? 

“Here we are,” Deidre tugged on Genna’s blouse, bringing her back into the moment as she pulled her into a classroom. It was packed, front to back with students, male and female, each one focused on the  instructor who paced back and forth in front of the assembly with a thick book held in his left hand. This was someone she remembered: Mr. Blumerich. Amos Blumerich, actually. A red-headed man with a well trimmed beard; not slim, but not large either. He wore a white button down shirt, open at the collar, accompanied by a pair of tan khaki slacks. For teachers at Jacemount it was a bit on the casual side but somehow the man’s personality always made up for his professional shortcomings. It didn’t hurt that he was a font of literary knowledge either. 

“…but a literary concept that always catches people off guard, always, is the idea that the main character is not the hero of the story,” Mr. Blumerich’s voice floated to the back of the classroom as Genna and Deidra found their seats, Genna sliding into a wooden chair next to a girl named Kendra. “Was Odysseus the hero, or was he not? On a heroe’s journey, absolutely, but sometimes calling a spade a spade is about far more than just appearances, yes, Ms. Johnson?”

“But he’s just trying to get back to his kid, right? What’s so bad about that?” The blonde girl in the front row asked, prompting Mr. Blumerich’s eyes to light as he turned on his heel and continued his pace to the other end of the whiteboard.

“And that’s the rub,” he said, raising his voice a bit. “That’s the ‘moral conundrum’, the justification of all our sins; this belief that we are doing the right thing. Odysseus’s motivations were innocent on the surface, but how many of his men made it back to Ithaca with him? How many would have been saved if he’d just told them that Aeolus had given him the wind?”

“So he’s the bad guy?” Another student asked, confused. Mr. Blumerich lifted his index finger into the air, signaling a point. 

“There isn’t a single person alive that doesn’t do things for selfish reasons,” He informed the room. “You, me, your mother, that nice little lady down the street. They all have ulterior motives and reasons that seem justified to them. And, in some cases, that seem justified to those around them.”

Genna zoned out a bit in the midst of the lecture, her gaze and attention drifting to the ceiling-high bank of windows that framed the school’s large interior courtyard. On a sunny day it would have looked highly appealing with its sprawling swatches of green turf interlaced with white concrete walkways. Today however, was more overcast, and Genna could see darkened splotches across the concrete; a hint of rain, whether past or still to come. 

The lecture passed; Mr. Blumerich never called on her, and while she normally would have found that odd, it made sense that at least for now, teachers would leave her alone, not daring to embarrass her for her inattentiveness in front of the class. Given the situation, perhaps a little inattentiveness was to be expected. The lecture came to an end, and an electronic tone from the overhead speaker signaled the end of the class. The students formed and orderly line that spilled out into the hallway, the group splitting as they went their separate ways. 

“Kendra!” Deidre called out as they emerged into the hallway. The girl turned and gave a half-hearted smile. She wasn’t exactly slender, but she was pretty; her blonde hair was highlighted with a streak of blue down the left side. There was something odd about her to Genna’s eyes, something about the face. Then she spoke, and it hit her like a ton of bricks. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Kendra asked in a voice that seemed a little too deep for the face that she presented. Genna raised an eyebrow and then composed herself. The expression, no matter how brief and microscopic didn’t escape Kendra’s attention; she cringed a little and Genna immediately felt a pang of guilt even as the interaction quickly returned to normal. 

“The notes from last week?” Deidre tapped her foot in mock impatience.

“Oh! Yeah,” Kendra nodded. “I completely forgot about that. I can e-mail them to you? Oh, better yet, I think they’re in my Dropbox; I can share the folder.”

“Yeah, great, you coming over this weekend?” Deidre crossed her arms. “I’ve gotta show you how to do your eyes.”

“Hey, I know how to do my eyes,” Kendra said defensively. “Look at them, they’re gorgeous.”

“Modern art for sure,” Deidre agreed. “Saturday?”

“Yeah sure, I’m not doing anything else,” Kendra smiled and then shot a look of uncertainty in Genna’s direction just before turning and trotting off down the hallway. As Genna watched her go, she noticed someone familiar standing down the hall, a head of platinum blonde hair and soft features on a tiny frame glaring at her with an expression of absolute malice.

“That’s…Susanna,” Genna said, glancing in the direction of the girl. Deidre nodded.

“Megan’s best friend,” Deidre confirmed. “Probably best to avoid her.”

“She looks like she hates me,” Genna said, looking to Deidre, then looking back down the hall at Susannah who hadn’t broken her gaze. “I mean, of course she does.”

Deidre didn’t respond; she gave an imperceptible nod instead. No one wanted to talk about the accident, or how it was probably Genna’s fault. They especially didn’t want to talk about how her father’s reputation, money, and influence had allowed her to walk away from the whole thing. Well, walk probably wasn’t the best way to put it, was it? More like a shuffle, down the side of the road, covered in her own blood until she’d been able to find help. Help that she didn’t deserve. Before she could think about it too much, the PA tone sounded again.

“Genna Alvord, please report to the guidance counselor’s office.”

 

***

 

Despite appearances, Jacemount was a fairly old institution. Built in the mid-twentieth century, it was one of the older private schools in Southeast Michigan and still one of the top choices when it came to co-ed academies. The newer portion of the school was modern and refined. Sleek hallways, freshly painted lockers, high end flat screen monitors inset to the walls and in every classroom. Much of the old section had been demolished to make way for a more modern, open concept layout that was conducive to learning. The administration wing of Jacemount, however, as a remnant of days past, and Genna had been reminded of that every time she’d gone to Mr. Sackangrast’s office. That was something she remembered. That smell of freshly buffed and mopped linoleum filled her nostrils as she stepped into a wide hallway capped overhead with a broad arch comprised of red bricks that ultimately ended in a row of steel-glass doors painted over and over throughout the decades. The black and white checkered linoleum floor routinely collected a layer of dust that hovered in the air, visible beneath bright halogen bulbs hanging from the bricks. Genna’s footsteps echoed down the hall, her Mary-Janes announcing her presence to no one as she passed defunct lockers that still boasted their original black combination locks. 

The walk to the admin office was short; it culminated in a simple wooden door with a plate glass window, the word ‘Administration’ etched in black and gold letters. After turning an ancient brass knob, Genna emerged into a brief hallway lined with four doors, the third leading to the guidance office. Just before it was a waiting room with four chairs beneath a row of windows that normally would have peered into the next office had it not been covered by a row of three slatted blinds. To Genna’s right was a wooden reception desk, where the receptionist, Wendy, lay facedown on a stack of books, snoring quietly. Genna shrugged and walked past her, knocking twice on Mr. Sackangrast’s door before pushing it open and stepping through.

Mr. Sackangrast glanced up at her and gave a quick nod as he tapped a button on the tablet he was studying, darkening the screen.

“Ms. Alvord,” He said, offering a quick smile as Genna took a seat and folded her hands across her lap. “Welcome back to Jacemount, you’ve been getting along okay?”

“I think so,” Genna nodded. “No one’s really talked to me, and I’ve only been to one class so far.”

“Well to be honest, no one expected you to come back as quickly as you did,” He admitted. “The other students are probably walking on eggshells a bit.”

“Let’s be honest, Mr. Sackangrast,” Genna said, leveling her gaze at him. “They’re avoiding me because it was my fault.”

“Now Genna, let’s not point fingers-”

“Just telling the truth,” Genna shrugged. Mr. Sackangrast’s expression went grim for a moment and then, as he composed himself, he managed to transition to the next part of his clearly planned conversation.

“Now that you are back,” He said. “I think it would be helpful for you to get back into some of your old extracurriculars. Before the…the…”

“Accident, that was my fault,” Genna filled in the conversational gap for him, prompting him to twitch as he was confronted with a subject that he was clearly trying to avoid while indulging. 

“You were on the track team, and you played volleyball in season. Those are two things that you should be looking into. I’ve spoken with coach Baur, he’s more than willing to make room for you.”

“I don’t know,” Genna said with uncertainty. “would I even be any good at track?”

“You were an all star runner before,” Mr. Sackangrast pointed out. “I hear your pole vaults were the stuff of legends. I really think getting back to your normal routine will be good for you and it might help with your memory loss.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Genna sighed in reluctant agreement. “I’ll think about it.”

“Great!” Mr. Sackangrast smiled. “As for everything else, you’re adjusting okay?”

“I’ve been here all of three hours, so I’ll have to let you know.” 

The rest of the conversation was absurdly brief and mundane with Mr. Sackangrast assuring her that he and the rest of the staff supported her and would stand by her if any of the student body should give her a hard time. Empty, forced words as Genna perceived them. Returning to this school was in and of itself a bad idea, but Genna had wanted a return to normal, and walking through the hallowed halls of Jacemount High seemed to be the best way to accomplish that, even if she felt everyone there hated her. Well, not everyone. Deidre seemed to be okay with her, and Kendra to some extent. Who knew, maybe this would turn out to be okay after all. 

Leaving the guidance office, she wandered the halls, heading toward the gymnasium. Second period had already started and she saw no reason to walk in on Algebra II a half hour into the class. After all, what were they going to do? Give her detention? She entered the doors of the gymnasium and stood beneath the high ceiling lined with steel rafters and caged LED lights. The floor was black with gold court lines, the Jacemount High logo emblazoned in the center. Plexi-glass backboards and hoops were prominent on either end of the space, and bleachers on both sides. She walked the floor, her eyes traveling from the padded walls, to the bleachers, to the banners hanging against the walls. All of this should seem familiar to her, and it did; she had after all spent a lot of time here, but it just wasn’t stirring up the emotions she thought it would. Genna Alvord had been a track star; the trophies she’d accumulated at home said as much. Her name had been in the paper countless times; she’d come across that in her research. Putting together a picture of who Genna had been? Well, that was pretty easy, wasn’t it? Putting her together now though…that was proving to be more of a challenge than she expected. If she didn’t like track, then what did she like? As she contemplated that question she contemplated an even bigger one: what if she couldn’t be the person that everyone expected her to be? Mr. Sackangrast expected her to be the track star she’d been before, apparently. Deidre expected her to immediately slip back into being her best friend even though her knowledge of the girl was textbook at best. Genna sighed and turned, walking toward the doors and pushing into the hallway where a flat panel flashed a list of upcoming events. She stood in front of it as it cycled through a range of images, from a theater schedule, to upcoming sporting events, a couple of QR codes, pictures, and finally a call to action for the prom committee. That’s right, every year the prom committee was looking for members, and it was a complicated affair. 

The planning committee. She thought for a moment, contemplated the idea of planning an event, and then, a slow smile crept onto her face.

“That’s more like it.”

You can find story with these keywords: Genna, Read Genna, Genna novel, Genna book, Genna story, Genna full, Genna Latest Chapter