Brain Child

“Who lives in the blue house on Carmel Street?”

“The Jamesons.”

“What about the old house at the corner of Monterey?”

“Miss Thorpe,” Alex replied. Then he added, “She used to be a witch.”

Lisa glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, wondering if he was teasing her, even though she knew he wasn’t. Since he’d come home, Alex never teased anybody. “She wasn’t really a witch,” she said. “We just always thought she was when we were little.”

Alex stopped walking. “If she wasn’t one, why did we think she was?”

Lisa wondered what to tell him. He seemed to have forgotten everything about his childhood, including what it had been like to be a child. How could she explain to him how much fun it used to be to scare themselves half to death with speculations on what old Miss Thorpe might be doing behind her heavily curtained windows, or what she might do to them if she ever caught them in her yard? For Alex never seemed to imagine anything anymore. He always wanted to know what things were, and who was who, but it didn’t seem to matter to him, and he didn’t seem, really, to care. In fact, though she’d told no one of her feelings, Lisa was glad that school was finally starting and she could legitimately spend less time with Alex.

“I don’t know,” she said at last. “We just thought she was a witch, that’s all. Now, come on, or we’ll be late.”

Alex moved uncertainly around the campus of La Paloma High School. Deep in the recesses of his mind, he had a faint feeling of having been here before, but nothing seemed to be quite right.

The school was built around a quadrangle, with a fountain at its center, and from the fountain, some of the campus seemed familiar.

And yet, the picture in his mind seemed incomplete. It was as if he could remember only parts of the campus; other areas were totally strange.

Still, it was a memory.

He looked at his program card, and when the first bell sounded, he started toward the building that housed what would be his homeroom that year.

It was in one of the buildings he had no memory of, but he had no problem in locating the room. Just before the second bell rang, he stepped into the classroom, and started toward an empty seat next to Lisa Cochran. Before he could sit down, the teacher, whom he recognized from the picture in the yearbook as Mr. Hamlin, told him that he was to report to the dean of boys. He looked questioningly at Lisa, but she only shook her head and shrugged. Silently he left the classroom and went to the Administration Building.

As soon as he was inside, he knew that he was in familiar territory. As he glanced around, the walnut wainscoting seemed to strike a chord in him, and he stopped for a moment to take in the details of the lobby.

To the left, where it felt as though it should be, was a large glass-fronted office. Through the glass, he could see a long counter, and beyond it, several secretaries sitting at desks, typing.

Straight ahead, and off to the right, two corridors ran at right angles to each other, and without thinking, Alex turned right and went into the second office on the left.

A nurse looked up at him. “May I help you?”

Alex stopped short. “I’m looking for Mr. Eisenberg’s office. But this isn’t it, is it?”

The nurse smiled and shook her head. “It’s in the other wing. First door on the right.”

“Thank you,” Alex said. He left the nurse’s office and started back toward the main foyer.

Something, though, was wrong. When he had come into the building, he had recognized everything, and known exactly where the dean’s office was. Yet it wasn’t there.

Apparently he hadn’t remembered after all.

Still, as he made his way into what really was the dean’s office, he had the distinct feeling that he had remembered, and when the dean’s secretary glanced up and smiled at him, he decided he knew what had happened.

“How do you like the new office?” he asked.

The smile faded from the secretary’s face. “New office?” she asked. “What are you talking about, Alex?”

Alex swallowed. “Wasn’t Mr. Eisenberg’s office where the nurse is this year?”

The secretary hesitated, then shook her head. “It’s been right here for as long as I’ve been here,” she said. Then she smiled again. “You can go right in, and don’t worry. You’re not in any trouble.”

He passed the desk and knocked at the inner door, as he had always knocked at Dr. Torres’s door before going inside.

“Come in,” a voice called from within. He opened the door and stepped through. As with everyone else who had been pictured in the yearbook in his bedroom, he recognized the face and knew the man’s name, but had no memory of ever having met him before. Whatever his flash of remembrance had been about, it was over now.

Dan Eisenberg unfolded his large frame from the chair behind his desk to offer Alex his hand. “Alex! It’s great to see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you, too, sir,” Alex replied, hesitating only a second before grasping Eisenberg’s hand in a firm shake. A moment later, the dean indicated the chair next to his desk.

“Sorry to have to call you in on the first day of school,” he said, “but I’m afraid a little problem has come up.”

Alex’s face remained impassive. “Miss Jennings said I wasn’t in trouble—”

“And you aren’t,” Eisenberg reassured him. “But I did take the liberty of talking to Dr. Torres last week, and he suggested that perhaps we might want to give you a couple of tests.” He looked for a reaction from Alex, but saw none. “Do you have any idea what the tests might be for?”

“To see how much I’ve forgotten,” Alex said, and Eisenberg had the distinct feeling that Alex wasn’t making a guess, but already knew about the tests.

“Right. I take it Dr. Torres told you about them.”

“No. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, you don’t know which class I should be in if you don’t know how much I remember.”

“Exactly.” Eisenberg picked up a packet of standard form tests. “Do you remember these?” Alex shook his head. “They’re the same tests you took at the beginning of last year, and would have taken again in the spring, except …” His voice trailed off, and he looked uncomfortable.

“Except for the accident,” Alex finished for him. “I don’t mind talking about it, but I don’t remember it too well, either. Just that it happened.”

Eisenberg nodded. “Dr. Torres tells us there are still a lot of gaps in your memory—”

“I’ve been studying all summer,” Alex broke in. “My dad wants me to be in the accelerated class this year.”

Which is certainly not going to happen, Eisenberg thought. From what Torres had told him of Alex’s case, he knew it was far more likely that Alex would have to start all over again with the school’s most basic courses. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” he asked, trying to keep his pessimism out of his voice. “Anyway, if you feel up to it, I’d like you to take the tests today.”

“All right.”

Ten minutes later Alex sat in an empty classroom while Eisenberg’s secretary explained the testing system and the time limits. “And don’t worry if you don’t finish them,” she said as she set the time clock for the first of the battery of eight tests. “You’re not expected to finish all of them. Ready?” Alex nodded. “Begin.”

Alex opened the first of the booklets and began marking down his answers.

Dan Eisenberg looked up from the report he was working on, his smile fading when he saw the look of disappointment in his secretary’s eyes. A glance at his watch told him Alex had begun the tests only an hour and a half ago. “What’s happened, Marge? Couldn’t he do it?”

The young woman shook her head sorrowfully. “I don’t think he even tried,” she said. “He just … well, he just started marking answers randomly.”