The Forgotten Genius: Rising From Ruin

Chanel dragged the bags to the main road outside the estate walls. Her arms burned. Her ankle throbbed.

The rain started. It wasn't a romantic shower. It was a cold, miserable drizzle that soaked through her torn dress in seconds.

She sat on her bags under the small glass shelter of a bus stop. She was shivering uncontrollably.

She checked her phone. 15% battery.

She scrolled through her contacts. Names flashed by. Socialites. Party friends. People who would laugh at her.

She stopped at a name: Jojo Vance.

She didn't have a face for the name, but looking at it triggered a warm, fuzzy feeling in her chest. It felt safe.

She texted: SOS. I have nowhere to go.

Three dots appeared immediately.

The phone rang.

Chanel? I saw the news. Are you okay? The voice was rough, concerned.

Chanel's voice cracked. They kicked me out, Jojo.

Send me your location. I'm coming.

Chanel waited for forty-five minutes. She fought off panic. She fought off the cold.

A beat-up Honda Civic pulled up, screeching to a halt. The muffler was loud.

A girl jumped out. She had bright pink hair and a leather jacket covered in patches.

Jojo looked at Chanel's dress, the bruises, the trash bags.

Holy shit, they actually did it, Jojo whispered.

She pulled Chanel into a fierce hug. Chanel stiffened, then melted. It was the first human touch she had received that wasn't violent or clinical.

They loaded the bags into the messy backseat of the Honda.

Jojo drove fast, cursing the Maldonados with creative profanity the whole way.

Why are you helping me? Chanel asked, staring out the window. Everyone says I'm awful.

Jojo glanced at her. Because you paid for my mom's surgery two years ago, you idiot. You just don't brag about it.

Chanel was stunned. I did?

Yeah. Amnesia, right? We have a lot to catch up on.

They arrived at a brick apartment building in Queens. It was a fourth-floor walk-up.

They hauled the bags up the narrow stairs.

The apartment was small and cluttered, but it was warm. It smelled of vanilla and old books.

Jojo gave Chanel a clean towel and an oversized t-shirt.

Chanel showered. She washed off the hospital smell, the rain, and the feeling of her mother's hand on her face.

When she stepped out, Jojo had made instant ramen.

Dinner of champions, Jojo grinned.

Chanel took the bowl. The warmth seeped into her hands. She took a bite. It tasted better than any banquet food she could remember.