I try to think back before I woke up in this hospital bed, but it’s all blank like a fresh chalkboard. There’s nothing. It’s an endless dark tunnel with no light at the end. But I know words and the names ofthings. Like the stethoscope around the doctor’s neck. I know what a car is and what an accident is and what a hospital is and what a friend is. But I have no memories attached to anything I know. I swallow hard. I feel like a brand-new computer being powered on for the first time. The knowledge is there, but there’s no context.

“No, I don’t remember it.”

“What about anything earlier that day?” Robbie asks.

I shake my head.

Maya leans forward in her chair. “Do you remember the ending ofThe Sixth Sense?”

I squint. “No. What is that?”

“Only one of the greatest films of our generation.” She lifts her chin. “Ugh. You’re so lucky.”

“Maya!” Robbie chides.

“What? What I wouldn’t give to be able to watch that movie for the first time again.” Maya cracks a grin.

“You’d give up all your memories?”

“Maybe.” She shrugs. “It’s a really good movie.”

I think she’s being a little insensitive to my situation, but now I really want to watch it.

Dr.Hersh clears his throat, making Robbie and Maya drop their bickering immediately. We give the doctor our full attention.

“Can you tell me what the capital of Illinois is?” he asks.

Maya shakes her head.

“Springfield,” I say.

“She knows that but doesn’t remember my name?” Maya rolls her eyes, while Robbie shushes her.

“Can you tell me how many planets there are?”

“Nine, if you count Pluto,” I say. “But I don’t think they count it anymore, so eight.”

The doctor nods. “Good.” He looks down at his chart again, pausing for a moment before lifting his head. “When you were broughtin, we ran an MRI scan to examine for internal injuries. We found no broken bones, internal bleeding, torn ligaments, et cetera ... so, that’s the good news. We also performed a brain CT scan and found a small structural lesion on the prefrontal cortex.”

“Oh, great, luckily only your brain took the brunt of the accident.” Maya’s words drip with sarcasm.

The doctor gives her a disappointed look. “Now, lesions do heal on their own,” he says. “But it takes time. The location of the lesion has affected your memory, resulting in retrograde amnesia.”

Maya squints. “What does that all mean?”

“It means Peyton has lost her memories prior to the accident, but it’s hard to tell how far that memory loss goes back. It could be days, months, even decades. Since you’re also unable to remember personal information, it leads me to believe that dissociative amnesia, which is very rare, is also occurring. How long have you all been friends?”

Maya speaks first. “Since freshman year of college, so fall 2009.”

“Yeah, around the same time,” Robbie says.

I nod but I really don’t know whether that’s correct. I glance over at Maya, wondering how she and I met in college. Did we have the same class? Were we roommates? Maybe we worked together on campus. I don’t know what campus that is, though. I close my eyes tight, hoping I’ll be able to find the memories in the dark, behind my lids, or floating somewhere around my brain. But they’re not there. When I open them, I look to Robbie. He said we met around the same time too. Probably college as well. It must have been because it seems Maya, Robbie, and I are equally close.

“Is there anything you can remember since 2010, Peyton?”

I move my mouth side to side and shake my head.

“And nothing before then?” he asks.