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

since my parents, and that took a long time to get them to understand. It might not make any sense to him, but I’m not sure what else to do. There are so many clues pointing to the fact that we were once a big part of each other’s lives, a really big part, and it doesn’t make sense that he simply disappeared. That I just forgot about him.

Maverick doesn’t look away from me, not for a second. He doesn’t even blink.

“Echoes. Of the past,” I continue. I close my eyes. “Wherever I am, I can hear all of the sounds made in that same spot, at that exact time during previous years.”

When I open my eyes, Maverick is still staring, but his expression softens.

I go on, the words flowing like water. “It sounds crazy, I know, but it’s something I’ve always dealt with. I can hear the past. Every conversation, door opening, footstep—any noise at all. I hear it, always.” I’m shaking as I speak. “I don’t know why, but I can’t remember you. At all. But I’ve heard you in the past. I heard you come to my house and drop off flowers when my family first moved in. I heard you ask me out. I heard us talking late in the night in my backyard. I heard you come to my house for dinner on Halloween.” I take several gulps of air, then finish with two words: “Last year.”

Maverick opens his mouth, the expression I’d seen forming earlier solidifying into what looks like realization. But then it darkens into something else, like he’s angry and sad and disgusted all at the same time. I know I should stop, but I can’t.

“I heard all of that, but I don’t remember any of it. I didn’t even recognize you when I first saw you, but when you spoke, I knew your voice. I don’t know how it’s possible, I don’t know if I’m just going crazy, or have amnesia or what. But I need to know, I need you to tell me who you are. If it’s all true.” I’m borderline hysterical now.

Maverick puts his head down, chin touching his chest. He opens and closes his mouth once, then twice, but no words come out. Then he looks up, one single word escaping his lips. “Yes.”

I wait.

“Yes,” he says again, his eyes darting to the place where the picture sits on the mantle. “What you heard did happen. There’s so much more than you know.” He closes his eyes.

“Tell me,” I plead.

He shakes his head, his gaze dropping again. “I’m so, so sorry. This is all my fault,” his words hit me like two hands around my throat.

“Why? What do you mean?”

He’s frozen in place, and now he won’t meet my eyes. “I have an… ability, like you.” The hands tighten, stopping my breath.

“To do what?”

He finally looks at me, and his next words squeeze the last bit of life out of me.

“I can take away memories.”

Chapter 22

The world starts to spin around me, tilting, teetering until I’m falling. Maverick crosses the room in three quick strides, bracing me as I slump to the ground. My vision goes black, and my heart pumps double-time. When I open my eyes again, I’m looking at Maverick’s face through a million stars. His hand presses against my forehead for a second, then he shines a light into my eyes.

“Laura, can you hear me?”

I squint, turning my pounding head away. “Yeah,” I choke out.

“Listen, I think you’re dehydrated. And you probably need food. Let’s go eat something.”

My stomach rumbles as if on cue. “Okay.” The stars flooding my vision are still clearing. When Maverick pulls me to my feet, I’m shaking. Whether from dehydration or shock, I’m unsure. He pulls my arm across his neck, supporting me as I walk.

My thoughts are spinning so fast I can’t keep up. Over and over, all I can focus on are the words, I can take away memories.

It takes us a long time to get to the dining room—since the house is about ten times the size of my own—and the entire walk I try to formulate words. As Maverick helps me sit down at a long, elegant dining table, I finally find them.

“You took my memories away?” It’s more of a statement than a question, but I still pause, holding on to a sliver of hope that it's not true and that Maverick will deny it.

He doesn’t.

“Why?” The word comes out barely above a whisper.

Maverick doesn’t meet my eyes, he simply reaches across the table to grab a pitcher, pours water into a glass, puts it in my hand, and says, “Drink.”

I lift the glass to my mouth, gulping the water down as I think. Why would he take my memories away? Did it have to do with Alice? Did I know about something I shouldn’t have? Did Maverick decide he didn’t want to be with me anymore and erase himself from my life to avoid confrontation?

I feel a stab of pain when I think of the last scenario. It catches me off guard; I don’t remember him anyway, so why should I care?

It strikes me, too, that to any normal person, someone telling you they could take memories away sounds pretty far-fetched. But with my own strange ability and the pile of evidence I’d already witnessed, I hadn’t even given it a second thought.

A woman in an apron enters the room as I put down my water, carrying a steaming plate in each hand. She sets one down in front of each of us, smiling. “Enjoy,” she tells us before walking back through the door.

I look down at my plate: breakfast for dinner. My favorite. Two pancakes covered in only butter, a slice of bacon drenched in syrup,