Page 103 of The Revenge Game
Justin
“You didn’t recognize her at first, did you?” Drew is studying me with an intense expression, like I’m a complex equation suddenly revealing an unexpected solution.
The festive chaos of Winter Wonderland swirls around us, but all I can focus on is the way Drew’s forehead is creasing.
My face flushes under his scrutiny.
“No, I didn’t recognize her,” I say quietly.
Drew just continues to stare at me like I’m one of those British customs he can’t quite wrap his head around.
“This is going to sound weird, but I really struggle to recognize people sometimes.” I duck my head, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Especially when they’re out of context.”
Bobby Ray’s voice lives on in my head at moments like this. “You better be normal, kid.”
Bobby Ray is not here with me. Drew is.
And I know Drew is perfectly okay with who I am.
When I get the courage to look back at him, Drew’s not watching me like I’m some kind of freak. Instead, he’s frantically scrolling on his phone.
He glances up at me, his chest rising and falling.
“Does it happen to you a lot?” he asks.
“I…” I trail off because how do I explain something I’ve never talked about before? “Yeah, it does. I mean, I’m terrible with faces. Always have been.”
Drew continues scrolling on his phone. “Do you rely on other things besides faces to recognize people? Like their voice, how they walk, or what they’re wearing?”
“How did you know that?” The chestnuts are growing cold in my hands as memories flood back. All those awkward moments when someone waved at me and I had no idea who they were until they spoke. The times I’ve walked straight past people I should know.
“And in photos?” Drew asks, his eyes still glued to his screen. “Is it harder to recognize people in photos than in real life?”
“God, yes.” I huff out a laugh. “My mom used to get frustrated because I could never identify people in photos. And I struggle with movies too. I have to wait until characters speak before I can tell who’s who.”
Drew looks up at me, and his expression is weird. His hand is trembling as he grips his phone.
I’m suddenly alarmed. “What is it?”
“I think you might have prosopagnosia. It’s also called face blindness,” he says the words quietly like they hold extra gravity.
“Face blindness?” I repeat the term like it’s a foreign language. “That’s… That’s actually a thing?”
“Here.” Drew turns his phone screen toward me. “Read this.”
I scan the medical website he’s pulled up, my chest tightening as I recognize every symptom listed.
Difficulty recognizing people out of context.
Relying on voice, gait, and clothing to identify others.
