[1] Blank Slate || Julie and the Phantoms ✔

CHAPTER 1: Now or Never ✔️

HIGH SCHOOL IS the bane of everyone's existence, but even in death I can't seem to escape it. I'm one of the lucky ones: not many people can say they died and lived to tell the tale. However, not knowing anything about my previous schooling leaves me with the possibility of restarting high school. You heard me. I might be a freshman again.

I may not remember my life, but I do know enough to realize that you don't want to repeat the ninth grade. Once again, my fate is in another's hands.

So, here I am, tapping my foot on the kitchen floor anxiously as I wait for the email that tells me what year I will begin in. I sigh heavily, resting my chin on my hand as I prop up my elbow on the table.

It's sooooooo inconvenient that the well-respected Los Feliz High School waited until my first day to give me my schedule. Are they really so stumped by my situation? And does this mean that they expect me to do badly? Did I do badly on the placement tests?

It's hard to know what the standard is when I cannot remember the standard.

"Have you gotten the email now?" I ask, trying to hide the annoyance that creeps into my voice.

Unfortunately, 7 a.m. me is not living her best life.

I'm clearly not a morning person.

"Let me check." Mrs. Taylor Williams, my foster mother unlocks her phone and scrolls through her gmail. "Not yet."

"Have you checked the spam folder?" I ask promptly, peering over her shoulder.

She cuts her eyes over at me. "Yes, but I can try again and reload the page."

"Thank you," I say, sighing again as I lift my head and stare at the ceiling. Is it bad that I'm already looking forward to my graduation?

Taylor hums to herself and my eyes snap down to her phone. Numbers show in an email from school underneath a long message.

It takes every ounce of respect in me not to leap up and snatch the phone out of her hands.

"Okay, honey, your test scores show that you have enough knowledge to be in sophomore and junior classes, but if they feel too difficult, you can always let the teacher know and they'll switch you out," my foster mother says. "I'm sure the school will be as understanding as possible. You've been through a lot."

I let out a sigh of relief. Being a second or third year student wasn't nearly as bad. Until now, all they had told me was I couldn't be admitted as a senior. There is no evidence of a high school transcript since no one can figure out who I am.

"Thank you," I reply. My phone pings as she texts me a screenshot of my new schedule.

Confused? I am too.

I have dissociative amnesia, so I'm bound to be confused a lot. It's a specific type called retrograde, meaning while I can form new memories, I can't remember anything from before the incident. Somehow I can recall basic things relating to schooling like math, reading skills, science, and some historical facts. Any personal memory or sense of identity was wiped away in my real death experience.

I don't even remember my own name. The tattoo over my heart says Lila, so supposedly that's my first name. I chose to have a double name, picking Mae for the month they saved my life. The spelling is my own special quirk.

I know it's probably nowhere near my real name, but it's not everyday that people get to change their name. Lila Mae sounds like a good name to me.

"Ready to go?" Mr. Daniel Williams asks me. Mrs. Williams has to take their biological children to school, but wanted to make sure she spoke to me before I left for my first day.