I'm glad when Allys turns the conversation from Dane to her. "My reasons for coming to this school aren't so mysterious," she says. "A large campus just doesn't work for me anymore, and a flexible schedule makes therapy easier to work in. At an academy I would always be missing school. That's one of the reasons I'm here." Allys picks up her sandwich and resumes eating. "Plus, I like the course study better. Especially after all rhis" — she gestures with all four limbs. "I have a particular interest in bioethics, and Rae lets me explore that. Why'd you want to come here, Jenna?"

"I didn't exactly want to. My mother chose it. I've been sick and ..." I don't know how to finish. I still have a lightheaded aversion to saying the word accident. Has Mother drilled it into me that deep not to speak about it? Or is there some other reason? But I don't want to lie.

"Accident," I say much too loudly. "I had an accident. And I'm still recovering."

They all stare at me. My words have come out in halting spurts. Lovely, Jenna.

"You don't have to tell us — "

"And the worst part of it is, I've forgotten everything. I don't remember my parents, my friends, which things I love, and which things I hate. I can't even remember which side I parted my hair on — or maybe it was down the middle? And look at this," I say, pointing at my legs, "I obviously can't even remember how to walk!"

"It's okay — "

"It's all a blank. My life, my parents, my friends. I'm not sure I should even be here. I can't remember anything that matters," I say in a desperate breathless finish, feeling like I have confessed a sin and I need forgiveness. Their forgiveness. Three friends. Are they friends?

Ethan's eyes, at that moment, are the kindest, deepest, safest brown I am sure I will ever know. I wait for him to absolve me of not remembering a mother who birthed me, a grandmother who saved me, friends who rebelled with me, and a suffocating fear I can't name.

"Jenna," he says. His voice is as soft as a sparrow's beating wing, and I can almost feel the gentle flutter across my cheek. "Thou speakest the loveliest . . . load of crap." He leans close and whispers, "A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener. So our prospects brighten ..."

He waits expectantly. I lean in closer.

He watches my lips, and I let my words trickle out as softly as his. ". . . on the influx of better thoughts. We should be blessed if we lived in the present always, and took advantage of every accident that befell us. ..."

Ethan downs the rest of his milk. "Two points made."

"Three," I say.

He raises his eyebrows.

"You're far more versed in Walden than you let on," I say.

And not a dickhead at all, I think to myself.

Pieces

Isn't that what all of life is anyway?

Shards. Bits. Moments.

Am I less because I have fewer, or do the few I have mean more?

Am I just as full as anyone else? Enough?

Pieces.

Allys saying "I like you."

Gabriel snorting out bread, freeing me to laugh.

And Ethan reminding me how much I do know.

Pieces.

I hold them like they are life itself.

They nearly are.

Fine Tuning

"Don't forget, I'm coming home with Ethan," I call out to the kitchen. "So don't pick me up."

I walk down the hallway, turn around, and walk back again, watching myself in the full-length mirror. I lift my feet carefully, but it seems overdone. Maybe it's my arms? Do they swing properly? I go back to the end of the hallway and try again.

Claire calls back, not to me but to Lily, loud so I can hear, "Did you hear that, Mom? Jenna's coming home with Ethan. Sounds almost like a date."

I smile. The last few days, Mother has been so cheerful, almost giddy that school has gone well. Perhaps she sees my life — and hers— coming back to us.

I stare at the mirror. I think it's my knees. I walk slowly, willing them into smooth movements. Better. I go to the kitchen. "It's not a date, Mother. I'm just working at the Mission with Ethan until I find my own community project."

Mother tilts her head and rolls her eyes. "Oh. Sure. A community project. I've seen Ethan the last two days when I picked you up. He's — "

"Claire!" Lily yells. "What's gotten into you? Do you really think it's wise to encourage this? Dating? Think it through!"

I glare at Lily. Mother and I are finally having something that resembles a conversation and she has to put a stop to it. Why does she have to be so annoying? So small-minded? So —

"Don't be such a dickhead, Lily!" I tell her.

Mother's jaw drops and she seems to forget what she was going to say.

Lily is silent for a moment and then bends over the counter.

Laughing? Is she laughing?

I'm afraid I will never understand either one of them.

Jenna Fox / Year Fourteen

Since Lily isn't driving me to the mission until ten o'clock, I continue to fill the morning with the task of walking. I was hoping to have it figured out before I saw Ethan again. I practice in front of the mirror. I move slow. I move fast. I sway my hips, my hands, my chin. I glide, but it is all still off. I see that now. Am I trying too hard?

I decide to watch the videos. Maybe I'll learn something. Isn't that what Mother says? That it might trigger something? Maybe it will trigger something in my legs and arms so I walk like everyone else. I want to be like everyone else. I saw how Dane looked at me, before he saw me clod my way across the classroom. I liked the way his eyes were fixed on me. Close. Personal. So slow it almost felt like he was sliding his hands over me. It makes me feel different. Familiar. Maybe like the old Jenna.