Twist by Roni Teson Page A

she’s teaching me how to articulate makes me want to . . . do things I shouldn’t be thinking about with a teacher.
    She’s only in her twenties. If I were a few years older, the age difference wouldn’t matter.
    â€œHello, Louie? Are you in there?” She’s watching me, waiting for eye contact.
    â€œAbby, if it were another time, I’d . . .”
    She ignores me and hands me the syllable cards. “Let’s plow through this deck and then you can read the ultimate tongue-twister sheet, real fast.”
    I get through the syllables and then we laugh as we both read the twisters and try to do a few at the same time. When we finish, Abby hands me a card and hugs me, and my head starts twirling again.
    In my mind, I’m spinning her and it’s only natural that I follow that with a kiss. My stomach is flip-flopping, so I grab her cheeks and plant a wet one on her—and for a split second she responds. But then she shoves me away.
    â€œWhat was that?” she says.
    â€œI . . . I don’t know. We were connected . . . I saw lockers. I thought I was at school,” I say as I stumble. I put my hands on my legs and bend over and a vision fills my head—a girl my age who makes my heart pound.
    â€œLou?” Abby says, and I feel her hand on my back.
    I lift my upper torso, too fast, so I wait a few seconds for the dizziness to end. “I’m sorry.”
    She stares at me.
    â€œIt really did happen like that with someone . . . I’m sure it was that girl, B,” I say. “I gotta go, I’m sure my dad’s waiting.”
    â€œTake care, Louie,” she says as she guides me to the parking lot. “You’ll remember everything, soon. I can tell.”
    Dad waves to Abby, and when I get in the car he says, “How’d it go?”
    â€œI’m going to miss her,” I say.
    â€œShe’s a sweetheart,” Dad says. “What’s the strange look on your face about?”
    I shake my head. I don’t want to get his hopes up. I just want to be alone. He starts the car and we drive home in silence.

Chapter 19
    I carry my books in Luke’s backpack. Dad walks me to the office, stealing glances of my face along the way. I know he’s waiting for me to remember. I act like I don’t notice him as we shuffle through a sea of bodies.
    â€œLuke!” A guy yells, and slams into me. “You’re back.”
    I look at Dad, who responds by saying, “That’s Simon.”
    â€œI don’t remember,” I say to Simon, as I continue walking.
    â€œI’ll catch you up,” Simon says, trailing behind me.
    I don’t like the look of this guy. Dark curly hair, shifty eyes, and he is pushy. “Call me Lou,” I say. We stop in front of the office.
    â€œThat’s cool, Lou,” he responds, and then he just stares at me.
    I sigh. “Okay, catch me up.”
    He looks around and says, “Not here, first bell’s about to ring. See you in second period. And lunch, the oak tree, remember?” Then Simon takes off.
    I don’t know where the flippin’ oak tree is.
    Whatever
.
    Dad pushes the door open and we wait for the counselor. The office seems strangely familiar, but that might be because it’s just like all the other waiting rooms I’ve waited in over the past three months.
    Finally, a man approaches. “Hello, Lou. I’m Henry Sars, your counselor. Come on back, I have a map and a list of your classes.”
    Dad and I move in sync. As if it’s a daily event—the angry amnesiac son and his faithful father traipsing along behind a counselor, finding our way.
    â€œWhere’s the oak tree?” I ask, just in case I want to meet Simon.
    â€œRight there,” he says as we enter his office and I see this massive tree outside of his window.
    â€œOh.”
    Dad smiles. I know he’s been talking to Henry because the guy keeps calling me Lou. But