Read Online The Memory Game by Sharon Sant - Free Book Online

sandwiches?’
    ‘I suppose not.’
    She opens it up
and unwraps her lunch. 
    ‘What’s on
them?’ I ask.
    ‘Ham and pickle.’
    ‘I think I like
ham and pickle.’  
    She sees me look
at her food longingly. ‘I suppose you can’t eat,’ she says.
    I shake my head.
    She looks
thoughtful. Then she says, ‘Try to imagine what it tastes like while I eat
mine.  Then maybe it’ll feel like we’re eating them together.’
    I stare at her
for a moment.  Then I close my eyes and think about salty ham and the
fruity sharpness of pickle and I can almost remember the flavours.
    When I open my
eyes she’s smiling at me.
    ‘How was that?’
    ‘Good,’ I say.
    ‘I think I know
why Ingrid is so upset,’ she says suddenly.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Maybe she gave
something away last night, something she can never get back.’ She snorts. ‘To Matt Spencer, of all people.’
    ‘What does that
even mean?’
    She sighs and
takes another bite of her sandwich. ‘Do you think they’ve split up?’
    ‘Don’t
know.  I hope so.’
    ‘Why should you
care now?’ she says carefully.
    ‘I still like
her.  Just because you’re dead you don’t stop fancying people.’
    ‘Does everything
like that stay the same? Do you still get emotions and… urges ,’ she says
the word quickly, like it’s embarrassing, ‘and stuff?’
    ‘Sort of.   But it feels like I’m forgetting those
things as well, slowly.’
    ‘Maybe you’re
not forgetting them, exactly… just changing.  You still seem pretty human
to me.’
    ‘Thanks… I
think.’
    ‘We still need
to figure out what’s happening to you,’ she says.  I feel like it’s a very
deliberate change of subject.
    ‘Any more thoughts?’
    Bethany
looks up sharply as a group of year seven boys race past the opening to our
narrow entryway. It seems to remind her that although it feels like we’re alone
here, we’re really not.
    ‘You shouldn’t
be talking to me now,’ she says.
    ‘I seem to
recall you started it.’
    ‘You took me by
surprise; I didn’t expect you to be here.  I can normally come here and be
alone.’
    ‘Are you mental?
Matt is always here.  You’ll have to find somewhere else to go in future.’
    ‘He’s not always here,’ she says defensively.
    ‘I’m not having
a go at you,’ I say. ‘You just need to be careful.’
    ‘I suppose. You
should go,’ she says, wrapping her sandwiches back up.  She’s hardly eaten
enough to feed an anorexic gnat.  No wonder she’s so skinny.
    ‘Meet me
tonight?’
    ‘Where?’
    I think about
the churchyard and whether Matt will be there again with Ingrid. ‘I’m not sure.
Where do you think?’
    She snaps the
lid back on her lunchbox. ‘How about back here?  
There’s a gap in the fence –’
    ‘I know where it
is.’
    ‘Oh, yeah, of course.   About eight?   After I’ve done Dad’s tea.’
    I think about
how many hours it is until eight o’clock . 
They seem to stretch out ahead forever. ‘Eight… ok.’
     
    Bethany
sees me waiting under the security light and runs up the field.  She
glances up at me as she ducks through the gap in the fence and I can see the
frown furrowing her brow even in the half-light.
    ‘I thought you
weren’t coming,’ I say.
    ‘Yeah, sorry.  I had trouble getting away.’
    ‘I’ve been
waiting ages.’
    ‘I said sorry.’
    I try to bite
back my annoyance.  ‘It’s ok.  I just thought you weren’t coming,
that’s all.’
    She doesn’t
reply and starts to walk in the direction of the benches beneath the windows of
the canteen. I get the sense that something she wants to say is stuck in her
throat.
    ‘Are you ok?’ I
ask as I follow her.
    She flops down
on a bench and hugs herself.  The frosted concrete glints diamond hard in
the stark security light. She must be cold in her crappy thin coat.
    ‘Dad gave me a
bit of a hard time,’ she says. ‘It’s nothing I can’t handle.’
    I sit next to
her, as close as I can. Then I remember that no matter