Echoes by Marissa Lete (best books for students to read txt) 📕

At school, Grace still won’t have anything to do with me. I watch her sitting at the lunch table with Andy or walking through the hallways holding his hand. She looks so happy, like she’s thriving without me, and I’m beginning to believe that I really was holding her back.

Then, on Friday night, an unexpected echo appears in my house while I’m reading a book downstairs. The front door opens, followed by the sounds of multiple feet walking into the kitchen.

“Welcome to my house. I’d offer to give you a tour, but it’s nothing compared to yours,” I hear my echo saying.

“At least it’s homey. My place feels like an empty castle,” Grace’s echo replies from the same direction. I turn my head, interested. I remember this day, the first time Grace had come over to my house. I’d been to her house once already to hang out, and I’d invited her to mine a few days later.

“Laura, is that you?” my mom’s echo calls out from her office.

“It is!” my own replies.

“How was your day? How did the—” Mom’s voice moves into the kitchen, then stops in the doorway. “Oh hello there! What’s your name?” I remember, now, being a tad annoyed by Mom’s enthusiasm at meeting Grace. She acted like Grace was the first friend I’d ever brought over to hang out. And I mean, she was, but I didn’t want it to seem like that.

“I’m Grace.”

“It’s so nice to meet you!” Mom exclaims. They’d shaken hands, I remember.

“Sorry I didn’t call. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if we hang out here tonight?” my echo says.

“Of course not! You’re welcome any time. Seriously,” Mom’s echo replies. I roll my eyes, picturing Mom’s giddy smile as she said the words. I remember the moment of this echo, and yet, I have no memory of any of the echoes of Maverick. If I can remember this small encounter with Grace and my Mom from a year ago, why can’t I remember him? Maybe the story I’d told the ice cream girl wasn’t far from the truth: maybe I do have amnesia. Me, my parents, and the workers at Louise’s. All at the same time.

“I appreciate it,” Grace’s echo says. She’d tested Mom’s offer many, many times since that day. For the past year, we’d hung out at my house every couple of days. I’ve been so focused on solving the Maverick dilemma that I haven’t noticed how strange the past few weeks have felt without her. A part of me wishes I could be friends with her again, that none of this crazy drama had ever happened.

The echo moves into the living room, and a wave of nostalgia comes over me as I listen, remembering the conversation like a weird, extended deja vu. We talked about our classes, about how much we hated our super-strict gym teacher Ms. Miller, and about the various books and TV shows we shared interest in. But then, something comes up that I don’t remember ever talking about.

“Who is it?” I hear Grace’s echo ask.

“Who’s what?” my echo replies.

“The person who keeps texting you! Who is it?” Grace asks again.

“I—it’s no one. Just a friend,” my echo replies.

“You mean to tell me that someone who’s ‘just a friend’ is texting you every ten seconds?”

“He’s not texting me every ten seconds,” my echo tells her.

“Oh, so it’s a he?”

“He is not important.”

“So that’s why you grin like a little kid with candy every time you see his name light up on your screen? Maverick? Did I read it correctly?” Grace asks mischievously.

“I do not.”

“You do. I want details, friend,” she replies, serious. I can picture her knowing smirk, the glint in her eye as she said the words. I know exactly how she would look at me while saying this, but only because I know her so well, not from my own memory.

“There are no details. We just… kinda went on a few dates, is all.”

“A few dates? Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend, Laura?”

“He’s not—”

“I need to see pictures of this mysterious man I knew nothing about,” Grace’s voice cuts off mine. I need to see pictures too. I hear my echo sigh, then a brief pause.

“Here.”

Grace’s echo gasps. “Oh, hello! Oh my gosh, he’s hot, Laura. Where did you even find him?”

“He lives across the street. He came by the night we moved here, and then we kept running into each other.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” my echo replies. “What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?”

Grace’s echo sighs, then launches into full-on story mode, telling every last detail about Andy and their complicated history. I remember this part of the conversation, where I first learned that Grace and Andy had been together, but had broken up a few weeks prior. But I don’t remember the part about Maverick, as usual. It’s as if the entire night still happened the same way in both my memory and the echo, but everything involving Maverick is just gone.

I sigh, knowing that there’s nothing I can do about it. I decide that the next time I talk to Grace, if I ever do, I’ll have to ask her if she knows anything about Maverick, though I have a hunch that she won’t.

Later that night, as I’m finally getting ready to go to bed, my phone rings unexpectedly, startling me. I reach for it and to my surprise, Grace’s name is displayed across the screen. I stare at it for a minute, confused. It’s close to midnight, which seems like a strange time for Grace to be calling.

I take a deep breath and pick up the phone. “Hello?” I say tentatively, part of me hoping it’s just an accidental call and the other part hoping she actually wants to