Remember Jamie Baker Read Online Free Page B

helping people, until she died in that explosion south of town about six months ago.”
    The only explosion south of Las Vegas six months ago was the one I caused that had left me brain-damaged.
    This didn’t make sense; something wasn’t right. It didn’t add up. This girl couldn’t be me. It was impossible. But it couldn’t be coincidence, either. Was there someone else out there like me? Another girl who had my same powers? Was it possible I had a sister? Maybe I had a family who knew Visticorp had taken me. Perhaps this Chelsea’s Angel knew I was being held captive and was trying to break me out. Maybe we were trying to escape when the explosion happened.
    My heart started to race as I dared to hope.
    But my theory didn’t make sense, either. If this man was telling the truth—and why would he make it up?—Tony should have known this story. He would have known if someone was helping us escape at the time of the explosion.
    He also had to know about this Chelsea’s Angel person. If her story and death were common enough to have her necklace mass replicated, then Tony should know who she was. But he couldn’t know. He searched the Internet for days after he found me, keeping track of all news about the Visticorp explosion. And, he was obsessed with superheroes. Even if he was locked in a lab until six months ago, he would have heard about Chelsea’s Angel in his searching. He would have told me about her. This was a huge clue about my past.
    “Do you have Internet here?”
    The guy laughed and pointed behind me. “It’s a slow connection on a crap computer, but knock yourself out. Look up the Chelsea’s Angel Live Rescue on YouTube. It’s the only video of her in person. You’ll freak. I swear you’re like her twin.”
    “Thanks.”
    He nodded and handed me a key to room number seventeen. I didn’t bother taking my stuff to my room first. I sat down at the dinosaur of a computer and held my breath as I did a Google search for what I hoped would be the key to my identity. Twenty minutes later, Motel Guy brought me a cup of coffee. “See? I told you, you look like her.”
    I blinked at the monitor and gratefully accepted the caffeine. “It’s crazy.”
    I didn’t just look like her. I was her. I had to be. She looked identical to me, with the exception of my craptastic green hair. She even had the yellow eyes, and they glowed when she used her powers, like mine do.
    I’d spent the last six months in a constant state of confusion, but as I sat there reading article after article about Chelsea’s Angel and the explosion at the Visticorp lab, my perplexity reached an all-time high. Chelsea’s Angel was everywhere. She was beloved by everyone, and even worshipped as a saint by some. She was the most popular Halloween costume last October, and she had her own action figure.
    There were also dozens of articles linking Chelsea’s Angel to the Visticorp explosion. There was a reporter she’d come to rescue that day who blew the whistle on all of Visticorps’s human lab testing. There was so much information on the Internet about Visticorp—information I’d tried to find a hundred times at home that had never come up in any of my searches before.
    I’d been trying to put the pieces together since I sat down, and the only answer I could come up with was one I hated. Tony lied to me. It was the only explanation. Tony was a computer genius. He told me I could only ever use the computer he’d given me because he put special firewalls on it to keep anyone from hacking it. But now I couldn’t help wondering if he’d actually put special restrictions on it that kept me from discovering any of this.
    He kept me so close, so sheltered. I thought he was just paranoid and overprotective. Obviously he was scared of Visticorp finding us—I sincerely believed that—but it had to be more than that. He knew something, and he didn’t want me to figure it out. He was lying to me and using my lack of memory