Chapter 12
Idon’t know what to do. Do I tell Dash? Hendrix? My parents? The police?
Logically, I know I should. But I feel like I should know who this is. It doesn’t seem like Lennon and London had secrets, so surely London would know about this. Meaning no matter which twin I am, I must’ve known what was going on.
It’s more crucial for me to remember now than ever.
I see a closed door off the kitchen and open it to find a mudroom.
There’s a set of keys hanging on the wall beside yet another closed door.
I swipe them from their spot on the wall and study the cool metal.
They’re attached to a purple heart keychain with a cursive L in the center.
My heart races as I realize I’ve remembered something. I open the door and find the shiny black twenty-year-old GTO parked in the garage just waiting to be driven. I open the driver’s door and ease into the seat. I put my cane in the passenger seat and close the door.
I slide the key into the ignition but don’t turn it over yet.
I glance around the interior, and I remember the hum of the road beneath the tires.
I close my eyes and hear laughter somewhere in the recesses of my memory.
I remember the black ice air freshener. It was my favorite, and it clings to the car like a ghost. I feel the steering wheel under my fingertips and open my eyes.
Above me on the visor is a garage opener and a picture of a much younger us. In this moment, I feel more like Lennon than London, but just because I have memories of this car doesn’t mean I’m not still London. She seemed to know more about cars than everyone else assumed.
Lennon may have taught her more than they thought. Just like it seems London taught Lennon about being in the kitchen based on how similar hers is to the one here in Lennon’s house.
We obviously share everything. Shared, I correct in my head and my heart squeezes.
“We’re going for a drive,” I say out loud as if the car can hear me.
I don’t have my purse or ID, but I don’t know which driver’s license mine is anyway. It’s not like I plan to do anything wild. I’ll be careful. I pat my pocket and realize my cell phone is still on the floor at the bottom of the stairs.
In my rush to check the downstairs, I forgot to pick it back up. I’m not going back in for it now. I won’t be gone long, just going for a quick drive. This car has been the first thing to make me feel like I’m close to remembering.
I whisper to myself, “Mirror, Mirror. My heart to remember.”
I hit the button to open the garage door and then start the GTO. It roars to life, and I feel the adrenaline flow through my veins. I press in the clutch as my hip protests the movement, but I don’t care.
Hendrix would shit a brick if he knew I was driving. Any of my doctors would, I’m sure. But there are some forms of healing and therapy doctors can’t prescribe, nor can they understand. This is part of mine. Sometimes, you just have to trust your heart to know what’s true.
I take in one more deep breath as my right hand finds the gear shift and my left hand finds its place on the steering wheel while my shoulder is screaming against the movement just like my hip does.
I shift into first and ease off the clutch as the car rolls forward. Once I’m in the driveway, I stop and make sure the garage closes back before I pull onto the street.
It’s a cool afternoon, but I open the sunroof and let the wind blow through my hair. I can almost smell the rain in the air confirming what the thunder was saying moments earlier. There’s no storm yet, but it’s on the horizon.
I turn on the radio and a CD is playing. I recognize it as a mixed CD from our teenage years. I smile even as my chin quivers. I’m feeling nostalgic for a time which doesn’t exist anymore, a sister who’s gone from this world forever, and a part of myself I’ve lost. A time where all was right.
I think the reason I recognize myself in both London and Lennon is because we are essentially the same person in many ways and shared everything, even our differences. So, it’s hard to separate what I know because it was both shared with me and what I’ve lived myself.
Amnesia is a cruel condition. Almost as cruel as Alzheimer’s. But at least with amnesia I have a chance to get my memories back and to make new ones.
And driving this car, I feel like I’m close. I can almost reach out and touch them.
After I’ve driven around the neighborhood, I decide to keep going. I shift through the gears despite the pain screaming on the left side of my body. It’s time to see what this car can do. Maybe it’s time to see what I can do too. I get on the interstate and let her roll.
I feel free on this highway, and considering the last month, I’d love to keep going without ever looking back.
But I have nothing with me. I’ve got to turn around, not just for me, but for my sister and the people who love us most. And for justice.
Someone killed her and, it would seem, still wants to kill me.
As I exit the interstate, I find myself driving by Tyler Motorsports.
I noticed what looked like a practice track behind the garage when Dash and I were there before.
The sun is getting ready to set but there’s still plenty of light and no rain yet.
Without further analyzing my decision, I turn into the parking lot and see a few trucks and cars parked out front, but the gates leading behind the garage to where I assume the entrance to the track would be, are open.
“Don’t let me down,” I say out loud. I’m not sure if I’m telling the car or myself.
But I find my way to the track and it’s clear of anyone or anything else.
I drive to the entrance of the track, shifting into a lower gear to slow down and study it for a moment before saying to hell with it.
Let’s see what I can do. If I were Lennon, I should be able to do this—sort of like muscle memory or riding a bike. Right?
I rev the engine and press down the clutch before shifting gears again. I see smoke in my wake where I burned rubber and I’m unsure of myself. But the faster my speed climbs, the more it feels right.
I round the first turn and notice people from the garage have spotted me and come out to see what’s happening. I feel the adrenaline surge again as I maneuver around this track. Sweat beads on my brow and my upper lip as pain explodes through my left shoulder and hip.
My head starts to throb above my left eye on the third lap, and it starts to affect my vision, so I’m forced to slow down and exit the track.
When I do, I see several people gathered to watch as I spot my dad front and center looking ashen as if he’s watching a ghost. Then, I see Dash not far behind him holding something that looks like a phone.
I get out of the car and leave the cane inside. Dad seems surprised to see me walking without help, but not any less upset.
“What the hell are you doing, London?” Dad asks as everyone else besides Dash disappears to give us privacy.
I glance at Dash, and he looks almost as angry as Dad. Almost.
“I remembered the GTO,” is all I can manage to say.
Dash doesn’t give much away but I see his eyes widen the slightest bit in surprise. He’s staring at me like he wants to yell at me and hug me all at once.
“How did you get the keys?” Dad prods.
I glance back to Dash which has Dad spinning around to face him.
“You took London to Lennon’s house? And then what? You just let her drive away? She shouldn’t be driving at all right now! She’s still healing! She’s in physical therapy for crying out loud! Are you trying to get my other daughter killed too?” he shouts.
Dash has had enough, and he steps into my dad’s space and shoves him. Dad stumbles back a bit but not much.
“I love Lennon! I’ve loved her for years! I’d never do anything to hurt her or get her killed, not that you’d notice! How dare you accuse me of that!” Dash shouts back.
Dad shoves him this time. “You’re the reason she crashed in the illegal race that nearly ruined her racing career!
She always did what you dared her to! I know she was sneaking around behind my back to see you!
Some of the guys from our teams saw you at the bowling alley the night she was killed!
So, yes, you’re the reason we buried my little girl three days ago! ”
I crash into my dad and hug him. He has tears streaming down his face. I cling to him as his whole body shakes with barely contained sobs. He holds me close and says in my ear, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you both.”
“It’s not your fault,” I say as I pull back.
He wipes his eyes but doesn’t say anything else.
“It’s not Dash’s fault either. I saw the video of the wreck, Dad. Why didn’t you tell me it was intentional, and they never caught the guy? I’ve been in danger for almost a month now. I can’t defend myself if I don’t know to be watching my back.”
Dad’s brows furrow. “We thought the driver was after Lennon. We never thought you were in danger, London. Trust me, we would’ve told you if we thought you were. And I’d never have let you go back to your apartment either. Why do you think you could be?”
I glance back at Dash. “I need to know something, Dad.”
“Okay,” he says.
“Where are our effects from the accident?”
“At our house. Why?”
“Was either of our necklaces with our stuff? Or our phones?” I ask.
Dad looks like he’s in deep thought. “I know neither phone was, but we assumed they were with the car at the police garage or even ejected and lost at the crash site. But now that you mention it, neither of your necklaces were returned to us.”
I swallow hard because I know why they aren’t with our effects.
Lennon’s stalker has them. The text said he knows who I really am, meaning after the accident he caused, he had to have gotten into the car with us long enough to take them off our bodies to hide our identities.
I feel violated in a different way, and I start to sway as my head pounds worse. Dad pulls me up against him.
Dash moves back into my line of vision. “What is it, Valkyrie?”
Dad turns his confused glare at him. “What did you call her?”
“Dad…” I trail off not sure if this is the right time to tell him there’s a chance, albeit small, I might be Lennon instead of London.
“You still think she’s Lennon, don’t you?” Dad finally asks staring Dash down with a menacing expression. His eyes are wide, and nostrils flared.
“Don’t you think I’d know who my own daughter is?”
“Would you? They’ve been pretending to be one another for years when they needed to cover for the other,” Dash informs him.
Dad’s skin looks ashen again at the thought as he turns his troubled gaze back to me.
Dash continues and points to the GTO. “You saw what I just saw. Could London drive like that?”
Dad shakes his head and releases me. “No. I…I don’t know.”
He covers his mouth as he studies me, considering the possibility.
Dash turns his attention to me and hands me my phone, meaning he had to go to Lennon’s house and couldn’t find me there. I can only imagine the things he wants to say to me right now. “I’m so angry at you, Valkyrie. But tell us, what did you remember?”
“I remembered driving the GTO. Would London drive it? Or was it only Lennon?” I ask them.
“Honey, I’m sure Lennon would’ve let you…London drive. She tried to teach you to drive a manual transmission for years but you, London, would make a stick shift jump and grind the gears. It wasn’t smooth like what you just did on this track.”
He shakes his head and continues, “But now I’m not sure of anything. Maybe London just pretended to be bad at driving one as part of y’all covering for each other like you said.”
I want to say more, but for now, the notes and threats I found will have to wait. As for what happened at Lennon’s house before I ended up here, I’ll tell Dash once we go back there.
“Dad, don’t upset Mom with this. Not until we know…who I am and what’s going on. Just be careful. I need to get the GTO back to the house.”
He hugs me and points at Dash. “You better protect her with your life. Do you understand me? If you can’t, I’m your first call.”
Dash stares at me. “I swear on the breath in my lungs, sir.”
I walk back to the GTO, get in, and start it back up.
I drive back around front and find Dash climbing into his truck instead of the car we were in earlier.
I stop beside him and our gazes lock. I rev the engine just a little, and the corner of his lips lift into a barely noticeable smirk before he starts his engine and revs it to match mine.
He winks and waits on me to leave first.
I know I’ll have to tell him about the text and the notes I discovered, because I know I can’t solve this alone. Each of us seem to be carrying a different piece of this puzzle surrounding me and my sister.
Even as this mysterious danger lurks out of sight, but close by, I feel safe knowing Dash has my back.
But I also feel some guilt and confusion, because the more I’m near him, the more it becomes very clear that I’m in love with him.
And accepting my feelings means one of two difficult truths.
It proves I’m Lennon and I feel this strongly because I already loved him, and my heart remembers what my mind can’t.
But if I’m London instead, I’ve fallen for my sister’s boyfriend.
Honestly, either scenario is painful to consider, and both seem unforgivable in their own way.