I woke up with a headache. “Come on, Kenz, it’s only one more day, then you can sleep for two weeks,” I told myself as I hauled myself out of bed. The last day before Winter Break was always hard on everyone. It was nice to know there were only 24 hours left until break, but those hours went by agonizingly slow.

“Kenzie! Come on, get ready!” Mom called from downstairs. Once I had gotten dressed, I messed with my hair. In the mirror, I played with a few different styles: down, half pulled back, or left side braid. These were my typical hairdos, because they would cover my scar. A lot of people have little scars on their legs and arms, and they wear them proudly, but mine is angry red and carves down my head, behind my left ear. I don’t like to show it off. After deciding to leave my hair down, I headed down for breakfast. After I’d eaten the delicious eggs my mom had made, it was off to school. I met my best friend, Maya, at the front door of the school.

“How’s it going today?” she asked as we walked to English together.

“Way too slow. Why can’t break just come already?” I groaned. Maya laughed as we walked in and took our seats.

Fifteen minutes later we were well into a discussion about an excerpt from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, led by a cranky old substitute named Mrs. Laverne. Usually teachers left busywork for us to do with subs, but today, it was a full-length discussion.

“Now who can give me a quote that shows Hermia’s love for Lysander?” Mrs. Laverne asked. She peered over her old wiry glasses at the class and looked surprised to find no one raising their hand. She looked back down to her seating chart. “How about…Miss…Johnson? Mackenzie Johnson?” I didn’t even realize she had called on me until Maya gave a little cough.

“I’m sorry, what?” I jerked up quickly. “Wait, no, but—“

“Please share with us a quote of Hermia’s love for Lysander,” Mrs. Lavergne repeated impatiently. “You can read, can’t you, Miss Johnson?”

“Uh, well, yes of course,” I stuttered. That was the reason I hated substitutes. It’s obvious they never checked the files the teacher left them, or else they would see a form explaining that I shouldn’t be asked to read for the class. However, I didn’t want to make a scence. I looked down at my paper. “The, Tha, Th-Th-Thou,” I stuttered over the first word. The letters seemed to blur together. “Thou w-w-wil—“

“Stop!” Mrs. Lavergne interrupted. “What’s wrong with you girl? Do I need to send you back to elementary school? In my day, you would have been spanked.” I shrunk into my seat, humiliated.

“Um, well, you see…” I babbled.

“Mrs. Lavergne? I’d like to read,” offered Maya, raising her hand.

“Thank you,” I mouthed.

After class, I met up with Maya. “Thank you so much,” I said as we walked out.

“No problem. It’s not the class’s business to know that a ladder fell on your head, erased your memory, and basically destroyed your ability to read,” she laughed. “Hey, could you come over after school? My brother’s roommate is coming to stay with us over the break, and I could use some company before the bromance begins.”

“Sure,” I laughed. “See you later.”

In the hallway, I got the feeling people were watching me. I heard snickers as I walked. People would look up from their conversations as I passed. I put my head down and walked quickly to the locker room. Not looking up as I walked through the door, I walked straight to my locker and changed facing the wall. Everyone was in a hurry and no one seemed to notice me. Just as I was turning around, I heard some girls laughing in the next row.

“The, th-th-th-th- She should be sent back to kindergarten,” they mocked. I felt the tears well up in my eyes. I held back as everyone left the room. When I was finally alone, I sank down against the lockers, and let the tears come. Maybe the teachers were wrong; I wasn’t ready for a normal English class. After being in Special Ed for five years, the teachers had decided I was ready for a normal English class, as long as I took Special Ed concurrently. It was all because of that stupid accident. I had just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Mom and I were just finishing up packing before we moved to our new house in Thousand Oaks from Canada. Mom had a ladder set up next to the back door for getting the last picture frames off the shelf. I was walking around, trying to help when a gust of wind brought the ladder crumpling down on me, taking away all my memories through age ten. At least, that’s what I’m told. That’s the way Mom tells the story, and I believe her. Overall, she doesn’t like to talk about our life in Canada. She says it brings up too many painful memories, raising me as a single mom, in addition to my accident. So I’ve come to accept that I had to start a new life five years ago, and let the old Mackenzie Johnson go. However, there is one memory that is burned in my mind; the only thing I remember from before age ten: a picture of a town sign reading, “Welcome to Roswold”. When I asked Mom, she said it’s the town we used to live in in Canada, and not to ask anymore. But I’ve searched it many times on the Internet and found no results. Mom said it was too small and unimportant for there to be any stories about it in the news, but I’m still secretly hoping for a day when I can find out more about this mysterious town.


I cried to myself for about a half hour. By the time I pulled myself together, saying I would have to deal with this stuff eventually, the class was almost over. I decided to wait until all the girls came back in and to leave with everyone else.

As I was waiting for my mom to pick me up from school, Maya reminded me to come over later. It was so nice not to have to worry about the stress of homework, or tests, or annoying students. It was Winter Break, which meant two weeks of relaxation heaven. Mom pulled up in her gray car with a grim look on her face. When I opened the door, she started questioning me right away.

“Did you skip a class today? I got a call saying you had an unexcused absence from P.E. What is this? You know better than that, Mackenzie; you’re a great student!”

“Not so much,” I mumbled under my breath.

“What was that? Did something happen at school I need to know about? Should I call the principal, or superintendent, or—“ she asked, immediately slipping into concerned mother mode. My mom was so overprotective, she wouldn’t let me do anything on my own without supervision. Sometimes I appreciated it because she was my first hand knowledge to anything I had learned before I was ten. Other times, it was just unnecessary and extremely annoying.

“Nothing, I’m fine. School’s fine. Can I go over to Maya’s in a little while?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“Fine. As long as you promise to tell me if anything is going on,” she said reluctantly, “Oh my, you really need to wash your hair Mackenzie, look at this,” she said, rubbing my head. My mom had some weird obsession with my appearance. I was always had to fit her “look”. My hair always had to be a certain length, and she always had me use the same shampoo. Plus, she always had to open and check the shampoo before giving it to me with the excuse, “We don’t want anything affecting your sensitive scalp.” Also, I had to wear color contacts, which made my eyes just a shade darker brown. I didn’t know her reason for this, but I went along with it anyway. When we got home, I grabbed a snack, and then headed next door to the Belaneys. When I knocked, Maya’s brother, Lucas, answered the door.

“Hey, Kenzie. I heard you had a hard day at school today. Come on in,” he said, opening the door. I walked into the living room to see a guy sitting on the couch, watching football. He had dirty blond hair and was mildly stocky. Maya walked in from the kitchen.

“Thanks for coming over,” she said. “This is my brother’s roommate.”
The guy turned around. He had light blue green eyes and a soft smile. He held his hand out.

“Hey, I’m Trevor,” he greeted. “Maya’s been talking about you a lot.”
I shook his hand. “Kenzie. Nice to meet you.” I stared at him for a minute. There was something familiar about that smile. I thought I’d seen it before. "Lots of people have the same smile. Stop getting your hopes up", I thought to myself. I turned to Maya. “Ready?”

Just then, Mrs. Belaney called down from upstairs, “Maya! Lucas! Come up here for a minute!”

Maya gave me an apologetic look as she and her brother headed up the stairs. I turned back to Trevor. “So, how do you like UCLA?” I asked trying to make casual conversation.

“Well, it’s a big change from back home. I’m from a small town in Maine. No one really gets out much,” he answered with that quirky smile.

“Was Los Angeles a shock when you got here last year?” I joked.
He smiled back. “Not quite. Twice a year my parents and I go to London to visit the rest of the family.”
Just then, Maya came back down. “Ok, sorry, ready now? Let’s go up to my room.”
Trevor waved. “It was nice meeting you, Kenzie. I think I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”

Maya and I spent an hour goofing off and looking at old photos from fifth grade. I pointed to a picture where her hair was about twice as long now, pulled into two low pigtails. I had slightly lighter hair pulled up into a bushy high ponytail. We both had giant smiles plastered on our faces, filled with orthodontia. My braces had hot pink bands, while Maya’s were sky blue. We both looked slaphappy. Next came a picture of when we had given Lucas a makeover while he was asleep on the couch. He had woken up with red cheeks and red lips, plus a dirty mouth. Maya and I had both been grounded for a week after that. After flipping through many more hilariously embarrassing pictures, I checked the clock, and noticed it was almost dinnertime.

“Okay, I think I have to go, or Mom will freak out that I’m not home for dinner.” Maya playfully groaned and waved bye. On my way out the door, I saw Trevor still sitting on the couch.

“Hey Trevor, I’m leaving. I was wondering if I could have your number to see when we could hang out,” I suggested. We exchanged numbers and then I finally left for dinner. As I walked out the door, I noticed Maya scowling from the top of the stairway.


“Mom. I’m home!” I called, walking into the kitchen. My mom turned around from the stove, wearing her usual cooking apron. It had colorful handprints all over. Apparently, I had made it for her in kindergarten, and she thought it was very special. “It smells good in here. What are you making?” I asked, walking up to the stove.

“Oh just some fish, cooked just the way you like it,” she smiled.
We sat down at our usual spots at the small kitchen table. No need for a big kitchen when you have a two-person family, and the only company you ever have is your best friend. We had a quiet dinner, with just small conversation.

“How was Maya’s?” Mom asked.

“Good,” I said through a mouthful of fish. “Lucas’s roommate is staying with them over break, so I met him.”

Mom tensed a little bit. I already knew this was going to happen. Whenever I met new people, Mom always wanted to know about them: what they were like, what they liked to do, where they were from, etc. I guess it was all part of being a protective mother.

“So what’s he like?” she asked.

“Relax, Mom, he’s a good guy. He seems really sweet…” I paused, waiting for a reaction. When she showed no sign of one, I prompted her, “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure, you know the rules. Just keep me posted,” she answered, and then leaned across the table. “Honey, you need to wash that hair, look at all that dandruff. I have a new bottle of shampoo for you…” she changed the subject as I rolled my eyes.

The next day I spent lounging around the house, catching up on all of my missed TV episodes. I was enjoying Winter Break already. The day was pretty uneventful. During a rerun of Modern Family, I got a text from Trevor asking if he wanted to hang out the day after. I replied yes. Later on, I received a text from Maya asking about what was going on with Trevor. The message read, “What was that yesterday? Right when you met Trevor you seemed all warm and friendly, like you’ve known him for years. You talked to him for like five minutes, and now you’re already best friends? What’s up with that?”

I pondered her question for a few minutes. Trevor and I did seem to click, but not in a romantic way. I answered her, “Don’t worry. I don’t know what it is, but we just bonded quickly. He’s a really nice guy. Do you have a problem with us hanging out?”

“No, just remember he’s my brother’s roommate, it’s just weird,” she answered, and that was it.

The next day, I met Trevor in the park down the street. We walked and talked for a while, getting to know each other. The more we talked, the more I got the feeling that he was familiar, that I recognized him from somewhere. He talked about where he was from, a small town in Maine. I talked about Thousand Oaks, and how I had pretty much grown up here for the life I could remember. Even though, he seemed very open and friendly, I could tell there were certain subjects he steered clear of. If he had secrets, that was okay. Even though I liked Trevor a lot, I wasn’t quite comfortable sharing my entire story yet either. As we passed by the garden, my favorite part of the park, I began to tune out of our conversation. I gazed at the colorful plants, all coming in different shapes and sizes. They were all so beautiful.

“…and so back home in Roswold…” Trevor was saying. My head snapped up.

“Roswold?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s the town that I’m from,” Trevor answered. The thoughts started racing around in my head. Roswold. That was the town from my memory, the only thing I had left of my childhood. I thought I was getting my hopes up. Roswold was the town where my mom and I moved from in Canada, right after my accident. It had to be a different town. But how many towns called Roswold could there be? What was that saying, that Mom had lied to me? Surely it was all a misunderstanding.

“Kenzie? Are you okay?” Trevor asked, looking at me with concern. I hadn’t realized that I had leaned against the garden wall for support, and was slowly sliding down. I let myself sit, and Trevor plopped down next to me.

“Tell me more about Roswold,” I said blatantly, my mind still spinning.

“Okay,” Trevor looked at me with confusion. “Well, it’s a small town on the northeastern coast of Maine. It’s boating distance to Nova Scotia. It’s usually pretty cloudy and gloomy, but the town is pretty happy. Everyone knows everyone in town, and we’re all pretty friendly. Why do you ask?”

“Have you ever heard of another town named Roswold?” I asked, ignoring the question.

“No, I mean, I don’t think it’s a common name. Maybe somewhere out there, there is one, but I haven’t heard of any. Why? What’s wrong?”

My mind would not stop spinning, and I felt dizzy. “Sorry,” I said. “I need to go home. I’ll talk to you later.” I stood up slowly and walked home without looking back.

That night, I went to bed without dinner. I wasn’t hungry or tired, or anything. All I wanted to do was think, but I wasn’t even capable of doing that. By twelve-thirty, I finally felt slightly fatigued, so I decided to lie in bed, even though sleep was far off. I kept telling myself that it was a coincidence, a misunderstanding. Maybe I had misheard him. Maybe he had said something else. After thinking for another few minutes, I was able to get one clear thought: I needed to find out as much about this boy as possible. Maybe he held the answers that I had been looking for for the past five years.

The next few days I spent alone, needing time to think. I received many texts from Maya. She was always asking to hang out, and then answering dejectedly when I said I was busy. She seemed to think something was up; our friendship seemed strained. I tried to make time for her, but there was never enough. I also rejected any contact from Trevor. I needed some time away, time to make sense of things. Eventually, I knew I would have to face him again. No doubt he would have questions about my strange behavior. He would want to know what I knew about his town, bringing up the questions about my past, ones I wasn’t ready to discuss yet. After three days, I knew it was enough. I had to see him. I finally texted back, saying to meet me at the local ice cream parlor.

“Hey, what’s been going on?” he greeted outside the shop.

“Oh, I was a little tired, and Mom wanted me home for dinner,” I tried to explain.

“No, something’s changed. You reacted to something I said, when I was explaining about my family. Was it the town I’m from?” Trevor pressed. I looked away, not wanting to lie. “You know what, Kenzie? Everyone’s got secrets. It’s a part of life. But to me, it seems like your whole life is a secret. I like that we’ve been getting closer, but you still won’t open up. And when I reveal just the slightest information about myself, you run off.”

“Can we go get some ice cream? It’s pretty hot out here,” I interrupted. He sighed, and we walked up to the booth. We spent a few moments looking at the yellow menu above our heads.

“I’ll have a cup of cookies and cream,” I told the guy in the booth, breaking the silence.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Trevor added, taking out his wallet.

“Oh no, you don’t have to pay,” I said, shaking my head.

“No, it’s on me,” Trevor argued. As he took out a crisp bill, a small piece of paper fell out of the wallet. He didn’t seem to notice. I bent down to pick it up as Trevor walked around to get the ice cream. I got a better look at the paper. It was a picture of a young girl who looked about ten years old. She had golden blonde hair and soft brown eyes. Her skin was a pale white, and she had a soft smile. I turned the picture over. It read, “Gemma, November 2007. I realized she had the same smile as Trevor. I thought that this must be a family member. I hadn’t ever heard Trevor talk about siblings, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have any. I felt a small twinge of jealousy at the thought of having someone who still had a sense of youth, a sense of childhood living under your same roof. I had always wanted a sibling, even though I knew it wasn’t an option because there were absolutely no men in my mother’s life.

I hurried to catch up to Trevor. He handed me my ice cream, and we started walking through the park. Trevor seemed very quiet now. He carried a sad, solemn air with him. I wondered why there was a change in his mood.

“So, you dropped this, back at the ice cream stand,” I said expectantly, holding up the picture of the girl. He looked at the photo.

“Yeah, that’s my sister,” Trevor sighed, taking a deep breath. I could see how much he treasured this picture.

“Can I ask?” I wondered aloud.

Trevor walked ahead, not checking to see if I was following. I hurried to catch up. “Her name was Gemma; she was ten; we were pretty close.”

“And?” I prodded hesitantly, not wanting to pry too much.

“And one day, five years ago, she just disappeared. It was the last day before Winter Break, and I was supposed to babysit her after school. I was fourteen. She never came home,” Trevor turned to me, not meeting my eyes. “This is the last picture I have of her,” he said looking down. “The last time I saw her was that morning, when she waved goodbye while leaving to walk to school.” He took a ragged breath, and I wondered if he was going to cry. “We looked and looked, for a year. No one could find anything, not the police, not my parents, not me, no one. She was last seen walking out of her fourth grade class, and the only thing the police found was a fallen ladder in our neighbor’s yard, which was on the way home. No one knows if she’s alive or dead. My parents felt the only way to cope was just to forget. They got rid of all pictures, videos, and art projects, and then stopped talking about her altogether. This is all I have left of her,” he explained while glancing at it sadly.

“I’m so sorry…” I began to say.

“You know, you kind of remind of her,” Trevor looked up suddenly. “You have that same easy, soft manner about you. I think she’d be around your age now. She loved our trips to London every year. She loved discovering the new experiences from a different part of the world.”

“See that’s not like me at all,” I said. “I’ve never even left the LA area, at least not recently. All our family vacations are to Hollywood or Disneyland.”
He gave a sad laugh. “I know I talked about secrets earlier. That was my big secret. I usually don’t like talk about my sister.” There was a long silence. I started to have a feeling like I could really trust Trevor, that he wouldn’t judge me no matter what I told him. I was honored that he felt comfortable enough with me to tell me this big part of his life. But I also felt indebted, that I needed to share one of my secrets as well. I kept the silence as I mustered up enough courage to tell him about my unknown childhood.

“Well…” I had just started, when my phone buzzed. “Hi Mom,” I said, picking up.

“Mackenzie? Where are you? You need to get home for dinner. Come straight home, right now, no stalling,“ she hung up right away. I could tell from her tone that she meant business. I could not argue.

“Sorry, I’ve got to go. Mom wants me home for dinner right now,” I apologized to Trevor. “But thank you for sharing that with me.”

He nodded. “I’ll walk home with you. You know, I’ve never met your mom before,” he added.

I laughed. “I don’t know if you want to. She’s an overprotective control freak.”

“Whatever, let’s go,” he said.

A few blocks away from home, I stopped. “You know, we got cut off earlier,” I said.

“I thought your mom wanted you home right away,” he said, warily.

“Well, this can’t wait. About what you told me earlier, about secrets, I have one too.” I took a deep breath; Trevor waited expectantly. “Sorry, this is difficult; I’ve never really talked about it with anyone else but Maya. So, a few years ago, I had my own accident. I had a head injury, while we were packing up to move here, and I still have some brain damage. I was in the hospital for a long time recovering, but I still have difficulty reading, throbbing headaches, and permanent memory loss. Everything I know from before I was ten, I was told by my mom. She was my crutch; she retaught me everything. She doesn’t really like to talk about it much; she says we started a new life here. It was a new country, new people, new life. I guess she hovers so much to make sure our life doesn’t turn out like our life back in Canada. I think it was pretty rough, especially working as a single mom; my dad didn’t stick around too long,” I finished explaining, out of breath.

Trevor shook his head. “You said you don’t remember anything from when you were little, but there is one thing you do remember. Roswold, my hometown. You recognized it. I know you did.”

“Yeah, my mom says it was where we lived in Canada. It’s the only thing I remember from before my accident,” I shrugged. By now, we had gotten to my house.

“Something isn’t right, Kenzie. You realize how closely related these two situations are? This can’t be a coincidence,” he said, and then paused. “We’ll work this out later, right now let’s meet your mom.”

I put the key in the lock, and turned it slowly. Trevor was right. Something wasn’t right. I had this feeling that bringing him home was going to make it worse. As I pushed the door open, I yelled, “Mom, I’m home!” She came bounding down the stairs, looking frazzled, her short, dark hair ruffled. I turned behind me. “Trevor, this is my mom, L—“

“Nurse Rebecca?” Trevor gasped behind me. I looked sharply behind me.

“What? Trevor? This is my mom, Laura Johnson,” I said, clueless. Trevor didn’t seem to hear me. He walked up to Mom, a look of disbelief on his face.

“Nurse Rebecca, we haven’t seen you in years! Why didn’t you tell us you had moved here? Mom was so worried when we didn’t hear from you. You didn’t leave a way for us to contact you. We missed you so much,” Trevor practically whispered while going to embrace her. Mom looked flustered. She was glancing back and forth frantically between me in the doorway, and Trevor walking up to hug her.

I tried again. “Trevor, I think you’re confused. My mom’s name is Laura. Who is this Rebecca? What’s going on?”

Still nothing. I looked up at Mom who looked panicked.

“How many years ago did you leave Roswold? I think about five? It was a little before Gemma…” Trevor’s face turned from happiness to horror. “You…”

Mom finally came out of her shock. “Mackenzie, go to your room. Right now! Go!” she ordered.

I wouldn’t be moved so easily. “Mom? Someone tell me what’s going on! How does he know you?” I demanded. My curiosity turned to anger.

“Just go!” Mom yelled, practically herding me up the stairs.

I heard Trevor whisper something as I was prodded and shoved to my room. I couldn’t hear over the commotion, but I could’ve sworn he said, “Gemma…” while staring at me in wonder.


Upstairs, Mom locked me in my room. She said I needed to stay there for my own good, and that we’d talk later. I pounded on the door and burst into tears. What was going on? How did Trevor know my mom, like they were good friends? I did know one thing; someone had lied to me. I didn’t know who it was, but after hearing the recent commotion, I knew Mom and Trevor couldn’t be right at the same time.
After crying for a long time in frustration, I realized I wasn’t going to get any answers by making a fuss. While pulling myself together, I started getting a headache. It was another effect of my accident. If I got too worked up, my head would throb and ache right behind my left ear, right on the scar. I told myself to ignore it, that there were more important things to worry about now. I walked over to the mirror, to see how unraveled I looked. My makeup was smudged under my eyes, but the most surprising sight was my hair. Right at my scalp, I noticed little patches of light hair. They looked blonde. I blinked a few times. I had lighter brown hair, but it was nowhere near blonde. I realized that I hadn’t listened to Mom when she said to wash my hair. I had completely forgotten, which was disgusting, but I had gone a really long time without washing it. I stared at the little blonde patch. Was this what my hair looked like when it was dirty? I heard shouting downstairs, so I pressed my ear to the door to listen closely.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Trevor asked in disgust.

“Trevor, let’s just talk. Like you said, I haven’t seen you in five years. You’re all grown up,” Mom answered in a gentle tone.

“No!” he roared. “It’s her. I know it’s her. The timing works out perfectly. You stole her away, didn’t you? And what, caused her accident so she wouldn’t remember?”

Now Mom was sniffling. “What are you talking about? Why would I have done that?”

“Why? I don’t know to hell why. But just answer this. Answer this one question. Is it her?” Trevor asked

“Who?” Mom’s voice was a desperate sob.

“You know damn-well who!” Trevor exploded.

“Yes,” now an ugly sneer, I had never heard Mom sound this way.
I heard Trevor breathing raggedly. “Why did you do it? Take her away? What did you do, drop a ladder on her head? You could’ve killed her!”
Mom’s voice was still that ugly sneer. “I did no such thing. How dare you even think that? You think I would intentionally harm a child?”
Trevor let out a laugh without humor. “I don’t know what you would do anymore. All I know is that my sister is sitting alone up there, with no memory of her first ten years of life!”

I had heard enough. I jerked away from the door, gasping for breath. I don’t think I could handle listening to anymore of this conversation. My eyes had gotten irritated from crying, so I took out my contacts. As I did, I caught another glimpse of myself in the mirror. I realized I really did look different; that I wouldn’t be that hard to disguise. Curious, I got up and walked to my attached bathroom to check the shampoo. I had a theory. I grabbed the half-full bottle from the shower and also the unopened one on the shelf. For a moment, I stopped to reconsider. Did I really want to know the truth; that my mom had been lying to me? I wouldn’t let myself think about it. I took the cap off the already-used bottle, to reveal a light brown liquid, as usual. Then, I ripped off the seal on the new bottle, against my mother’s rules, and just stood there, looking at the translucent white shampoo. In a way, I had known what I would find. My mom had been slipping hair dye into my shampoo. I ran back to the mirror. Covering everything but the blonde spot around my scalp, I looked in the mirror again, recognizing the resemblance between Trevor’s sister and the girl staring back at me in the reflection.

“So that’s her. Gemma,” I whispered. “No,” I corrected. “Me.”


There was still fighting going on downstairs, but I blocked it out as I lay in bed, trying to let everything sink in. I tried to sort out everything I’d heard downstairs. My mother had been a family friend of the Critsons, but apparently decided to steal their daughter for herself. She had caused my accident to erase my memory and then moved us across the country to start a new life.

“Guess I’m not really Canadian,” I whispered to myself.
The more I thought about the situation, my confusion turned to anger. My mom had lied about everything. She had me growing up as a teenager without any childhood memories, saying they were too painful to retell. She had intentionally injured me, which could have been fatal. I began to wonder how that happened. Was it really a ladder that hit my head like she said? Trevor had brought up the idea that she intentionally pushed it on me.

I stood up abruptly. I had to talk to someone. Mom and Trevor were out of the question, and there was only one other person I felt comfortable talking to. I dialed a number. The rolling tone rang four times before an annoyed voice picked up.

“What?” Maya sighed.

“Okay, Maya, I know you’re mad at me for some reason even though I don’t know why, but I really need to talk,” I spoke quickly.

“Why don’t you just go tell Trevor? You seem to be with him all the time anyway,” she said, still in an annoyed tone.

So that’s what this was about. “You’re angry because I’ve been spending so much time with Trevor?” I asked.

“Oh, stop being so naïve, Kenzie. You don’t think I’d notice? You two are all over each other. What, too shy to come out about your relationship?” she sneered.

“What?” I asked incredulously. “I am not dating Tr---…“

“Save it. I already know. How could you do this to me, Kenzie? I told you at the beginning that he was like a brother to me…”

“Well, he actually is a brother to me!” I yelled, and then gasped. I hadn’t meant for it to come out that way. I had wanted to explain it to Maya slowly, not screaming at her through the phone. There was silence on the other end. “Maya?” I asked quietly.

I heard her soft breaths through the phone. “What do you mean?” she asked. I had trouble starting to explain, but after I got through the first part, the words just flowed out of my mouth. I left nothing out. At the end, I thought I heard Maya sniffle.

“I’m so sorry, this is my fault,” Maya whined.

“How could any of this be your fault?” I asked.

“This afternoon, I’d had enough of you spending time with Trevor. All I wanted was for you to get away from him. I called your mom, knowing she would call you home immediately if she knew you were off with some stranger.”

I flashed back to earlier, and how urgent Mom’s voice had sounded on the phone.
“Whatever. There’s no time for this. I don’t know what to do,” I said, just starting to sound desperate. “I think I need to get out of here.”

“Why don’t you go back with Trevor to see his family—your family?” Maya suggested.

I hadn’t heard a word of this. “What? He never told me he was going back to Maine,” I said. Then I thought about it. I would get out of here, away from Mom, and get to meet my other family—my real family. Just as I was about to answer, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. “I have to go,” I whispered into the phone. “Please talk to Trevor, and work something out.”

Mom unlocked my door and came in. “Kenzie?” she asked quietly. I turned away, not ready to face her. “Look, I’m not sure how much you heard from up here, but I wanted to give you a true explanation,” she said, coming to sit on my bed. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Yes, I do deserve an explanation, but not from you! You’d probably just lie and tell me some sugarcoated version of everything that’s happened,” I exploded.

“Honey,“ she started, “I’m sorry this—“

“No, Mom, just don’t. No, I can’t even call you Mom anymore, can I? Laura, wait no that wasn’t real either. What was it…Rebecca! There is only one thing I want to know. One thing only you can tell me about. How did this happen?” I asked, yanking back my hair to reveal the scar. “Don’t tell me it was some accident when we were moving from Canada.”

She took a long breath. “You were walking home from school, and a ladder fell on you from a neighbor’s yard,” she said, voice shaking.

“How?” I said, “Don’t tell me this was some accident caused by the wind. There would have been witnesses. Someone would have noticed a girl lying unconscious on the sidewalk. You caused this somehow, making sure no one could see or hear it.”

She sighed. “Yes, it was me. But I was also the one who got you help. I took you to a great hospital, far away of course, because there was no good health care in that ratty little town. I saved your life, Kenzie. Without me, you would have died.”

I looked at her incredulously. “I wouldn’t have needed the medical help if you hadn’t hurt me in the first place! You lied to me for five years, let me grow up as a Special Ed kid. I was bullied and teased all because of you! Why me? Why did you choose me?”

“From the moment I saw you, Kenzie, I knew you were the perfect child. I worked with your mother; we were friends. The moment you were born I knew you would be mine. I saw all your childhood milestones: your first words, first steps, first day of school. You should be honored. You were so perfect!”

I backed up slowly, not believing what she was saying. This woman was sick. “Honored? You basically stalked me for ten years and then stole me away for the other five years!”

“Please calm down; everything will be back to normal as soon as that boy leaves,” she said standing up.

“Normal? You can’t possibly believe I’m going to stay here after everything that’s happened,” I said, shaking my head, heading for the door.

“Kenzie, please. Everything will be okay soon,” she pleaded.
I heard a hint of panic in her voice, the same tone she used when I had gotten lost in the mall, or stayed out late passed curfew. I could hear her genuine concern. I paused at the door.

“You don’t get a say in what I do or do not do anymore. I don’t know if I’m coming back or not. I need time to think,” I said, turning around. “Good bye, Mom,” I whispered, and then shut the door.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going back to Maine?” I asked as we waited in the security line at the airport.

“I was going to tell you that day with the ice cream, but Maya heard me talking on the phone with my mom and gave me a whole speech about why I shouldn’t tell you. She said you’d be heart-broken that I was leaving and that you would try to make me choose between my family and you,” Trevor explained, sounding confused. “She didn’t think we were….”

“She may have been a little jealous,” I grumbled, mentally scolding Maya for lying about me. We finally made it up through the long line, and passed through security. As we finished getting our luggage, I heard Trevor say something next to me. I stopped.

“Come on, Gemma,” he stood up, starting to walk away. When he saw I wasn’t following, he turned around with a questioning look. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Don’t call me that,” I said quietly, then louder, “Trevor, don’t call me that.”

“What are you talking about? It’s your name.”

“No, my name is Mackenzie Johnson, okay? Maybe at one time I was Gemma Critson, but that girl is gone. I’m not her anymore, okay?. Let’s get that straight. I don’t mean for this visit to be a homecoming, like I’ve just gotten home from a big trip. This isn’t a family reunion. I am coming to meet the family, but this is a new experience for me; I don’t remember anyone. I don’t want to be treated like the new toy of the family, understand?” I said.

After a moment, he answered, “Alright, whatever you say, Kenzie.”

“Great,” I smiled.

I sat on the plane, gazing out the window, I thought of all the new experiences yet to come, starting with this one. I’d never been on a plane before—well actually I had, not that I had any memory of it—I watched the clouds swirling below us as we soared through the sky, and I knew that I have so many more adventures to explore with my new life.


The woman sat on the park bench outside the playground by the nursery school, watching all the young girls and boys play. She saw their innocent joyful faces and felt a familiar pang of envy. Glancing down disdainfully at the pictures in her hand, she was reminded of her failed first attempt at raising her own child. Flipping over the top picture, she read the caption, “Laura and Mackenzie 2012”. Taking the scissors from her purse, she cut a line down the picture, then crumpling up the half with the teenage girl on it. She then flipped the remaining part over, now only saying “Laura”. She scribbled over the name in thick black pen and thought for a minute. She would need a new name. Turning her head back to the playground, she mentally picked through each child, deciding which would be the best fit. She’d need to be more careful this time; find someone with a closer resemblance and with no personal connection. This time there could be no questions asked, no suspicion. Finally, her eyes fell upon a small girl with long black braids, pink bows, and small dimples. Once again, the woman knew: That child would be hers someday.