Forget Me Read Free Page B

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    Is this Evan Murphy? YES. NO. DONE TAGGING.
    â€œWhat the hell?” I said.
    Toni brought her face closer to the screen. “Who’s Evan Murphy?”
    â€œI don’t know, but FriendShare seems to think he’s my dead boyfriend.”
    She shook her head. “Stupid website. It’s probably glitchy or something. Just say ‘no’ and then hit ‘post.’”
    My finger hovered over the mouse, but I didn’t click “no.” My muscles tightened into steel coils. It was probably nothing. It
had
to be nothing. But I needed to see.
    With a trembling hand, I clicked on Evan’s name.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Toni asked.
    â€œI just want to see who he is,” I said. “Now I’m curious.”
    â€œYou’re postponing the closure. I knew you’d chicken out. You need to do this!”
    She continued to lovingly lecture me, but I couldn’t hear her anymore. All I heard was the rush of blood through my head and the ragged, sharp intakes of my own breath.
    Because the page had loaded. Evan Murphy lived a few towns away and looked
exactly
like Flynn. Except he was very much alive.

CHAPTER 2
    D oritos hit the floor as the open bag fell from Toni’s hand. “Whoa . . .”
    â€œYeah,” I breathed.
    â€œWhat? Who?”
    Toni continued her one-word questions as I clicked around, trying to access anything else on Evan Murphy’s page. But he had a good amount of privacy settings on, and the only thing I could see was that one small profile picture and his town name, Littlefield—only fifteen minutes away.
    Toni jabbed a finger at the photo. “It’s Flynn. I mean, it
is
him, right?”
    â€œIt can’t be,” I said. “I don’t know.”
    â€œHow can you not know?” Toni screeched. “FriendShare matched his face to this guy. It’s him! Look!”
    I didn’t know how I was staying so calm. Toni was clearly going bananas. But it was like my brain had shut off all emotion so it could focus. I clicked on the photo in an attempt to enlarge it, but the resolution was terrible when I tried to zoom in. The face was Flynn’s face. Those steely gray eyes that were so hard to ignore. The slope of his jaw. The sly, one-sided grin.
    But it couldn’t be him. I searched for something sane to grasp on to.
    â€œHe’s wearing a baseball hat,” I said quickly. “Flynn never wore hats.”
    â€œHe also never said his name was Evan Murphy and he lived in Littlefield. Being an undercover hat lover obviously wasn’t his biggest secret.”
    I needed to get away from the computer, from the familiar face smiling at me on the screen. I pushed the chair back and stood up. “It’s just someone who looks eerily like him.”
    â€œNot eerily,” Toni said. “Exactly.”
    I pulled my hair back and held it at the nape of my neck. “Could he, like, have a twin living in another town with a different last name?” I said, thinking out loud. “I know it’s crazy, but what else could it be?”
    â€œHe could be alive,” Toni said.
    I sank down onto the edge of my bed as a wave of nausea washed over me. I put my face in my hands and rubbed circles on my forehead. Could Flynn really be alive? How would that be possible? And . . . he let me think he was dead? Would he do that?
How
could he do that?
    I dropped my hands and looked up at Toni. She was staring at me with a wary expression, probably waiting for me to lose it.
    â€œIt’s impossible,” I said.
    â€œThere was no funeral,” she countered.
    That was true. I’d never met Flynn’s parents. He never wanted to talk about them, and I assumed he never told them about me. I never got word about a wake or funeral, and it wasn’t printed in the paper. Flynn had lived in town only a couple of months, and he didn’t even go to our school. He went to St.