Remember Me Gone
(Sprache: Englisch)
Lucy Miller s family has the unique ability to remove people s painful memories but Lucy isn t prepared for truths she will uncover in this twisty speculative thriller, perfect for fans of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Neal...
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Lucy Miller s family has the unique ability to remove people s painful memories but Lucy isn t prepared for truths she will uncover in this twisty speculative thriller, perfect for fans of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Neal Shusterman.People come from everywhere to forget. At the Memory House, in Tumble Tree, Texas, Lucy s father can literally erase folks heartache and tragic memories. Lucy can t wait to learn the family trade and help alleviate others pain, and now, at sixteen, she finally can. But everything is not as it seems.
When Lucy practices memory-taking on her dad, his memory won t come loose, and in the bit that Lucy sees, there s a flash of Mama on the day she died, tinged red with guilt. Then Lucy wakes up the next morning with a bruised knee, a pocketful of desert sand, and no memory of what happened. She has no choice but to listen to Marco Warman a local boy she s always wondered about, who seems to know more than he should.
As Lucy and Marco realize there are gaps in their own memories, they team up to fill in the missing pieces to figure out what s really going on in their town, and to uncover their own stolen history along the way. But as the mysteries pile up one thing becomes certain: There are some secrets people will do anything to keep.
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You have to be quiet. The voice is a hiss in my ear.
Every bone in my body tells me to do just the opposite, but my throat feels like I swallowed half the desert. The hand covering my mouth tastes like salt, which only makes it worse.
I m not going to hurt you.
The grip on me is light too light for someone trying to hold me against my will. All I need to do is give a small shove and I could make a run for it. There s someone in the trailer and the walls are like paper. If I take my hand away, do you promise to be quiet?
An elbow to the ribs would do it for sure. But there s something about the timbre of that voice.
I know that voice.
So I nod once. The hand slips from my mouth. I tamp down my instinct to run screaming into the night and turn to face him.
Marco Warman.
He looks at me from underneath the brim of a dark low-slung hat, his face flat and unreadable. His cheeks are smeared with smudges of camouflage, making his eyes and teeth gleam white against the night sky. He looks like he wants to blend into the desert, not like he wants his uncle or the men with the guns to know he s out here.
He presses a finger against his lips and points to the trailer about ten yards behind us, like I might not have gotten the message the first time. I narrow my eyes at him. What s he doing here? How do I know he s not a lookout for his uncle?
If I make a run for it, it would get the attention of the armed men down by the mines. If I don t run, the mayor s nephew might . . . what? Kidnap me? Turn me in to the mayor so I end up facing the men with guns anyway?
But my dad is down there. I may not know what s going on, but I know he d never let anything bad happen to me. He d never let anything bad happen to anyone. This whole thing has to be a big misunderstanding.
Marco s eyes are wide and pleading as they flick back and forth between me and
... mehr
the opening to the mines, like he can tell there s a scream on the tip of my tongue. Then they open even wider and he grabs my arm and tugs.
I manage to wrestle free from his grip. What do you think you re doing? I whisper.
He motions silently toward the line of people. The man my father just finished unburdening is walking toward the parking lot, looking like he doesn t yet have his wits about him. And he s headed straight for us.
I freeze, looking for a viable place to hide that isn t in the direction Marco went in case this is all a big setup somehow, but there s nowhere else that doesn t place me in plain view of the man marching toward us.
Lucy! Marco hisses, eyebrows arching expectantly, as if following him is the obvious choice and he isn t dressed like a kidnapper. But he s right this is my only option.
I take a deep breath, then crouch-crawl toward the cluster of plants Marco s hiding behind. I have to press in close to make myself fit and keep both of us hidden. My arm heats when it connects with his.
A few seconds later the slack-jawed man stomps straight through the place I d been hiding a moment before. His foot makes contact with the flashlight I dropped earlier and it scuttles across the dirt, disappearing into the darkness. The man doesn t so much as flinch; he continues forward at an unwavering pace.
There s something about the way he moves. It s . . . odd. When people leave the Memory House without their burdens they look light as clouds, like there s barely enough gravity to tether them to Earth. But this man is moving like he s got boulders strapped to his back.
I hold ramrod still, straining my eyes to see as he crosses the parking lot, climbs inside
I manage to wrestle free from his grip. What do you think you re doing? I whisper.
He motions silently toward the line of people. The man my father just finished unburdening is walking toward the parking lot, looking like he doesn t yet have his wits about him. And he s headed straight for us.
I freeze, looking for a viable place to hide that isn t in the direction Marco went in case this is all a big setup somehow, but there s nowhere else that doesn t place me in plain view of the man marching toward us.
Lucy! Marco hisses, eyebrows arching expectantly, as if following him is the obvious choice and he isn t dressed like a kidnapper. But he s right this is my only option.
I take a deep breath, then crouch-crawl toward the cluster of plants Marco s hiding behind. I have to press in close to make myself fit and keep both of us hidden. My arm heats when it connects with his.
A few seconds later the slack-jawed man stomps straight through the place I d been hiding a moment before. His foot makes contact with the flashlight I dropped earlier and it scuttles across the dirt, disappearing into the darkness. The man doesn t so much as flinch; he continues forward at an unwavering pace.
There s something about the way he moves. It s . . . odd. When people leave the Memory House without their burdens they look light as clouds, like there s barely enough gravity to tether them to Earth. But this man is moving like he s got boulders strapped to his back.
I hold ramrod still, straining my eyes to see as he crosses the parking lot, climbs inside
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Stacy Stokes
Stacy Stokes (stacystokes.com) is a lifelong lover of stories, a former improv comedy geek, and a marketing professional by trade. She graduated with a degree in marketing from the University of Texas at Austin and holds a master s degree in business from the Wharton School. Stacy lives with her family in the Bay Area. Follow her on Twitter @stacyastokes.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Stacy Stokes
- Altersempfehlung: Ab 12 Jahre
- 2022, Internationale Ausgabe, 368 Seiten, Masse: 14 x 20,5 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Penguin Random House
- ISBN-10: 0593524160
- ISBN-13: 9780593524169
- Erscheinungsdatum: 04.05.2022
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
"A fun and page-turning...thriller."--Kirkus Reviews"This YA thriller is an excellent introduction to speculative fiction. Stokes breaks down complex emotions, such as grief and guilt, and makes them accessible...Avid readers may find themselves staying up late to finish the story."--School Library Journal
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