Awakening (Awakening, #1)

Chapter 10

A few hours later I'm still outside. Violet doesn't think I see, but I do. She checks out of the back sliding door every five to five and a half minutes. I understand why she may be worried but she needs to calm down a little and not be so tense and worried, especially about me.

I turn my head to the side and just lay there. I try and picture what my life used to be like. But of course, I come up with nothing. Maybe this is a good thing; not remembering where I came from. If I had a good, happy life before this happened to me, I would have no reason to forget it even though it's apart of this whole process Violet tried to explain to me. It would've left a deep enough imprint in my mind to be able to break through this barrier in my head.

I've learned that from watching Violet and the guys. That's family. That's an imprint.

Speaking of the guys however, I've picked up a few of their names from Violet when we went hunting again a few hours ago. I wasn't even hungry, but she insisted that I was. There's Izzy the Irish, he says he doesn't get offended by that name, and people call him that at school. But I'm just going to stick to Izzy for now.

Toby is the blonde hair, grey eyed one. Pax has green eyes the color of the Everglades and he's a redhead. And the rest, I have yet to discover.

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After a few more moments of daydreaming and deep thinking, I smell really deep, intricate scents coming from the kitchen which is right behind the sliding door. I walk to the door, but really I get there in about two seconds flat. Violet is standing behind a large, seemingly oversized box with four squares on the top with fire spitting out of them.

She turns and spots me and a small smile takes shape on her perfect face. "Hi," she says. "I'm just cooking. Making some dinner for the guys, hopefully it'll be ready by the time they get home."

I nod in somewhat understanding. "Get home from where?" I ask.

"Football practice. I couldn't go today," she replies.

A small memory pushes through the barrier. But it's tiny and relatively non-important. It's a memory though. And I know that's progress. I stand quietly for a few moments letting it play in my head like a short film.

I'm so excited to be Center. It's almost as important as playing quarterback himself! Little League may not be important to most, but it's important to Mom. She's the only parent in the stands screaming her head off, "Go, Jonah!," she shouts. "That's my boy! My boy, mine! Get em, honey! Show em how it's done!" She pats the shoulder of the guy next to her, and he firmly nods to her uncomfortably. I laugh and shake my head a little as I put on my helmet when Coach tells me to go out there. I'll admit, I'm nervous, but I've got this.

We all line up and I get right in my spot and dig my feet in a little bit. I look over to Mom, and she's on her feet watching me. I look in the eye of the boy in front of me, and he looks calm and collected. That's when I say, "Hut-hut-hut!" and snap the ball to the quarterback waiting in the wings to score the winning touchdown. Hearing my mom shout and tell me how proud of me she is is better than all the touchdowns in the world.

"You okay?" Violet asks, softly as if she didn't want to disturb the most delicate process in the history of the world. And maybe, in a way that's exactly what that was.

"You play football?" I ask, and she gives me this funny look like that was the last thing on earth she expected me to say. She grins, and turns away to tend to the food again.

"Yep. Been playing since I was young, actually." She doesn't brag or say it in the way I would imagine a girl who played football on a team would say it. No, she says it like it's the most normal thing in the world. And it is, I admire it, I really do. I think it's awesome.

"When I, uh, spaced out. I had a flashback sort of thing. To when I was Center for my Little League team." I tell her. I feel like if I have a breakthrough in this memory business, she should be the first to know. And she will be.

"Really? That's amazing, Jonah. Really, it is. I'm proud of you." She smiles.

"So, what's your position?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"Center," she replies.