"Do you like seafood? I guess I should have asked that before I invited you to Fisherman's Wharf. Anyway, have you ever had Thai?"

"No. It's usually been my dad or Linda's cooking or takeout. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Anything."

"What do they know about me?"

"I didn't tell them about your accident, if that's what you mean. I figured that if you wanted people to know, you could tell them yourself."

“Thanks. Why did Sam and Tyler call Rebecca Goth?”

“In high school she attempted to be gothic, but failed, miserably. You should have seen it. She's not so gothic now, but she likes the The nickname stuck though."

"So how is Thai food?"

"It expensive most of the time, spicy, and delicious. The one that we are going to just has seafood, no other kinds of meat, so it's easier for Rebecca and I to eat something that's kosher.”

"Wait, why do you have to have your food kosher?"

"My family is very Jewish. We never want to break the rules. We've never had non-kosher food, so why start now, you know? In fact, Rebecca is a vegetarian."

"Oh. Have you ever been to this place? And I must sound really dumb asking this question, but what is a vegetarian?"

"Don’t worry about it. It means that she doesn't eat meat. And Rebecca probably already checked it out to make sure that this place was kosher. I'm sure it will be good. Do you like spicy food?"

"I don't know. I haven't had it before."

His smile was bathed in the neon lights of the restaurant. The others went in ahead of us. We stood under the awning as he gently brushed the droplets off of my hair and coat. "Tonight will be a night of firsts, then."

"You really should call your dad back, honey. You haven't spoken to him in almost three years. He just wants to get to know you. Where's the harm in that?" Her mom told her the same thing every time she called ever since she told her that her dad had called and left a message.

"If he really wanted to get know me, why didn't he all of those years? I don't want to get to know him. You should know. You left him. And you know how I felt every time he cancelled his weekends with me." She used the same excuse every time her mom said this. "I have to go now, Mom. I need to do homework so I can do well in school, like I promised. Talk to you tomorrow. Love you. Bye." She hung up before her mom could respond.

She fell back onto her tiny, uncomfortable bed and let out a deep sigh. She hated lying to her mom, but she couldn't stop herself. She didn't know why she was embarrassed to let her friends know that she called her mom every day. It was probably the same reason her mom thought they were best friends, but then she talked about her to her friends behind her back. She always timed her daily phone calls perfectly: when her roommate, Lauren, was at or when she was at their dorm alone.

She sat back up and examined herself in the mirror she and Lauren bought to make their tiny dorm seem bigger. She had bleached her hair back to its natural blonde for the New Year. Her roots blended in so it wasn’t noticeable. Her make-up was perfect, like always. Her hair was slightly curled into perfect rings. Seeing herself this way reminded her of high school. She was the most popular, most beautiful, most respected, meanest, and most feared girl in the school. She wondered when she started being so mean. Was it in high school? Middle school? Or before that? She tried to remember the last time she was genuinely nice.

She decided it was before her parents were divorced. It was her dad's fault then, that she was mean and manipulative and had trust issues. It was her dad's fault that she was who she was. And she would tell him just that when she would call him. She tried to remember the last time she spoke to him, the last time she saw him. It was at her high school graduation. It had been a disaster. Her parents didn't speak to one another and he was drunk. He had embarrassed her at her party, so she left to go drink with her friends. Her parents didn't even notice that she had left her own party. That's when she decided that she would go to school in New York, the farthest she could get away from her parents.

Lauren burst into the room with an armful of brightly colored boxes and balloons. "Happy Birthday, Mel!" She had forgotten that her birthday was in just two days. "Everyone's waiting for us at that Italian place, your favorite. You can open your presents when we get back. The reservation is at seven and it's six thirty right now. Sorry I'm late, but hurry up!" She was excited: a night out with her friends would cheer her up. Even if it didn't, she could act her way through the night. After all, her major was theatre. Her friends had been visiting family and other friends in Buffalo since Friday. She was glad to have them back, but not quite ready to give up her privacy.

"Un moment, ma cherie. Je dois utiliser le téléphone." She loved speaking in French especially when people around her didn't understand it. Lauren left the room with the same amount of energy she came in with. Lauren knew that she liked to be alone when talking on the phone. She picked up the phone and dialed the foreign number. She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut as it rang. Half of her hoped that he would answer; the other half wished he didn't. Ring, ring, ring, ring. No answer. Finally, the traditional introduction to leave a message began. She let out the breath she was holding and waited for the beep.

"Hi Dad, it's me. I'm just calling to let you know that I got your message and I think we should meet or talk sometime soon. Call me back. You have my number. Bye." She hung up quickly, her heart beating fast. She slipped on her favorite pair of heels that made her five foot three at the most and matched perfectly with her monochrome outfit. She left the phone on her bed and opened the door to find Lauren waiting for her.

"Brooke, sit next to me." Sawyer moved over some to make room. I had gone to the bathroom while we were waiting for half an hour and they were seated. I sat down on the over-sized pillow and crossed my legs. Sawyer was on my right and Gabe was at my left. They were looking at the ornate menus at each place setting. The dark wood table was round and low to accommodate up to ten people. The walls were red with floral designs in a darker red. Shrines and pictures of a peaceful man filled the restaurant.

"Brooke, have you ever had bubble tea?" Gabe asked.

"No. This is my first time having Thai food."

"You should try it. I think we should get an order of Tom yam kung for the table," he said to the rest of the table.

"Sounds good, Gabe. How about we get some green curry to share as well?" suggested Sam.

"Not all of us like food as spicy as you, Sam. The Som tam Thai looks good. Why don't we get some of that for the table?" Rebecca proposed.

"Why don't we ask what looks good to Brooke? She is our guest," Sawyer reminded the others. All of their attention was on me and made me nervous. I read aloud the first thing I could pronounce.

"Pad Thai." My voice was small, making my decision sound more like a question waiting for approval. They all nodded in agreement and my anxiety faded away. The server came around and Gabe ordered bubble tea for the table as well as our entrees that were to be shared: Som tam Thai, massaman curry, Pad Thai, Tod man kung, fish saté, and Tom yam kung. The others resumed chatting with each other about school, sports, and the exciting promise of the future. Sawyer continued our conversation from outside, but changed the subject.

"How are you liking your new life? You know, you could reinvent yourself, be anybody you want."

"It's okay, I guess. I just get so frustrated sometimes."

"Are you having fun now?"

"Yes." We smiled to each other as if we were lifelong friends. The server returned with our bubble tea. The tall glasses were filled to the top with ice and a creamy brown liquid topped with a sprig of mint. I took a sip and was taken aback by the odd texture. It was sweet and different than anything I had ever had before, but I liked it. I started gnawing on the mint to freshen my breath and occupy my teeth while I listened to Sawyer talk about his travels to far off places I only heard about briefly in movies I had watched with Linda.

"So Brooke, what are you doing in San Francisco?" Gabe asked, interrupting my moment with Sawyer; but I answered his question happily, glad for someone else to know about me.

"My dad and I moved here from Santa Rosa because he got a promotion, so I was going to school here. I was driving one evening, I'm not sure where from, and I crashed into a tree. I lost all of my memory before I woke up in the hospital. The doctors said it was a miracle that I was alive and with only cuts and scratches. I'm living with my dad and the nanny he hired to take care of me. I snuck out tonight to get away from her."

"Was the sneaking out worth while?" asked Gabe playfully.

"I'm having the time of my life. Well, as far as I can remember." The three of us laughed and drank more of our bubble tea. The server brought out plates, the massaman curry and fish saté for us to eat. Rebecca started off by spooning her portion onto her plate and passed to Tyler on her right. The dishes made their way to me and scooped out a small portion, unsure if I would like it. If I didn't like it, I didn't want to take too much and deny the others more. If I did like it, I could always grab more later. Besides, there was going to be enough food for fifteen people at the table soon. I tried a bite of the curry.

The incense was suddenly thick. The dim light made it difficult for me to see the food on my plate. I started to get hotter and my tongue swelled. I was beginning to get dizzy and felt the all-too familiar signs of one of my headaches coming one. The nausea started in the pit of my stomach and slowly began to work itself up. The dull, throbbing pain in my temple was beginning.

"Sawyer, I'm not feeling so well. I think I need to go home. Now." His smiling face turned from carefree anticipation for my recommendation to concern for my well-being. The others were suddenly quiet. Sawyer’s fork clattered as he stopped eating.

"Sure. I'll take you home. I'll see you guys back at the apartment." The others nodded silently. In the corner of my eye, I saw them start to whisper to each other; but I didn’t care. I was concentrating on getting out of the stifling room. He guided me slowly up from my sitting pillow and placed my coat around my shoulders and led me out. "What's wrong, Brooke?"

"I get horrible migraines as a side effect from my accident and my medicine is at my apartment. I feel sick to my stomach right now. Good thing I didn't eat much, right?" I tried to laugh, but my body threatened to heave.

"Okay. My car isn't too far. I'll drive you home, but you're going to have to tell me where to turn." I nodded my head in agreement. We walked in the drizzle silently. Sawyer was guiding me through the people and I was concentrating on not spewing my one bite of dinner or the bubble tea. I was thankful then for the cold rain and slight breeze; it helped keep me calm and centered, kept me from over-heating.

Finally, we made it to his car. The side of the car read “Toyota Camry Solara.” It was small and the back seat was filled with papers and coats and other various items. He opened the passenger side door for me and I squeaked while sitting on the leather seats. He waited until I buckled my seat belt to go around to the driver's side. He climbed in right as the drizzle picked up a bit. His face was obscured by the dark. He turned on the car and a song in the middle of its performance sang sweetly into my ear, helping me focus on something other than my headache. The man's voice was calm and smooth with a guitar accenting it in the background: