In My Head

by Alicia Rades

  “Well, I was thinking, if you had something like that, would the program be able to read your thoughts?”

  “You’re not turning into a conspiracy theorist, are you?”

  “What? No. I’m just saying . . .”

  “I suppose in theory, a program like that could. I mean, we’re able to transfer simple thoughts into commands, so why not be able to read your thoughts? But the ethics committee would never allow that. We would especially never allow a program like that to store your thoughts that you didn’t share with it freely.”

  I nod in understanding, but I still have so many questions. I want to tell my dad about Parker, but what if he isn’t a result of the implant? What if he’s just a figment of my imagination?

  “I’ve also been wondering about the call function on our implants. Would it ever be possible to create a sort of psychic link between two people so they could communicate on a different level than what we have now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I think about how when Parker talks to me in my head, it feels different than when Mom and I tested out our calling function. “Could they communicate, like, directly through the program, more efficiently? Maybe by thinking things to each other rather than by speaking out loud.”

  “I suppose in theory, it would work, but we aren’t that far yet. Why the sudden interest?”

  “I, uh, have just been thinking about my implant and want to understand the extent of its capabilities.”

  That seems like enough of an explanation for my father, and he goes back to eating.

  I’m not entirely sure what these answers mean in regards to Parker. He can’t be a computer program since he knew about J.P. when I never said anything, right? Or, what if an error slipped through the ethics committee? But Dad said they didn’t have that type of therapist program. He also said they were far away from creating types of psychic connections. I have no idea what to make of this! That means he’s just a figment of my imagination, right? But he feels so genuine.

  I go to bed thinking about Parker and the possibilities of his identity.

  9

  I wake on Tuesday feeling like I know less about Parker’s identity than I did the night before. This only frustrates me and makes the ache in my head pulse more intensely. I want to know. I have to know.

  Maybe I already do…

  Carter, I decide. It has to be him. I mean, it makes the most sense. Mahone hasn’t even come up with the idea for a computer-generated therapist, so that can’t be it. Carter has the implant like me, and it’s still in the testing stage. What if there’s a glitch that connects us? Then there’s always the possibility that I’m crazy and making Parker up, but that doesn’t explain why some things Parker said matched up with some things Carter said, like calling me pretty.

  I let out a soft laugh at that thought as I get ready for school. If Carter thought I was pretty, he had to be the only one. It’s just not possible that two guys would say the same thing to me in the same day.

  But I still have to know for sure. I could confront Carter at school. Or maybe it’s best to talk with Parker about his identity while I’m in private.

  Later that day, I sit silently at my lunch table and still haven’t decided how to confirm my suspicions. I avoid all gazes and poke at my food. Across the table, I can see J.P. in my peripheral vision doing that thing he does where he opens his mouth like he’s going to speak and then closes it again.

  I start to get annoyed. He must have opened his mouth six times already without saying anything. Normally I don’t mind, but my headache makes every little thing seem more annoying.

  “What?” I snap more aggressive than I mean to.

  J.P. looks taken aback and blinks a few times. He rests his hand on the side of his neck as he speaks. “I—I’m just kind of worried about you, I guess. You don’t look good.”

  Of course I don’t. My head is pounding, and I’m pretty sure I’ve started sweating. Why do I have to be so stressed out?

  “I’m fine,” I tell him.

  “Are you sure? Because you look pretty pale.”

  “Yes, J.P. I’m fine. It’s just a headache.” I grit my teeth. It’s nice he cares, but I don’t understand why he does.

  When he doesn’t say anything else, I stand to dump my tray. My headache is only getting worse, and I feel like I need a moment outside the noisy lunch room. I recycle my tray and am headed for the cafeteria exit past Ariel’s table when my feet catch on something and I’m sent flying. I stick my hands out to catch myself, and they make a loud smack on the hard floor as I tumble down.

  Laughter erupts from around me. I look toward my feet to see what I tripped on. One of the guys at Ariel’s table grins down at me mischievously, and I instantly know he did it on purpose. People stand to get a good look at me on the ground, and their eyes all glare at me judgmentally. I feel like disappearing. Just as I’m about to push myself up and run off, a figure approaches and stands above me. I lift my head slowly, and Ariel stares back at me, her hands on her hips.

  “Is your implant throwing off your balance?” Ariel asks in the fakest voice I’ve ever heard.

  Great, I think. Go right after my implant, why don’t you?

  All I want to do is run from the lunch room. Everybody’s eyes are on Ariel and me. I’m not sure if that means I should get out of here as soon as possible like I feel like doing or actually stand up to her. I decide to go with the former decision; it will only be easier. But as I pull myself up and get ready to run, Ariel starts talking again.

  “Don’t forget to tell your daddy about this. I’m sure he can build in a coordination function just for you for your next upgrade.”

  People snicker from the table next to me.

  I do my best to let it go, but the headache pounding on the sides of my skull makes me bold. Ariel just pulled the last straw.

  “I’ll be sure to tell him about it,” I say, and I pause just long enough that a smirk forms across Ariel’s face. “Then he can build in an anti-bitch function for you.”

  Everyone in the lunchroom inhales a simultaneous breath. A few people let out noises that confirm I just crossed some sort of line, but I hardly notice. I can’t believe I said that. Ariel opens her mouth to say something back, but I’m already turning away.

  I push through the cafeteria doors and head toward the bathrooms. Right now, the stress headache that has been plaguing me for days is too intense to make anything else matter. I want to revel in my little bout of courage and success, but I lean up against a wall instead and take a deep breath.

  “Mila,” I hear a voice behind me.

  For a second, I think it’s Parker, but when I turn, I find it was Carter who spoke my name.

  It has to be him, I think. It only makes sense.

  “Parker,” I say in a near whisper. What I really mean to do is ask him if he is Parker, but confronting Ariel made me lose all my nerve.

  “Look,” Carter says, “it was wrong of Ariel to pick on you like that. To be honest, it was really cool what you did back there. She needs someone to tell her off every once in a while.”

  I narrow my eyes a bit. I can’t figure him out. So what if he is Parker? What would he want with me?

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask. My voice is still quiet as if to reflect my low confidence. “Why do you care about me?” I raise my eyes sheepishly to meet his gaze.

  Carter looks confused for a second. “I want you to know that we’re not all as insensitive as Ariel.” Carter takes a step toward me. “I’ll admit it. I didn’t care much until I got the upgrade this time around. I guess since we both have it, I feel a sort of connection with you, you know?”

  I do, I think. He has to be talking about how our implants are linked, only his words bring up another question. If he knew about the connection, why did he give me a different name? Why didn’t he just tell me he was Carter to begin with and we could have sorted out the connection earlier?
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  I lean against the wall for support as the pounding in my head intensifies.

  “I don’t think it’s fair that people treat you the way they do,” Carter says. “I guess as a fellow beta tester, I feel this need to let them see that, and maybe let you see that people are willing to hang out with you if you’d let them.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me your real name to begin with?” I blurt. Seriously, I still can’t figure him out.

  He looks momentarily confused, but the next moment, I don’t have the energy to focus on his answer.

  “I’m going to be sick,” I announce, and I immediately run for the bathroom. Since it’s a ladies’ room only, Carter doesn’t follow.

  I hear him ask if I’m okay through the door, and I assure him I’ll be fine on my own.

  I stay hunched over the toilet for a few minutes until the bell rings. Although I’m starving now, I’m relieved that my little episode helped clear my head for the most part.

  But that doesn’t seem to be the end of my troubles. As the day goes on, it seems more and more people are talking about my confrontation with Ariel. Nobody says anything directly to me, but I can tell that people are whispering about it in my afternoon classes.

  Later that afternoon, Parker’s—Carter’s?—voice resonates through my head.

  “Are you okay, Mila?”

  I look around nervously. I can’t talk with him here, not in front of all these people. Not now, I want to say to Parker.

  “Now’s as good of time as ever,” he says, and I’m completely taken off guard.

  You can hear my thoughts? I ask without speaking out loud. I look around again. No one can tell what’s going on, can they?

  “Only what you want me to hear,” he tells me.

  Right now, I want you out of my head, I think at him. My headache is starting to come back, and I really don’t think the middle of a mathematics lecture is the right time to be having this conversation.

  “I’m just trying to help,” he says.

  I breathe an audible sigh. I understand, I say truthfully. But I don’t know how much I want to talk about what happened earlier today.

  “I’m sorry. You’re in class. I shouldn’t have bothered you right now. Will you tell me about it later?”

  I crack a light smile at how sincere and kind he sounds. He really does sound concerned for me, but how can I talk to him now when I’m supposed to be taking notes? Math isn’t exactly my best subject—history is my favorite—so I try to pay extra attention in this class.

  Yes, I tell him. We can talk about it later.

  A small part of me expects Carter to meet up with me sometime after school to finish talking to me, but I don’t spot him the rest of the day. I’m partially relieved that I don’t have to talk with him, but another part of me wants to get to the bottom of our “connection.” I still can’t figure out why he told me his name was Parker. Unless I heard him wrong…

  By the end of the day, Carter’s nowhere in sight, so I hop on my bike and pedal home, relieved to escape my classmates’ stares.

  10

  I get home and don’t even say hello to my mom before I fall into bed and curl into a ball. That’s something I’ve wanted to do all day. Not only was tripping in the lunchroom and having everyone laugh at me humiliating enough, but then I had to go tell Ariel off. That only seemed to add fuel to the fire and make things worse.

  I won’t go to school tomorrow. I can’t, right? I pull the bed sheet above my head and want nothing more than to fall asleep and forget my troubles, but just then, Parker’s voice cuts through the silence.

  “Are you ready to talk about what happened?”

  I sigh. I suppose I should talk about it or I’ll just end up with a worse headache than I already have. “You were there,” I say out loud. “You saw how bad it was.”

  “It wasn’t as bad as you think it was, Mila. You came off looking like the good guy.”

  “I don’t know about that. I felt humiliated.”

  “You’re not the first person Ariel has humiliated.”

  I guess he had a point. “But how does everyone else get past it?” I ask. “They’re all different than me. Everyone else actually has friends to talk to about this kind of stuff.”

  “So do you.”

  I scoff. “In case you haven’t been paying attention, I don’t have any friends.”

  “You have me,” he says in a way that nearly melts my heart.

  “You think we’re friends?”

  “Of course we are,” he says.

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Carter thinks we’re friends? He really meant what he said about feeling connected to me, didn’t he?

  “If we’re friends,” I say, “then you’ll help me take my mind off all this, right?”

  “Anything to make you feel better,” he answers. “By the way, how are you feeling?”

  “Just a headache,” I say, but I immediately jump into something more exciting. “I don’t mean to bore you, but I always feel better after reading about or watching documentaries on history. My dad’s really big into old technology—says it shows him where he’s going with Mahone—and so I kind of get into it in a big way like he does.”

  “I know,” Carter says. I notice for a moment how I’ve started thinking of him as Carter instead of Parker.

  I excitedly get out of bed and head toward my bookshelf that’s filled with historical books and articles I printed off. I tell him all these wonderful stories about how people used to live their lives and what they used to eat.

  “French fries,” I say. As I get further into our conversation, I realize how comfortable I’m getting with him. That hardly seems possible. Me? Not only talking with Carter, but feeling like I can?

  “They were these deep fried potato wedges people would eat all the time with their hamburgers,” I continue, “and because they were so high in calories, they made people really fat. But I’ve read about healthy foods, too. There were peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. They’re kind of like those sweet sandwiches we sometimes have at lunch, but people would spread the peanut butter and jelly on their bread themselves. I don’t know what it tastes like, but I bet it’s good. I wonder where you can get peanut butter nowadays. Do you think they still make it somewhere?”

  The question is rhetorical, but Carter answers anyway. “I bet they do. You realize people still make food from scratch, right?”

  “What?” I ask like I’m the dumbest person in the world. If they did, why hasn’t my mom—who enjoys as much cooking as she can get—figured out how to make things from scratch?

  “Well, where do you think your food comes from?” He had me there.

  I think about it for a second, although my headache still clouds my mind. “I guess people do have to farm the food like they did in the old days. I guess I haven’t really thought about how much work would go into it.”

  “Maybe we could take an adventure someday and see the farm fields for ourselves,” Carter suggests.

  I nearly choke. Is he asking me on a date? Or is he suggesting we take some sort of vacation down the road? I find that somewhat unbelievable. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Why not?”

  “Guys like you don’t ask for things like that from girls like me. What are you playing at?”

  “What do you mean, ‘guys like me?’”

  “We don’t mix, Carter. I know you said that thing about our implants, but—“

  “You think I’m Carter? Carter Hayes?”

  I freeze for a moment. The realization that I got it wrong sends the pounding in my head into overdrive. “You mean, you’re not?”

  “Not Carter Hayes? I told you my name is Parker.”

  I think back to school and rack my brain trying to pinpoint exactly who Parker could be. I don’t think I know any Parker, yet he acted like he saw what happened in the lunch room, and he knows who Carter Hayes is, so he has to be someon
e from school, right? But I don’t know everyone’s names. Is there even a Parker at my school?

  Parker… Parker who?

  “You’re not the guy who sits at the lunch table next to mine and picks his nose, are you?” I ask, almost horrified.

  “Nope, not him.”

  I can’t think of any Parker. Is it possible that he is a part of my subconscious?

  “Then what are you?” I ask. “A part of my subconscious? A computer program?” My head pulses as the possibilities race through it.

  “I think it’s best if I told you in person,” Parker says.

  So that confirms it. He is a real person. But who? And how?

  “Are you the kid in my math class who’s a grade younger than me? I hear he’s good at hacking into computers.”

  “Mila, if you haven’t figured it out by now, you never will. Meet me at the Fountain at six and I’ll explain everything.”

  “Okay,” I agree.

  My head pounds hard in anticipation, but I manage to get out of bed and make my way to my car in the garage a few hours later. I tell it to drive me to the Fountain. No matter how hard my head is pounding now, I have to figure out this mystery, and it only frustrates me that I can’t figure it out on my own. I hate that the stress of the situation only intensifies the headache.

  I park my small car along the street and make my way over to the water fountain. I look around briefly and wonder which guy could be Parker, but no one catches my eye. Maybe he’s not here yet. I take a seat on the edge of the structure and look around again. That’s when I spot blonde hair and blue eyes coming my way.

  “Carter?” I say in surprise as I stand up.

  It can’t be him. I mean, everything about it made sense, but Parker told me he wasn’t Carter. Was he lying to me?

  “Mila,” Carter greets, but I can’t read his expression.

  Is he the one who told me to meet him here, or is he here by chance? Trying to understand the situation makes my head pulse. I push a hand to my temple in an attempt to reduce the pain.

  “I don’t get it,” I complain out loud.