The Adoration of Jenna Fox (Jenna Fox Chronicles 1)

‘Rich, you mean?’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘From restoring brownstones?’

Lily laughs.

‘So it’s Father then. Doctors make that much?’

‘No.’

I see her hesitate. The car idles at the stop sign. She sighs like she is giving up something precious and I had better appreciate it. ‘He started his own biotech company and sold it four years ago. That’s where he made his money. He developed Bio Gel. It changed everything as far as transplants were concerned. Instead of just a few hours, organs could be shelved indefinitely waiting for the right recipient. He was on the news and made a big splash. Anything else?’

‘If he sold his company, where does he work now?’

‘Same place.’

I don’t understand, but Lily isn’t offering any further explanation and I am tired of prying information out of her. I change the subject and gesture back to the street we have just exited. ‘Do you know the neighbors?’ I ask.

‘Not yet,’ Lily answers. Again, she doesn’t elaborate. I know she’d rather enjoy the silence. I don’t think that will happen.

‘You’ve been here for over a year. Why haven’t you met them?’

‘What makes you think we’ve been here that long?’

‘Mother said we moved here because—’

‘We’ve been here two and a half weeks.’

‘That’s impossible,’ I say. ‘That’s almost exactly how long I’ve been awake. We move here one day and I wake up the next? What are the chances …’

I don’t say any more. Neither does Lily. I remember Mr Bender’s comment about us only being here for two weeks, too. It’s true. How could Mother and Father have known? After I spent over a year in a coma, how could they have predicted exactly when I would wake up and then move to California precisely at that time? Was it only coincidence? Or did they decide when I would wake up? Why would they keep me in a coma for so long? Why would they steal a year and a half of my life? What kind of parents are they?

Careful, Jenna.

I was wrong. Lily gets to enjoy her silence.

Agreement

I never asked about the accident. Something told me not to.

Maybe it was the shine of Mother’s eyes.

Maybe it was Father’s smile that tried too hard.

Maybe it was something deeper inside me that I still can’t name.

The Accident.

Like a title. A stop sign. A wall.

It separates me from who I was and who I will be.

I can’t ask and they don’t offer.

It’s a hushed agreement.

Perhaps the only thing