Unwritten scars

Chapter 5: A Memory Uninvited

I didn't expect a Tuesday afternoon lecture to be the thing that got me.

It wasn't even an interesting class. Intro Psych. I only picked it because Goody said it was "easy and kind of fun." So far, she was right.

The professor was talking about memory, which felt a little ironic, considering what happened next.

He was explaining how certain smells can bring back memories before you even realize what's happening.

I wasn't really paying attention. I was doodling in the corner of my notebook while Goody whispered something about the guy sitting two rows ahead of us.

Then someone opened a bag of food.

And I smelled cinnamon.

I froze. I don't even know why. It was just cinnamon.

Except suddenly it wasn't.

For a second, I wasn't in the lecture hall anymore. There was a door. I could hear it closing. A voice — I couldn't make out the words, but I knew it. Then that smell again. Cinnamon.

My stomach turned. My hands curled into fists on the desk before I even realized what I was doing.

The room felt strange. Too loud and too far away at the same time, like everyone was talking from somewhere I couldn't reach.

"Miley?"

Goody.

I blinked. The lecture hall slowly came back into focus. I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. I hadn't even noticed.

"Hey." Goody leaned a little closer. "You okay?"

"Yeah." My voice sounded weird. "Fine."

She looked at me. I knew she didn't believe me. But she didn't say anything. Not there. Not with everyone sitting around us.

She just watched me for another second before turning back toward the professor.

I tried to do the same. I couldn't.

For the rest of the lecture, I stared at my notebook without actually reading anything. That smell was still there. Or maybe it wasn't. I couldn't tell anymore.

When class ended, I got out as quickly as I could. I don't remember packing my things. One second I was sitting there, and the next I was outside.

The air felt better. Cooler.

I kept walking. I didn't have anywhere to go. I just wanted to get away from that building.

"Miley, wait."

Goody caught up with me. I slowed down but didn't stop.

"You want to talk about it?"

"No."

She was quiet for a second. "Okay."

I kept walking.

"Miley."

I stopped. I don't know why, maybe because I was tired. Tired of saying I was fine.

"I'm fine," I said.

Except my voice cracked halfway through it.

Goody didn't laugh. She didn't make a joke. She just looked at me.

"You don't have to talk about it," she said. "But I'm not going to act like I didn't see what happened."

I looked away. For a second, neither of us said anything.

Then I heard footsteps.

Goody looked past me. I turned.

Maverick was walking toward us, phone in his hand. He was smiling at first. Then he saw me, and the smile disappeared. He slowed, then stopped a few feet away, like he wasn't sure it was okay to get closer.

"Hey."

I didn't say anything.

His eyes moved from me to Goody and back again.

"What happened?"

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. I didn't know what to say. I didn't even know what had happened myself.

I just stood there, wishing I could somehow rewind the last hour and make that stupid bag of cinnamon disappear before I'd ever smelled it.

But it was too late.

Something had happened. And now Goody knew.

Maverick knew something was wrong too.

And for the first time since I'd gotten to college, I wasn't sure I could keep pretending everything was fine.