acked　down　the　asylum

where　she'd　spent　the　last　years　of　her　human　life。　The　life　she　had　no　memory

of。

〃My　name　was　Mary　Alice　Brandon；〃　she　told　me　quietly。　〃I　had　a　little　sister

named　Cynthia。　Her

daughter—my　niece—is　still　alive　in　Biloxi。〃

〃Did　you　find　out　why　they　put　you　in　that　place？〃　What　would　drive　parents

to　that　extreme？　Even　if

their　daughter　saw　visions　of　the　future

She　just　shook　her　head；　her　topaz　eyes　thoughtful。　〃I　couldn't　find　much

about　them。　I　went　through　all

the　old　newspapers　on　microfiche。　My　family　wasn't　mentioned　often；　they

weren't　part　of　the　social

circle　that　made　the　papers。　My　parents'　engagement　was　there；　and　Cynthia's。〃

The　name　fell　uncertainly

from　her　tongue。　〃My　birth　was　announced　and　my　death。　I　found　my　grave。　I

also　filched　my

admissions　sheet　from　the　old　asylum　archives。　The　date　on　the　admission　and

the　date　on　my　tombstone

are　the　same。〃

I　didn't　know　what　to　say；　and；　after　a　short　pause；　Alice　moved　on　to　lighter

topics。

The　Cullens　were　reassembled　now；　with　the　one　exception；　spending　Cornell's

spring　break　in　Denali

with　Tanya　and　her　family。　I　listened　too　eagerly　to　even　the　most　trivial

news。　She　never　mentioned　the

one　I　was　most　interested　in；　and　for　that　I　was　grateful。　It　was　enough　to

listen　to　the　stories　of　the　family

I'd　once　dreamed　of　belonging　to。

Charlie　didn't　get　back　until　after　dark；　and　he　looked　more　worn　than　he　had

the　night　before。　He　would

be　headed　back　to　the　reservation　first　thing　in　the　morning　for　Harry's

funeral；　so　he　turned　in　early。　I

stayed　on　th