TEXTURE There were ten minutes left before math class and I walked Hope back to her locker, where she’d forgotten her calculator. We headed down to the main floor, carried along by the surge of students crowding the stairway. At certain times our feet didn’t even touch the ground; we constituted a single carefree mass of hormones and muscles. One false step and we’d be swallowed up and mashed like potatoes. While we fought for our lives, I asked how Ann Randall was doing. Any better? Hope shrugged—she couldn’t really say. More and more she had the impression of living with a stranger, certainly easier to get along with than the previous stranger, but hardly easier to understand. Actually, Hope was beginning to suspect that the amnesia was long term, as if her mother had deleted large tracts of her memory. Hope had tried to talk to her about Yarmouth, about their frantic departure, but gotten nowhere. And there was no way of determining whether Ann Randall had forgotten or if she simply refused to touch on the subject.
What do You think about Apocalypse For Beginners (2010)?
