Read the first 3 episodes of my latest Latinx novel Never Forget!

Some people remember everything that they did on September 11, 2001. That’s what’s called a flashbulb ‘snapshot’ memory. It is highly vivid and detailed. Unlike many people, I can’t remember what happened that day because I didn’t live it. Others have their first heartbreak, but it hasn’t happened to me yet. I’ve experienced what no one wants to experience, losing one's parents. Now I must figure out how to get through college, find a career, and live without them. 

There are some things that people wouldn’t do. Maybe this is one of them. I’m working through my trauma to help me pay for college. Not that I know what to do with my life, but it’s what my parents wanted. I can’t let them down. At this point, I already know what I need to do for this trauma process. Xavier hands me the tech, I place it on my head like a headband that covers my eyes. At first, it’s all dark. You wonder, is it working? Then you’re transported into a different room virtually. You see a location from your past or create one from things you know. Xavier is my guide. He knows everything about the tech, the study, and what I need to unlock my memories. I trust him with my life. He is the only one I can trust. 

My best friend Jasmine left Corpus Christi, Texas with her dad to New York City. Now I’m living in my hometown and living on campus trying to figure everything out with only Xavier around. I’ve started my freshman year, and there’s something off about my psychology professor Penelope Castellanos. I’m not sure what it is, but I’ll figure it out, just like everything else. Xavier is calling out that I’m distracted. Isn’t it obvious? I’ve got to save these thoughts somewhere. There are some things that only you will know. While I explore my memories, we might go on a journey that will turn out differently than where we started. 

Now we move from this dark room on campus to my bedroom from my parents’ house. It gives me comfort that when I turn around, my parents will be there. It always makes me jump when Xavier starts speaking. He’s giving me directions on where to go on my path. He checks to see that I’m connected. The things that I touch can take me to other locations. His words can take me to the past. Is it worth exploring the past for the present? Will it change the future? Everyone wants to see their happy moments, but my mission is to reach the worst moment of my life. At least that’s what they want. Thankfully they’re willing to take time for me to get there. Is it worth it to pay for college? That’s up to you. 

I’ll do anything to make sure that I complete college. That’s what they wanted. They sacrificed everything for that. I’ll make it worth it. Plus it doesn’t hurt to spend time with Xavier. He’s nice on the eyes too. That thought makes me think about how good he looks in a green long-sleeve shirt and tight brown pants. “Thanks for adding me to your simulation,” he tells me. I can’t fully get his hair wave right. He doesn’t seem to mind. “People don’t normally do that.” 

“Having you in my ear makes you sound like a god or something,” I say. 

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Xavier replies. 

“Remove that smirk you have off your face,” I tell him. 

“How do you know what my face looks like?” Xavier asks. 

“I can sense it. Like a six sense,” I say. 

“I guess that’s why you can visualize me here too,” Xavier says. 

He looks at me like he’s wondering what I’ve been thinking about. Describing his face is the easiest part. It’s what everyone remembers the most. When you meet someone, you’ll remember their face, but their name is less likely. He’ll find out what I’m thinking eventually. It’s time for us to work, as best as we can. I’m sure that I’m not as good as the other participants in this study, but they are willing to keep me. 

“Don’t worry. You’re good enough,” Xavier says. Was he reading my mind? 

“You have to say that,” I reply. 

“It doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” he adds. 

I shrug it off, but it does mean something. “We should move forward.”

“You’re always all work, no play,” he says. 

“You know that isn’t true,” I say with a smile. 

“So you’ll go out with me tomorrow?” He asks. 

“Anything to prove you wrong,” I say. 

He jumps forward as if he’s skipping through my old house. It feels so strange. He won’t ever get a chance to enter that house. It’s been sold. Only in my memories. 

“It doesn’t mean we can’t have fun while we work,” he replies, as he turns around. “Then we can prove each other right.” 

“Well, you know more than I would,” I say as I direct him to what’s next. He starts looking around to figure out what memories the house holds within. As if the items will give him clues or if he can talk to them. I know he’s just looking at his computer and slightly glancing at me. Probably more than he should. They don’t care about it. The leaders of the study, well at least the ones I know of. Xavier told me that there are three running the study, but he doesn’t talk to them directly. He gets messages of what to do and he has to follow them to the key. They know what he’s doing. 

It should worry me that I don’t know enough about who’s running the study, but I’ve already started. Just like you all have. It’s time for you all to figure out what’s next. What would you do if you could visualize your past? How would you change the future? There are some moments I’ll never forget. 

Nunca olvidare.  

Episode 2: Season 1: Intro to Psychology 101

Let’s throwback to the first day of class. I was running late. That wasn’t normal. I usually wake up before the alarm. No time to figure out why. I grabbed what I needed for class. Thankfully I had set everything up the night before, so the bag was checked once and then twice before I grabbed a breakfast bar and bottle of water. I ran out of my door room through the building and rushed towards the main part of campus on the island. Everyone was rushing to find where their classes were. There were also a few looking at their phones to figure out the map of the island. Other freshmen like me, but I had already looked around to find the classrooms on my schedule to know exactly where to go. It still takes some time to walk from the dorm to the Bay Hall which is filled with lecture halls. 

Before I could even get close, I heard my phone ringing with the Doctor Who theme song. I knew that I had forgotten something. It was supposed to be silent. I didn’t want to be called out for interrupting the class, especially on the first day. I looked at the iPhone screen and noticed it was Jasmine. When I’d been calling her all weekend, she didn’t respond, but before I needed to get to class, she was ready to chat. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to answer the call with an airpod in my ear. 

“You don’t have good timing,” I answered with a huff. 

“You were making out with someone?!” She said shocked. 

“No, I’m heading to class,” I told her. 

“That’s boring!” Jasmine exclaimed.

“Well, Corpus Christi isn’t as exciting as New York City,” I said. 

“It can be. Not as much without me, but close,” she replied. 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” I said. 

“You’ve got to look at it from a different perspective. You’re a college student now. You can do whatever you want,” she said swiftly. 

“I can’t do whatever I want. My parents are gone, but they are counting on me,” I said. “Plus you did leave from here.” 

“I had the opportunity to leave. Did I want to leave my best friend?” 

“You would have jumped on the first plane if you could.” 

“There’s so much ahead of you,” Jasmine said. 

“Why are you so hopeful?” I told her. 

“I can feel it. Trust me. You’re going to meet someone that will change your life,” Jasmine said. I couldn’t believe it. I almost laughed at the crowd around me. Then I changed my mind. I didn’t want to look strange. 

“You sound like a psychic or a fortune cookie,” I said. 

“I’m Asian. So I’ll take the fortune cookie,” Jasmine said. “It’s so weird to be here. It’s amazing, but no one questions why I don’t speak Korean. Yet they’re shocked when I start speaking perfect Spanish.” 

“Well, you are also Latina,” I told her. 

“Yeah, but that was slightly more expected in Texas when many people speak Spanish as well as English,” she said. 

“You‘ll get used to it. The city must be exciting,” I said. 

“That’s the other thing. It feels so odd to wheel myself around everywhere. Thankfully they at least have wheelchair accessibility around here.” 

“That’s good. I’m sorry. I’ve got to cut this short. Class is about to start,” I said. Jasmine huffed on the other side of the line. 

“Can’t you be late just once?” She asked. 

“No, especially on the first day,” I said. Like a dropped mic. I turned off the phone completely as I entered the lecture hall. A lot of students were sitting in the classroom and I was relieved. It doesn’t look like our professor has even arrived. I sat down in the first row as that was where the only chairs were left, but I didn't mind. It gave me a good distance to write notes. While others pulled out their laptop computers, I pulled out my notebook. I like technology, but I found that writing by hand allowed me to remember more from class. Plus it didn’t hurt to look like you’re paying attention. Professors never know if you’re paying attention when you’re on your laptop. You could be playing a game while they are talking. I looked toward the clock on the wall. She was several minutes late now. Students murmured if they could leave if she didn’t come soon. 

Then a female voice started laughing from the middle of the lecture hall. I would have found it creepy if it wasn’t a cheerful laugh. Like she had some inside joke that no one else knew. Then the woman got up from the chair and started walking towards the front. The murmuring started to quiet down. Once we all could look at her, we could tell. She was the one we were all waiting for. 

“I always enjoy doing that for my first day of class,” said the woman. “You can call me Professor Castellanos. Don’t call me Dr. Castellanos, I don’t have a Ph.D. yet. Don’t call me Penelope. We’re not friends. If you think this will be an easy first day of class where I talk you through the syllabus, you’re wrong. Get out your textbook and start writing down notes for this class.” 

You could sense the change in the air. This professor meant business. We couldn’t slack around. I quickly pulled out my psychology textbook from my book bag as well as my notebook with a blue pen. She started to write things on the board. She was totally old school. “You might not take this class as a serious science class, but I expect you all to be taking it seriously because it’s just as important as any other subject or other areas of science. No matter what other professors tell you.” She continued her lecture as she added notes on the board.

Midway through class, I already knew this would be a different kind of intro class. There would be the basics in the beginning, but ultimately it would focus more on memories, and how everything in psychology connects memory. I couldn’t help asking a question. “What draws you to memories?” I asked. 

“It is the most interesting part of psychology. It’s even focused on your favorite detective stories. Think about Sherlock’s mind palace. You can create one yourself. You can close your eyes and imagine a room and place objects into that room to help you remember things. It’s called the method of loci. If we order things correctly in our minds, we can remember everything we need and forget only things that aren’t important. Who wouldn’t want to do that?” 

It seemed like everyone in the class thought that was a question to answer because I noticed many started raising their hands in agreement with the question posed. Instead of making Professor Castellanos annoyed, she smiled and then added, “If there’s that much interest, you all might want to sign up for the upcoming psychological study being done on campus. Besides helping science, you’ll get paid too.” Whispers started happening after that. She rolled her eyes. “Since you all are now distracted, I think it’s time to wrap up class. Check the flyer by the door for more information.” 

It sounded too good to be true, but when I checked the flyer, it pointed out what my professor said. It would be paid. Would it be worth the money?  

Episode 3: Season 1: Casting Call

Did you think I went straight to the study? No, I went to research what it was about. I couldn’t find anything besides the flyer that was presented during class. I thought maybe they would give me more information if I went in person. So I went down to the building far down the island that no one rarely went to. I only noticed it from my exploration of the campus. As I entered the building, everything looked as expected. There was a lobby where people were waiting and offices nearby. 

I went to the front desk and asked about the study. The lady said, “Yes, that’s what everyone else is waiting for. Here are the papers. You’ll be called in as soon as they can get to you for the interview.” Then she waved me away. I was puzzled at first, but she directed me to those behind me and I noticed a few others were now waiting in line. Where did they come from? None of the faces looked familiar as I looked around, but it was the beginning of my first semester. 

I sat and began writing down what I could through the forms. It was like I was in a doctor’s office with all the information they were asking for. I should have been concerned about sharing it, but it was a campus study. They wouldn’t share student information with companies or strange individuals. As I waited, I felt like I was surrounded by people auditioning for the latest musical. Besides filling out the forms passed out, they looked like they were mumbling what they would say as if they knew what questions would be asked with the interview. Others were calm as if this was a regular job interview that they would pass with flying colors. 

I had no idea what they would ask. Plus what more could they ask after asking for almost all our personal information, including medical and mental care. Maybe they needed to know what kind of people we were, to get a diverse selection. There was no way of knowing what would make me special from everyone else. I was sure that others had dealt with worse trauma than I did. Or were more unique in personality. I couldn’t figure out what would make me stand out. What if I were disqualified even before I reached the interview? Why did it matter anyway? There are other jobs available on campus. I just needed to find them. Those wouldn’t ask me to provide a detailed life history and unearth my past. 

But not once did I step out to shred my filled-out forms. I completed them without one error and submitted the papers to the front desk. The lady smiled and returned to her duties as if suggesting that I go back and sit down. The more I waited and people went through the office for the interviews until the lobby was almost empty. It was as if I was being left for last. I worked up the courage as they called my name and went towards the doorway into the room. It was a basic office with a desk along with a desktop computer, but besides that, there was nothing else to determine the kind of person that would be interviewing me. The woman who directed me to sit down in front of her seemed to be middle-aged and her glasses gave her a sophistication, as much as her two-piece grey suit. 

I waited for her to tell me something or ask a question, but she just looked at me as if there was something about how I looked that caused her to remember something. Finally, after a bit of time, she spoke. “What made you decide to do this study?” She asked. The question caused my mind to go blank. They would ask something like that. I had all the time to prepare a response earlier. 

“Um, I need to get through college,” I told her. 

“Why can’t you go through financial aid? Or work on campus?” She asked. 

“I don’t think I can afford the loans. I hoped that this study would give me more time to study for my classes than those jobs would,” I said. 

“That’s understandable, but what drew you to this study,” she asked. 

“I heard about it during my psychology class,” I said. 

“Are you planning on majoring in psychology? Or a minor?” 

“I hadn’t thought about it. I’m still trying to decide,” I said. 

“This study could help you in that college focus.” She looked directly at me to see my interest, but I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything she was reading from. Did she come up with questions on her own? Did she memorize them? Before I could figure her out, she asked another question. 

“What trauma led you to this study?” 

“My parents died recently when I graduated high school,” I said. There was a part of me already expecting some kind of sympathy for my hardship, as others at my alma mater did during the ceremony of my graduation. None of my family was there. I couldn’t contact anyone else outside of my parents because they never told me the contact information. They kept their past a mystery from me. I didn’t realize until I lost them how much I didn’t know about them. 

“Is that all?” she asked casually. It threw me out of my thoughts. So my pain was minor to her? Or not enough for the study? All I could do was nod. 

“That’s good enough. We’ll call you,” she said. I couldn’t believe the words. Did it mean they would accept my submission to join? I couldn’t ponder longer because I was being directed away by another lady to head out the door towards the exit. It was as if there was some emergency, but no one was around. I could only hope that I was picked because I had no idea what other job I would do on campus.  

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