That's Not My Name

by Megan Lally

Life really goes to shit when everyone thinks you killed your girlfriend.

Name: Lola Elizabeth Scott Age: 17 Hair color: Dark brown Eye color: Green Last seen: 10:55pm on September 29th at the Willamette River boat launch in Washington City

haven’t listened to music or picked up a controller in weeks. It’s all waiting on her.

Papá’s red-rimmed eyes meet mine. “Hijito, they found a body.” I turn and hurl into the trash can.

“I wonder how long we have,” Wayne says. I squint at him. “What?” “Before your memory comes back.”

“You know, something about you looks so familiar. I can’t put my finger on it.”

I nod, and kick at his foot until he sits up with a snort. “Where’s the…what?” he mumbles. I laugh. “Come on, Sergeant Sleep Apnea. Time to get up.” “Huh?” “Go. To. Your. Car.”

I don’t want to hear about the three of you going missing next, so don’t be foolish, okay?

What if he’s not my dad? What if I’m not Mary? What if that’s not my name?

The coyote dug up Ben Hooper’s corpse.

I run like my life depends on it, because it most certainly does.

“Mrs. Hooper?” I whisper. He looks up at me, eyes wide. “You know her?” “No. But the guy upstairs killed her husband.”