Page 41 of One Wrong Move

I slow the car to a stop at a red light next to Kensington Gardens, and the silence in the car feels thick with tension.

We both know that I’d seen it.

And what it means.

“It belongs in the box,” I say. My words don’t ease the strain enveloping us. If anything, it makes it worse, but the words had slipped out regardless. They sounded harsher than they should have.

Because it says something about Dean, too.

“How does it work, having a photographic memory?” Harper’s voice comes out a bit higher than usual. When I glance over, her cheeks are pink.

I wonder if they go that shade when she comes? What does she sound like? How does she look? Would her curls be wild around her face and her mouth half-open?

My hand tightens around the leather. “I can recall images in great clarity.”

She chuckles. “Yes, well, I think that’s the gist of it. But have you always had it? When did you realize it was something you could do that others couldn’t? And was school a breeze?”

Amusement tugs on my lips. “Didn’t know you were so interested in getting to know me better, Harp.”

“Come on. This is super cool. I’ve never met anyone with a photographic memory.”

“It’s not very common. It’s not even very well-studied.” I tap my fingers against the steering wheel again and glance at her out of the corner of my eye. “For me, it’s visual. For some reason, I can effortlessly, and very vividly, recall details from memory.”

“How was school for you?”

I chuckle. “Studying for tests was pretty easy, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She’s angled toward me in the car, her lips stretched into a smile. “And when did you realize? How did you figure it out? I mean, you must have assumed everyone could do it.”

“Yeah. I thought it was normal.” The road ahead curves, and I move the car into the left lane. We’re almost there. “I realized it when I was nine.”

“That’s pretty young.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“How’d you figure it out?”

The image flashes in my mind, even after all this time. The five bottles of pills Alec and I saw on Mom’s vanity before she came in and ushered us out. The labels with miniature text warnings that looked like essays.

Realizing I could remember the names of each one when my brother couldn’t.

He made me write them down for him. The next day, after school, he went to the pharmacy to ask what they were. And that’s how we realized Mom was sick.

She passed away shortly after.

I turn the car into the parking lot. “My brother and I were playing around, and I realized I could remember more than he could.”

Harper’s voice is soft. “Oh. Was he jealous?”

“He’s not the jealous type,” I say. At least not of me. He’s too ambitious, too perfect, and too disciplined for that.

Pulling into a spot, I turn off the engine, and cautious silence settles in the car. For a moment I wonder if I should tell her the real answer. The pill bottles. The death sentence.

But I don’t want to detract from this moment. One week, I think again, and half of it has already passed.

“Is this… oh my God. We’re trying archery?” Harper’s voice is cheery with surprise. “That’s why I needed to dress like we’re hitting the track?”

“Yes.”

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