My mom picked me up after lunch in what my family lovingly refers to as her "Mom-obile." It's a hulking red van that she's driven ever since Mallory was born 14 years ago. The paint is chipped, the doors are permanently set to child lock, and no matter how thoroughly we clean the interior, you will always find pretzel salt in the back seats. And yet I couldn't imagine my mom ever trading in that thing for something better. I knew she could afford something nicer—most of the partners in her law firm drove sleek black Audis—but something about this car was just so wonderfully her.

I tossed my backpack in the back and climbed into the passenger seat.  "Thanks for picking me up, Mom."

The car grinded forward as soon as I shut the car door. "Oh, it's not a problem," she said. "How's your headache?"

I hadn't wanted to scare my mom too much about my memory loss, so I had lied and told her I had a headache. I was really hoping Taylor was right and I would just sleep it all off.

"It's pretty bad," I lied. "But hopefully it'll get better with a nap."

"Do you think it's a migraine?"

I was about to answer when I finally got a glimpse of what my mother was wearing. She had on a mint green sweatshirt and an old pair of jeans speckled with flour. When I had left for school this morning, she had been dressed in her normal work attire: a black pinstripe suit and two-inch black heels.

"Did you skip work today?" I asked, incredulous. She had mentioned she was baking cookies, but I hadn't made the connection that she might have been home all day until now.

She nodded. "I decided I didn't feel like going in today. As soon as you and Mallory got on the bus, I got into the strangest baking mood. So I called in sick."

"But you never call in sick. You're a lawyer."

"Exactly!" she said as we waited at a stoplight. "Which is why I figured I could finally use one of my sick days. The rest of the team can handle the work for today. And I'll bring them some holiday cookies tomorrow as a thank-you."

"Holiday cookies? Like Halloween cookies?"

"No, Christmas cookies."

I stared at my mother, wondering if she was about to start rapping in Japanese. "But it's October."

My mom opened her mouth to respond, but then paused before a single syllable could escape her lips. "Huh," she said after a moment. "You're right. Not quite sure why I went that route. It just seemed... right at the time."

"I don't understand," I mumbled, but it was too quiet for her to hear. My mom had skipped work to bake Christmas cookies in October. It was all too absurd.

When we finally pulled into the driveway, I had to stop myself from running into the house, into a realm of normalcy in the midst of the strangest day of my life. I inhaled deeply once I crossed the threshold. Yes, the air smelled of sugar and butter, and there was a tray of Christmas tree cookies on the kitchen island, but it was still the home I loved: familiar and normal.

It did seem a little quieter than usual, but that was because Mallory would still be at school for another few hours. As for the other usual source of noise, Evan, he had moved out in August and was enjoying his first few months of college.

"I'm going to take a nap," I told my mom as I started up the stairs. If she heard me, she didn't respond; she had already resumed her position at the electric mixer.

I didn't bother taking off my clothes; I just launched myself onto my bed, buried myself in a pile of blankets, and willed myself to fall asleep. That was easier said than done. There was this nagging feeling in my chest, a sort of anxiety that made it a little difficult to breathe.

What is wrong with me? I thought, trying to take in deep, slow breaths to keep the panic at bay. But Lana's face kept showing up behind my closed eyelids.

This wasn't like me. I was always calm, always collected—not a twisted bundle of nerves, edges frayed like an open wire. Something was wrong. But what?

Sleep, I commanded myself. Don't think about anything else. Sleep, sleep, sleep...

I repeated the mantra over and over to myself. Surprisingly, it worked and I eventually managed to slip out of the realm of the waking—although all my dreams were filled with Lana Gibbons and her dark eyes.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

The voice was sweet and soothing. I thought it was my mother—I could feel a weight on my bed and my mom always sat near my curled knees when I was feeling ill—but when I opened my eyes, I was greeted by a pale face and a pair of large dark eyes.

Lana Gibbons. In my room. Sitting on my bed, happily munching on a Christmas tree-shaped cookie.

Though my heart was pounding, I didn't flinch. "Hey... Lana," I said as I pulled myself into a sitting position.

"Hi Jessa. I'm sorry if I woke you," she said, taking another bite of the sugar cookie. The green frosting lingered on the corner of her mouth for a moment after the bite, but she deftly licked it away with a flick of her tongue. "Your mom let me in."

"That was nice of her," I lied.

"You mentioned you couldn't remember who I was," Lana said, "so I wanted to stop by. See if I could jog your memory." She said it almost distractedly as she finished off the last cookie crumb. She popped it into her mouth and sucked on her finger. "So do you remember who I am now?"

I shook my head and could feel my own frustration bubbling under my skin. I hadn't realized how much I had hoped a nap would set everything straight. And now that that had failed, there was a newfound fear growing in my bones. Something is wrong with me...

Lana reached out her hand, placing it on mine. Her skin was warm. "It's okay," she said with a slight rub. "Don't freak out."

Her touch was not reassuring; it only made my skin crawl. I withdrew my hand as subtly as I could, fighting the urge to jerk it away. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one with memory loss."

The corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. "What if you've forgotten more than just me and you haven't realized it yet?"

Panic flashed through my mind. I hadn't thought of that—maybe my memory was worse than I realized. "Oh God..." I mumbled.

"Why don't I ask you some questions?" she offered. "See if there are any other holes in your memory."

I nodded my head and took a deep breath. "Okay. Fire away."

Her dark eyes sparkled as she placed another Christmas cookie against her lips. Her tongue darted out to lick a small sugar pearl; it reminded me of a thin pink snake. "Name?"

"Jessa Brown."

"Age?"

"Seventeen."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"Two. Mallory and Evan."

I felt confident in my answers; everything she asked was crisp and clear as day in my mind. But then she tilted her head to the side. It was a casual, inquisitive motion. Both humble and curious. And then she asked, "Do you ever get jealous of them? Ever want one of them to go away?"

The way she phrased it—go away—made my stomach squirm. "Uh... not really. Evan's in college. And Mallory is... well, Mallory. She's annoying, but doable. And I'll be in college in a year so it doesn't even matter."

"Oh, right, it's nearly college time," Lana said, looking excited once again. "Have you applied yet?"

I shook my head. "I'm not applying early, so my apps aren't due until December. And then I won't know anything until April or May." I looked at her. "What about you? How is your common app going? Are you applying early decision anywhere?"

She batted her hand. "Don't worry about me," she said, dismissing my question. "You must have a favorite school, one you'd kill to get into?"

Again I shook my head. "I mean, I put some reach schools on my list, but I haven't even visited any of them yet. Figured I'd wait until I got in somewhere."

Lana's face fell and I felt a twinge of guilt in my gut. What did I say wrong? I wondered. There was something about Lana that made me want to please her, made me want her to be my friend... and yet there was also something about her that was off. Whenever there was a lull in our conversation, I could feel a restlessness in my skin, an urge to get up and get as far away from her as possible. Like now. It took a good amount of concentration to keep myself from swinging my legs out from under the covers and escaping to the safety of my living room.

"Okay," she said finally, breaking the silence. "Let's move on to something else. What do you like to do for fun, Jessa?"

"Um... hang with friends." Her face was still as stone. Not the right answer, I guess. "And I like to sing."

Her face lit up like a lamp. "What kind of singing?"

"I don't know. A mix of things. Pop songs. Some theatre stuff since Mallory plays it non-stop."

"Have you ever wanted to sing professionally? Maybe get a record deal or perform in a Broadway show?"

"Not really.  I kind of like just doing it for fun, like in the shower or the car."

Again, her face fell.

I leaned forward. "Are you all right, Lana?"

She pressed her lips together; her face was hard to decipher. But she only answered, "I'm fine. I'm just trying to find out how you're doing." Then, after a pause, she added, "I want to know what you want."

I laughed, the sound a little dry. "That's easy. I want my memories back."

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "That's not what I meant. Like, what do you want want?" She puffed out her cheeks. "If you had a million dollars, what would you buy?"

"Um, Lana, I'm not sure if this is going to help me jog my memory—"

"What would you buy?" she repeated sharply.

Geesh. "Um... a cool house? Probably save some away for college. And maybe I'd give some to charity."

"Anyone sick in your family?"

The rapid change of topic startled me. "What?"

"Anyone sick or dying that you know. Friend, family member? Next door neighbor?" She was listing them out on her skinny fingers. "Cancer maybe? Or just super old age?"

"No, no one is dying—"

"What about a boyfriend?" she asked, this time desperation clear in her voice. "Is there someone you like?"

"No! I'm really not into any of the guys at school."

"So you'd like to meet someone new?"

"I'm really in no rush to find someone."

Lana cursed and mumbled a string of words under her breath. I was only able to catch "wrath" and "pride" on her list, and before I could say something, she cut me off.

"Jessa," she said, staring me hard in the eye, "are you telling me that there is nothing you want? Truly want? More quality time with your parents? Money for college? Is anyone bullying you? Do you want to be Prom Queen in June?"

For the first time, I thought that maybe I wasn't the only one going crazy. "I don't know what to tell you Lana. I really don't want anything except to remember who you are so that I can stop feeling like I'm stuck in some weird alternate universe."

At this, Lana slid off the bed and marched towards my bedroom door.

"Hey!" I called after her. "Where are you going?"

"Away," she said. "To figure things out."

"What?"

"I can't work under these conditions."

I blinked. "Work?"

"I'll be back soon," she said, looking over her shoulder so she could stare at me, analyzing my face hard. "And while I'm gone, think about what you want."

And before I could say anything else, she was gone.