Reflection

By Jessica Roberts

Bright, spunky Heather Robbins has escaped her small hometown and is anxiously beginning her freshman year of college. Rising above her rocky childhood, she’s found a place where good things are finally starting to happen: her own private apartment, refreshing college classes, and an intense attachment to a mysterious and rugged classmate, Nick Richards.
But when her dreamy college life turns out to be nothing more than a wonderful dream while resting in a coma, questions threaten.

Now, Heather must press forward to unlock the real past, and find the answers buried deep in her mind. What she unlocks instead is a roller coaster ride through flashbacks, embellished memories, and a whirlwind romance.

And when it’s all over and she comes face to face with the truth, will she lose everything she’s fallen in love with?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jessica Roberts
• Release date: Feb 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9780615601175

Jessica Roberts

Jessica Roberts is an assistant professor of communication at the Catholic University of Portugal. She is co-author of the 2021 book Attacks on the American Press and the 2018 book American Journalism and ‘Fake News’: Examining the Facts. Her research on citizen journalism and social media has been published in Journalism, Social Media + Society and the International Journal of Communication, among other publications. Roberts earned her Ph.D. at the University of Maryland and her M.A. at the University of Southern California. Contact: Faculdade de Ciências Humanas, Universidade Católica Portuguesa, Palma de Cima, 1649-023 Lisboa, Portugal.

Book preview

REFLECTION

(Book 1)

JESSICA ROBERTS

Copyright 2012 Jessica Roberts

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the written permission of the author.

All rights reserved. Published by Copper Lane Publishing

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, incidents, and dialogue are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Copper Lane Publishing is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

EBook Edition: February 2012

ISBN 978-0-615-60117-5

For you, Mom ~

From my goals on the soccer field

to my goals as a writer,

you’ve always believed.

Chapter Zero

Chills.

Eager, urgent chills skated over Heather’s body as she zipped her small suitcase. After all, she’d been waiting for tomorrow for what felt like an entire lifetime. And still, tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Crash!

She flinched at the sound, recognizing it as a kitchen dish, probably a bowl; he went for those when drunkest. Another unlucky night of gambling.

She twisted her hands together, glancing anxiously at the small alarm clock that read 11:45 p.m. and then around her bedroom, which had been a forced but kind sanctuary for eighteen years. Her quilt rested on the small bed, bundled neatly with an old, worn-out belt, her small toiletry bag beside it. As she’d done several times over the past hour, she reminded herself it was only one more night. But suddenly one more night seemed unbearable when freedom was so close.

Get your butt down here and pick up this mess, Bill’s grisly voice yelled from below, followed by a slurred string of curse words.

In her imagination she did just that: stomped downstairs, picked up the dishes, and threw them back in his face. "This is for being a filthy, ratty-haired, lousy stepfather for the past six years. For loitering in front of local bars smoking cigarettes instead of working, like a normal person. For humiliating me beyond forgiveness when you got into that bar fight for cheating in a game of poker and got sent to the town jail—again," which happened to cause one of the most popular girls in her high school to verbally speculate on Heather’s own cheating tendencies—smack-dab in the middle of the cafeteria. As if she had something—anything—to do with her stepfather and his worthlessness. But none of that mattered anymore. Come tomorrow, all of it would be a part of her past.

After making sure the lock on her bedroom door was secure, she leaned against her door and stared at a small stain on the ragged carpet. She waited and listened, holding the door handle, pleading for silence, for him to pass out, for this night to end so tomorrow could finally arrive.

Another explosion. She ducked as if it were directed at her, and maybe it was. It always felt that way. Who was she kidding? Would it ever really end? Would she ever be truly free of this nightmare that was her life? Was she fooling herself to think that the perfect world she so desperately dreamed of actually existed out there somewhere?

His footsteps hit the stairs with clumsy thuds, stomping on her dreams and her heart in the process. In roughly two minutes her door would become his punching bag.

She grabbed her fuzzy brown slipper boots from beside her bed and slid them on, then hurriedly tucked her blue pajama bottoms in them, flinching at another bang from the stairwell. Like a lifeline, her eyes briefly shifted to the small corkboard on her wall with the goofy photo-booth pictures she and her best friend had taken at last year’s county fair, and a tiny spark of sunlight filled her. Without another thought, she pushed open her stiff bedroom window, climbed out in the usual fashion, landed on the dead grass with a thud, and began running down the dark road.

I know where you’re going! Bill yelled from somewhere inside the house. She clenched her fists and lengthened her strides, finally reaching the corner of the street and then turning right.

It wasn’t until the warm evening wind pricked her eyes that she realized tears were threatening. With all the chances to have a pity party, she chose now, the day before she was to leave? Classic. She quickly wiped away the annoying moisture, continuing on the familiar moonlit route to the safe haven of her best friend’s home. Such lovely family traditions, she thought with a resigning breath. But really, there was nowhere else she would have rather spent her final night.

After quietly sneaking through her best friend’s half-open bedroom window for the last of a hundred times, she did something completely out of character; she crawled right into his bed. She had no idea why, since it was totally inappropriate. Yet something possessed her to pull back his sheets and slide in beside him.

As soon as she did, she froze. Suddenly, as much as she needed to climb into his bed, she very much needed to climb out. But the moment she turned to get up was the same moment he stirred.

Hey, girly, he whispered into the darkness.

Hey, loser, she answered back, squeezing the hand that found its way into hers. She uneasily lay on her side as her eyes adjusted to the blackness, calling to mind a mental image of him walking toward her, his hands pressed deep in his pockets and that energetic strut that always had a comforting effect.

You good? he spoke into the still air.

She nodded, grateful for this friend who was attuned to the part of her that didn’t like to talk about homelife.

She waited a minute, then couldn’t wait any longer. Say something, she told herself. It’s Creed, for heaven’s sake. Sorry I woke you. Which really meant Sorry I climbed into bed with you, and I should have taken the floor like usual, but you would have switched spots with me in the middle of the night like you always do when I fall asleep in your room, and I didn’t want you to sleep on the floor again, or maybe I was cold from the jog here, or maybe the comfort of your arms was too perfect to resist, or maybe it was none of those reasons—

You didn’t wake me, he said quietly. I wasn’t asleep.

Oh, okay.

He cleared his night-roughened voice and said enthusiastically, All packed up and ready to go? The words sounded hollow, but he went on in the same encouraging way. Big day tomorrow.

Her hand fumbled in his as she tried to make sense of a head full of thoughts and a mouthful of empty words. I . . . I’m just . . . I need to stop by the library in the morning to say goodbye to Grandma V and pick up my paycheck . . . thank her for everything—the car, the extra cash, for being the best boss ever. But I’m pretty much packed up.

That’s good. So I guess everything’s set.

After a length of more silence, the kind of silence that doesn’t really count since so much is being said, she finally readjusted on her back and turned her head toward him, trying to keep her focus off his moonlit curly blond hair and the endearing dimple in his cheek that somehow stayed put even when he wasn’t smiling. I’m really going to miss you, Creed. Her focus went to the ceiling, and her nose crinkled. I’m not even really sure I want to go. But since he’d seen the calendar in her room marked with X’s, and the X’s continued after their high school graduation day last week, she knew she wasn’t fooling him.

He might have told her this was her choice alone, or called her a liar, or not said anything, all of which would make her feel like a jerk. Instead, he squeezed her hand and then released it, speaking softly, Come on, Heath.

Too much behind those words. So much familiarity. So much comfort. She could hardly stand it. She kept telling herself he would be fine. She had more to lose without his company than he did without hers; he was better than her in every way . . . well, except in bowling and ping-pong.

She felt her nose scrunch again. It always did that when things were messy. When life wasn’t throwing them troubles—and sometimes even when it was—they preferred humor to gloom, so this conversation felt all wrong. But she persisted. I really need you to be supportive right now.

I know. It’s just that sending my loser best friend off to college doesn’t make me want to jump for joy. He paused, still shaking his head. You leaving—

Creed, she cut in. "I’ll never really leave; you know that. I’m not even leaving Missouri. St. Louis is only four hours from Nevada City—three the way you drive."

You couldn’t even wait for the country barn party before you go and start that new life of yours, he countered, only half joking.

Heather shut her eyes so he wouldn’t see what she was thinking behind them: I just can’t do another barn party, Creed.

Thinking about another barn party made her feel dead inside, whereas thinking about moving to college made her feel alive and free, the same way she felt every day after school for that brief hour while running around the jogging track at school. To be a little fish in a big sea. To break free of the label the library girl with the tragic family life and start with a clean slate. To finally have the freedom to truly be, without drunk stepfathers or small-town gossip or the painful past. To remove that past with an all-powerful eraser—now that would be true happiness.

Forget I mentioned the barn party, he interrupted her thoughts. What classes did you register for again? Track, of course, and then—

History and creative writing, she said too quickly and with too much enthusiasm, suddenly wanting to stick that familiar sock in her mouth. As an alternative to the sock, she put her arm through his; it was a natural gesture between them. Maybe not while lying in bed together, but tonight was an exception. And it never ceased to amaze her how comfortable she felt wrapped in his arms.

You’ll do good in those classes, he conceded.

After a short lull of thoughtful silence, he went on. After we stop by the library in the morning, what’s the plan till you have to head out?

Well, she began, relieved the conversation had turned to a somewhat lighter topic. I thought we would go to the grocery store, buy out the candy aisle, head to the swing set behind old man Cowley’s field, and eat gummy bears till we puke.

He chuckled knowingly. Like the good old days.

Yeah, she said through a small laugh. The good old days.

They both knew that the good old days, for her at least, had gotten progressively worse. But she wasn’t the wallowing sort. And yes, Creed had filled the void, made her smile, kept her sane and safe; he made life good. So leaving him, even temporarily, would hurt right in the sensitive places of her heart.

But the thought of staying was unthinkable. So she tried not to think at all, which suddenly became impossible when he unexpectedly turned, taking her in his arms and bringing her closer.

You know what I’ll never forget? he spoke softly near her ear. Watching you walk into the yard the night of my parent’s twenty-fifth anniversary party. You were wearing that pearl necklace your mom left you. And your eyes—they were lit up like they always are when you smile.

Creed, seriously . . .

Just let me finish. He cleared his already clear throat. Heath, even with all the crap you’ve been through, you are the awesomest person I know. Sheesh, you can fix my car better than I can. I just hope you really start to share yourself with other people.

Creed knows me so well, she thought to herself. He’d probably already guessed she’d set a couple rules for her new life: one, to keep her lovely past to herself, and two, to not get too close to anyone. The thing was, she never wanted to hurt again the way she did after Mom’s sickness. And she figured if she never got too close to anyone, never really opened up, she would stay safe, never feel that bone-aching pain again. At least that’s what she told herself, though she knew deep down there were several flaws in her logic.

Truthfully, she didn’t enjoy being the withdrawn type. But she figured the past had a way of forming a person into who they became. And yet it was time to move forward, without her only current support system, Creed and her manager at the library, Grandma V.

And was it wrong for her to dream of something better? To dream of things other girls dreamed of? All that stupid girly stuff she’d never admit to dreaming about? Of course she’d never become the princess in the fairy tale or anything like that. Far from it. In fact, the last time she’d painted her nails was—never. But what about the knight in shining armor part? Someone handsome and rugged who would make her want to trade in her cherry Chapstick for something with a little shine?

You’ll be a gift to all your new friends, he went on, like you were to me.

Were? she exclaimed, scooting her body to sit up, frustrated that her thoughts—which were currently on lip-gloss colors . . . really?—had gotten so far away from her again. What’s your problem, Creed? You’re talking like we’re never going to see each other. Now you’re really acting like a loser.

As if knowing her small temper would pass as quickly as it came, he casually sat up with her and reached to turn on the lamp. She squinted against the brightness, watching him open his nightstand drawer and grab what looked like a shiny little ball.

Will you take this? He presented her with a wide gold ring carved with intricate detailing. And promise me you’ll always be safe? If I can’t be with you, at least I know you’ll always have a part of me while you’re at college.

Guilt. Sorrow. Appreciation.

Guilt because although the only time they’d ever been intimate—excluding tonight’s cuddling—was when they’d kissed in fifth grade during a neighborhood truth-or-dare game, Heather knew she was ruining Creed’s plans for their future together. Marriage, family, a humble home on the outskirts of Nevada City with acres of farmland. That’s how it worked in small towns and she knew it as well as the rest of them.

Sorrow because that little picture with Creed sounded sort of nice. Or easy. Or at least safe. And there was some small part of her that wanted the assumptions about their relationship to be true.

Appreciation because even though he didn’t understand why she needed to leave, he supported her anyway. He knew how bad she wanted this; he understood that much.

He would always be more than her friend. He was her family, her only family. And she had no idea when they would see each other again. She suddenly felt the urge to wrap her arms around him and remain there, safe forever. Instead, she quietly held out her hand and the ring was placed on her finger. For now, she wouldn’t think of life without him—too painful, too much. Goodbyes, even the temporary ones, were hard.

***

Heather carefully closed the front door so Bill wouldn’t hear her come in. Though her stepfather was hardly ever around in the mornings, his beat-up hatchback was in the driveway. If sober, he’d stay out of her way. If still drunk, she’d do her best to stay out of his.

Sadly, when her foot hit the first stair, he came around the corner.

Normally she’d turn around and head back to Creed’s, but five minutes was all it would take to grab her stuff.

Spend the night at your boyfriend’s, did you? He looked disgusting. His breath smelled sour, and he must have slept in the clothes he was wearing, if he’d slept at all.

She glanced up the stairs as if doing so would automatically put her there. I’m running upstairs to get my things, and then I’m gone.

But you’re not gone yet, are you? He put his dirty hand on the stair rail and stopped her from advancing. While you’re under my roof, you obey my rules. I asked you a question.

Resolutely, she turned away and took another step toward her room, deciding that the less she said or did, the less fuel for his alcohol-induced temper. With the third step, he snatched her arm, stopping her.

Everything seemed to happen at once.

Let go of me, Heather demanded.

A knock sounded on the front door.

She jerked her arm out of Bill’s hold.

The front door opened. Creed.

Bill grasped her shoulder in a painful grip, pulling her backward.

No! Creed yelled as Heather’s head jerked back hard toward the stairs.

For a brief flash she saw Creed’s face turn ashen. He ran toward her in slow motion as she plummeted toward the metal stair rail, trying to catch herself.

Too late. A sharp pain exploded in the back of her head.

And then the lights dimmed.

Chapter One

My body felt both heavy and featherlight. It was black as midnight. My eyelids were swollen, but I managed to lift them.

Everything was still and calm.

I found myself standing on a rock near the seashore, the ocean waves crashing on the sand below. The sky was gray and cloudy. A lighthouse appeared on a cliff in the distance, blinding my view as it strobed across the water’s crest. The atmosphere was peaceful. Too peaceful.

Was I dreaming?

When I decided that I was, the dream began to fade. The lighthouse dimmed, and the ocean receded into nothingness.

I woke to my mother’s voice. Wake up, sweetheart. Don’t you hear the beeping? Strong and steady now. Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . .

I leaned over and clumsily pressed the snooze button on my alarm clock, expecting Mom to say something about me sleeping in again. But my room remained silent.

I cuddled into my yarn-tied quilt. It was the same quilt that had covered my squeaky twin bed for five years, the quilt Mom gave me on my thirteenth birthday. But the bed was too big and soft to be mine.

When I tried to make sense of this, my mind wouldn’t let me. My brain felt as if it had been wiped out, and my memory, removed with an all-powerful eraser. My head was all fuzzy, evidently still trying to rouse itself and get a grip on the waking world. It took a disoriented moment, but my eyes finally adjusted to the dark room around me.

Thankfully, the bright glowing numbers of my alarm clock shouting 7:45 a.m. triggered the on switch to my brain, and I suddenly realized where I was and what I was doing here. How could I have forgotten?

After all the waiting and anticipating, crazy that it would take a moment to remember the importance of today. Soon, almost too soon according to the knots in my stomach, I would be in my first class of my first semester at college.

I turned off the alarm and got out of bed feeling a slight headache, probably from the large goose egg on the back of my head. I was also a little shaky, but that wasn’t a shocker. I was starting my freshmen year today, I was away from home for the first time in my life, and I was sleeping in my new second-floor apartment, all by myself.

After getting dressed, out of habit I pulled my long hair back into a ponytail, the same way it was in the picture resting on the small dresser by my bed, the one of my mom and me at Radio Springs Park. I picked up the wooden frame that held my favorite photo of us. Mom looked so happy, almost as if she were smiling at me right through the glass. We looked so much alike. My hair was a shade lighter and less wavy than my mom’s deep brown curls, but our facial features were identical: thin face, long eyelashes, and blue eyes. Like her, I had no particularly strong features, but I supposed they all fit together fine. I had a healthy head of hair, rosy cheeks, and we both had those smiling eyes. Things could be worse.

It was almost nine in the morning when I entered the college’s hallway of flags, appropriately named for the two rows of banners hanging from either side of the ceiling and down the length of the bright, sunlit hallway.

Just then, the sun bounced off my hand and into my eyes. I blinked, looking down toward the object reflecting the light. As I studied the gold band on my ring finger, a face suddenly materialized in my empty head, wafting the void into swirls of friendly disorder. Creed. I suddenly remembered him. It was as if his memory was dug from the trash bin in the computer of my mind. And now he was restored as my best friend. It felt strangely warm and intimate, almost like he was standing beside me, holding my hand. I could hear him, too, from far away: "Hang in there, Heath. His voice sounded shaky. Please. You’re going to be okay."

"I know," I whispered back. How had I forgotten him? I must have been more nervous to start school than I thought.

I released a breath and continued on to my first class—history.

The door opened from the top level, with stairs on either side of the room descending toward the front of the class. As I lingered in the doorway watching students make their way down the stairs and into the rows of seats, a sudden recollection of all the ways I’d remained invisible in my high school classes came to mind.

Well, this would be different. No one here knew I was Creed’s quiet sidekick. No one knew the back row was usually mine or that I didn’t answer questions aloud even on the off chance they had to do with things I knew a lot about, like garage sales or fast food.

A tentative voice spoke above the quiet commotion: Everyone find your seat. I ran my eyes across the large room to locate the source. If you’ll notice, your last name is on a three-by-five card taped to the tabletops. They’re in alphabetical order, according to last name. A short, chubby, balding man spoke from the bottom center of the bright room. A few people in the room moaned, and conversations suddenly grew louder. Please find your name. He paused for several moments—I think he thought his silence would be contagious but it had the opposite effect. Quiet down, people. He motioned with his hands in an unsuccessful attempt to reduce the noise level.

Everything seemed faster than usual, and contradicting emotions wobbled around in my head. I felt strong yet weak, so alive and yet completely scared to death.

Settle down, I told myself as I twisted Creed’s ring around and around. There is no reason to freak out. Stop acting like a moron. You made it. You’re here. You can do this. Go on! Live it up!

With a little help from the voice in the back of my head, I squared my shoulders and slowly stepped into class. Forcing my legs forward, I entered a row of chairs, moving around each person, careful not to fidget. Others were also making their way through aisles, some reading names loudly, some—the more social ones—wondering why their names were being yelled out.

Yep, I can totally do this! I told myself as a surge of adrenalin raced through my veins. I was actually here at college, starting my new life. Ready to meet new people. No more imagining this day; I was finally living it. The olive-green mail-style bag I’d bought last week at a thrift store tugged on my shoulder, proving it.

Preacher . . . Richards . . . I silently read the name cards on the table while moving around the chairs. Robbins should be next, I told myself. Holding my bag into my side, I weaved around two spaces, both occupied. I continued with the next open spot, and when the last names on the cards started with an S, I realized my name card was missing.

Turning back to make sure I hadn’t passed mine on accident, I noticed one of the name cards on the table where a girl with medium length, dirty-blonde hair was sitting. The girl’s back was to me, and she was talking to her neighbor, a guy wearing a black-and-white baseball hat. I leaned forward on my toes to get a better view of the card.

Robbins, I read silently.

The girl suddenly whipped her head around. Her stiff hair grazed my hand, and I flinched.

We’re losing her. We need to transfer her to St. John’s now if we have any chance of helping her.

What? My head drew back as I tried to make sense of the faraway words.

I said can I help you?

Her unfriendly tone and darkly outlined eyes pulled me out of my confusion, along with the fact that something about her looked familiar. I knew her somehow. I squinted my eyes as if studying her that way would help me remember.

Is your last name Robbins? I found myself asking after a space of silence, pointing hesitantly to the card on the table.

Is yours? she snapped back. Her eyes crawled from my hairline all the way down to my flip-flops and back to my face.

At first I was disappointed that I didn’t look familiar to her, because I could have sworn we’d met before. Then I felt intimidated, then I felt like a dummy with a bad outfit on, and finally, for no logical reason at all, I felt this bone-deep sense of discouragement that almost made my knees weak. The emotion was similar to waking too soon from a perfect dream.

I did my best to shake off the nagging feeling and concentrate on the girl. The last thing I wanted was to make an enemy with the first person I met. But by the way her eyes pricked at me, it was too late. Besides, what else could I say?

Yes, that’s my last name, I replied. I could have sworn the guy in the hat sitting next to her muffled a laugh.

Oh. I’m sorry. Her voice was polite, but her eyes stayed cold. She grabbed her bag off the back of the chair and thumped into the next seat over. As she did, I held in a cough, wondering if she’d spilled rose perfume on herself this morning. For a second the scent made me a little queasy. It was as strong as if someone had moved a bouquet of fresh roses right in front of my nose. In fact, I could almost picture the red of the roses pass my line of sight. Holding onto my book bag, I took my seat in between her and the baseball hat.

The teacher cleared his throat. Let’s begin.

Thank you, I thought to myself, releasing another heavy breath and trying to recover from the vulnerability I’d felt a moment ago. There was no reason to be worried. I was fine.

Welcome to U.S. History, he started. I’m Mr. Rowland. Let us commence by getting to know the people you’re sitting by. You’ll be working with them all semester long on a group project.

The blonde reached behind me toward the guy in the hat, and my shoulders tightened.

"Did

Reviews for Reflection

[asgwilli · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book was fantastic!!! I LOVED IT! More review to come but if you haven't read this yet, I highly recommend it!!!!!!!

[bookswithbite · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is an great story! I like that stories like this get so in depth with emotions and time!So, the part that I enjoyed most about the story, is when Heather wakes up. I really like her searching her mind for clues, lost pieces of what is and what is not. Though, the reader doesn't get much of Heather in the present tense, but more of the past tense, For me, the present tense is much more emotional. The confusion and anger that she bears really spun me for a ride!The love interest is okay but not completely set. Oh, it may seems like it, but I have a strong feeling that in the next book the author is going to through a fast one on the reader. Heather is a type a girl who won't let things go. And that frustrates me! I mean really CHICK! Really!Now, my only gripe about this book is the switching back and forth from past to present tense. Just when I am getting use to being in one period the author changes to another. Not to mention that it just landed on you. One minute past, the next BOOM!, the present. Even though I did like going back and forth, I felt the transition was too much. Know what I mean?Reflection is a wonderful start to a great series. Vivid and life-like, the reader gets a great in-depth view of being in Heather's shoes. The reader gets a good sense of the plot pacing allowing the reader to immerse themselves in the authors writing. Blending a real life situations, it doesn't take long for the reader to get caught up inn moments. Reflection is awesome.

[lesleymc · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Interesting concept. The story is told as the protagonist, Heather, recounts the life she lived whilst in a coma to a doctor. Although it was an easy, interesting read I found the romance too long and drawn out, for me it swamped what could have been a very good novel. I do however think it would appeal very much to young adults.

[iris0boekenplank · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Originally reviewed at Witchmag's BoekenplankI received a copy as part of a blog tour in exchange for an honest review* May contain some spoilers*This is one of the most frustrating books I’ve ever read. Maybe even the most. I was this close *puts thumb on index finger* to bursting out in tears because of all the pent-up emotions. And because I was frustrated. A lot. The beginning is just toooooo slow for my taste! Right at the start you already know that she had an accident. It’s even in the blurb. But instead of knowing what exactly happens, there are 200+ pages you have to struggle through before you get to know what happened with Heather. This really worked on my nerves. I wanted to know what was going on. Not experience everything she went through in the six months or so before her accident, with full details. Okay, it helped with forming an image of Heather and her friends. And what lead to the crash. But couldn’t this be done in fewer pages? Or couldn’t we return to the here and now from time to time, so I would know how she’s faring now? Since you already know it’s just a dream….The most frustrating part was definitely the ending. We’re finally in the here and now. Get to know what happened, why it happened. The consequences. AND THEN THE BOOK ENDED! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA! You’ve got to be serious? This is no ending at all! How could it end like this? Why did I read all of her memories if the book finishes here? It was such an anticlimax and cliffhanger at the same time. And I was left hanging! With a lot of emotions that I couldn’t give a place! Therefore my almost bursting in tears reaction ;)I also had a hard time understanding Heather. Who she was, what her real character is like. Cause you experience everything through her memories, who are sometimes pretty otherworldly, or making no sense at all. This makes it hard to believe that everything is real. Especially when you keep in mind this is supposed to be a dream. And in the end it left me confused and with no information about Heather at all. Fortunately this was a very compelling read, so the book managed to keep me interested, even if I didn’t have a clue of what was going on. I really wanted to know how it ended! (Of course this was before I read the actual ending -.- )ConclusionI haven’t got the tiniest idea of how many hearts this book is worth. On the one hand it’s a book that occupied my mind, even after finishing it. On the other hand it was pretty boring and frustrating to read about all those memories. Therefore let’s strike the golden mean: 3 HEARTS. I’m a little scared for the next book though, I don’t know if I’ll be able to survive another roller coaster like this…

[jsamaha-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I wish I could give this book 4.5 stars! This story follows a young girl as she leaves high school and her small town behind to take control of her life at college. Something happens and she ends up in a coma. She spends a majority of the book telling us (well actually a doctor) about her life and her time in college. We're left with the mystery of what is true and what is in her imagination.

I found myself wanting to constantly pick up this book so that I could get to the end and find out the answers....Is the boy of her dreams real? How did she get in the coma in the first place?

I would definitely recommend this book for young adults and also for adults (it brings back those special memories of falling in love). I loved the ending and can't wait for the next book in the series to see how things play out!