Unforgettable by Loretta Ellsworth Read Free Book Online Page B

don’t even attempt to listen during World History. Instead I work on Mr. Shaw’s assignment for Friday: to write down all the descriptions of Daisy Buchanan from the first three chapters of The Great Gatsby . My book is in my backpack somewhere on the third floor, but I don’t need it. I borrow paper and pen and I write how Daisy had bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth, an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget. I write how she had a “lovely shaped face and a charming little laugh,” the words Fitzgerald used to describe her. But the whole time I’m writing those words I’m thinking about Halle, of how they could apply to her. I wonder what Daisy Buchanan’s voice would sound like, how it would compare to Halle’s daffodil voice.
    It’s trouble to be spending so much time thinking about a girl who could potentially recognize me from Pascal Elementary. If I had a normal memory, would I have remembered her from kindergarten? Her righteous anger when I ragged on her imagination? The freckles around her nose that had faded slightly?
    I like to think that I’d remember her regardless. But Halle can’t possibly remember me. At least she left before I became known as the know-it-all kid who constantly corrected my teachers and challenged students to trivia contests. I was just trying to impress people the only way I knew how, with my memory. Throughout the three years Dr. Anderson spent studying me and performing memory tests on me, Mom wouldn’t let him do any brain scans. After all that had happened, she said she just wanted to protect me. Or was she afraid of what he might find?
    Most days I don’t know what to hope for. A man named Solomon Shereshevskii who was born in 1886 had a near-perfect memory and synesthesia, too. He ended up working in a freak show performing feats of memory.
    Personally, I’m hoping for something better than that.

My Plan to Win Halle
    Not many guys get a second shot at love, so I intend to make the most of mine. The first thing I do is buy a bag of jelly beans. I only buy green ones because they’re her favorite, or at least they were back in kindergarten. Then I talk Mom into buying me a yellow shirt, but I don’t buy Big Bird yellow. I go with more of a straw color.
    I place the bag of jelly beans in the middle of the library table before Halle arrives and lean back in the chair with my arms over the sides to show off my shirt. Stay cool, suave, relaxed , I tell myself. So I lean a bit more. Then I almost fall over backward.
    My arms flail around in the attempt to catch myself. I can hear laughing and my face feels like I’ve just swallowed a hot pepper. This is one of those moments I wish I could forget. Then I see Halle standing next to me.
    â€œWhat was that?”
    â€œImpromptu workout.” I twirl my arms. Stick out my chest under the yellow shirt.
    â€œRight.” She rolls her eyes. “Ooh, jelly beans. Can I have some?” She opens the bag and pops two in her mouth. “Green. My favorite!”
    â€œThey’re my favorite, too,” I say as I take a handful. Okay, that’s not really true, but I do like them.
    â€œWell, now that you’ve had your exercise, tell me what you know about the story.” Halle’s eyes fasten on mine like a clamp.
    This is the hard part. I have to be careful not to spit back the book word for word, not to recite verbatim an entire chapter or a summary that sounds like something I got off Wikipedia. In the past teachers accused me of copying when I used the exact words, at least until they found out about my exceptional memory.
    I stare down at Gatsby and try to pick my words carefully. A library helper walks by with a cart full of books. I read the titles as she passes. Two years from now I’ll still remember them, be able to list them in alphabetical order. If I’d been born three hundred years ago,