Remember Me? (Book 1) COMPLETED

Vindication

ERLAND

Even though Nick said not to rush, I still felt the need to hurry. He spoke the way Grandma did in her more lucid moments, with a fervent intensity that could vanish just as quickly as it was inspired. It was a contagious kind of energy.

I threw open the door to my room, dumping the clothes onto the unmade bed. Bella had said that they were new—or just about. I eyed the clothes with suspicion, picking through it like a rookie cop inspects a crime scene: with concern and thinly-veiled revulsion at the sight of blood. Only in this case, the blood was a light blue button-down, a black blazer, and black dress pants. With a belt. And a tie.

Well, I could hang myself with it. Preferable to actually wearing it.

I was tempted to go downstairs just as I was now, with my tattered green Kellogg's Apple Jacks t-shirt, cargo pants heavy with some treasures, and workboots. It seemed, though, that I would also have to ditch those, too. Bella had brought a glossy pair of shoes. Where did she even get these? A brother? A boyfriend?

No, no, I thought quickly, definitely a brother.

As I held up the pants, I couldn't help but think, A tall one.

I started to get ready. When I put the pants on, it suddenly clicked why Bella had supplied a belt. Without the anchor, the black material would continuously fall to my ankles. Soon after I maneuvered the belt to get the pants to stay up, I pulled on the shirt and the blazer. Only then did I realize my fatal mistake. With the belt so tight, I couldn't tuck in the shirt. Cursing under my breath, I wasted another ten minutes fixing my attire to acceptable, adding my shoes and rolling up the bottom edge of the pants. A final sweep of a brush to hide the fact that I hadn't showered and voilà.

I looked like a hobo applying for a job. A scowl darkened the lines of my face.

Whatever, I thought. What other choice do I have?

Before I decidedly went downstairs, however, I emptied the pockets of my cargo pants: my phone, a (spare) phone charger, a box of orange Tic-Tacs, spearmint gum, ID and passport, a picture of mom and dad at a Christmas party and another of me and Kat at an amusement park, and about $30 in tens and fives and an assortment of coins. Surprisingly, everything had survived the accident.

"Erland!" Nick called from the first floor. "Get down here!"

"Almost done!" I shouted back. Quickly, I snatched my ID, cash, and phone. Stashing my ID and cash in the inner breast pocket of of the blazer, I slipped my phone in the pocket of the borrowed pants. My pinching shoes squeaked as I bounded down the stairs. I saw Nick before he saw me.

He had his back to the stairs, casting furtive glances over the front yard through the screen door. When a car pulled into the driveway, Nick turned around, raising a hand, as if to call me downstairs. His eyes landed on me.

All at once, he let out a bark of laugher. "You look like a kid!"

"And you—" I looked him up and down, irked at being judged for something completely out of my control. "—look like an entitled prick about to go off and make millions." Surprisingly enough, I could how Nick could be perceived as reformed. There was a relaxed edge to his formal attire. I, however, was determined to remain skeptical.

Nick's laugh turned sour, the urgency from before returning to the lines of his face. I suddenly wondered if he had something he was going to prove. "Not too far off base there, kid," he said, opening the door to let me out first, "but I hardly make millions. Let's go."

"Go where?" I asked innocently, hoping to get some kind of hint.

"Just get outside, Erland," Nick growled. I almost ran out the door.