“What do you mean?” Mom asks.
“I told you. Mason ’s hurting her.”
“Breathe slowly, honey. We ’re trying to understand.”
I’m wheezing louder, my chest tight and heavy. “It ’s not hard to understand! He ’s beating her.”
“Did Jenna tell you that?” Dad asks.
“No. But that doesn ’t mean anything!”
“Kate, honey, calm down, ” Dad says. “You know Mason is not my favorite person—far from it. But if something like this were happening, Jenna would tell me.”
“Right, because she used to tell you everything. But that was before Mason!”
Mom plays with her watch, unbuckling it and then buckling it back up again. She knows I ’m right—Jenna has grown more and more distant from all of us since she and Mason got together.
“Jenna and I still talk, ” Dad says. “Kate, you can ’t let yourself get worked up like this. You know it just makes your asthma worse.”
Maybe that’s not such a bad thing if it helps me prove Jenna ’s in danger. But I hate struggling for air, and feeling like I might die. Knowing I can .
“I ’m telling you the truth.” I scrape back my chair and stand, wheezing. “When are you going to start believing me?” I wheeze louder, my airways squeezing tight, and then I ’m gasping.
Mom already has my spare inhaler out and primed. She pushes it into my hand and I squeeze down, inhaling as deep as I can before I wheeze again.
The living room grows fuzzy, Mom and Dad becoming hazy spots of color and light. I fight it, but I ’m still pulled deeper, my pulse hammering in my neck, the room blurring in front of me, the vision sharpening.
Mason walks down a long hall with a man in a white coat. “I ’m really worried about my wife ’s sister, Kate. She thinks she sees the future every time she has an asthma attack. I don ’t know if she ’s hallucinating, or psychotic, or what. Do you think you can help her?”
The doctor rubs his chin. “Well, it could be something as simple as hypoxia, a lack of oxygen to the brain during her attacks. But I ’d have to examine her to be sure.”
Hypoxia? Lack of oxygen? Is this my brain ’s way of telling me that my visions are nothing more than hallucinations? Or am I really seeing something Mason has done?
Mom’s rubbing my back, talking to me in that calm voice she uses when I have my attacks. It always makes me feel like I can breathe easier before I actually can. Meanwhile, Dad ’s sitting there stiffly, watching us. I take another puff from my inhaler.
“My wife ’s so worried about Kate that she ’s not sleeping, ” Mason says. “So if I bring Kate in, you ’ll see her?”
“Well, yes, if you can manage to bring her in, I ’ll fit her into my schedule. But from what you ’ve said, it doesn ’t sound like she ’ll want to come voluntarily.”
“I ’ll find a way to get her here, ” Mason tells him.
“Then I ’ll see her.”
Mason clasps the doctor ’s hand. “Thank you, doctor! You don ’t know how much I appreciate this.”
It’s hard to believe Mason would do that; he ’s never been anything but nice to me. But he is overprotective of Jenna. And there ’s a tiny part of me that never felt quite sure about him—but maybe that ’s because he took Jenna away from me. Or maybe I am hallucinating.
But the glass in the frame was smashed. Doesn ’t that prove my visions are real? Unless I ’d subconsciously noticed it on my last visit and the vision was my mind ’s way of trying to make sense of it.
Air starts to come easier now and I gasp it in.
“Getting better?” Mom says, rubbing my back.
I nod.
I sink back onto my seat, my legs rubbery and weak like they get sometimes after an attack. Two attacks in one day is a lot. Mom hovers around me for a moment and then sits.
Dad leans forward. “You okay now, Kate-girl?”
I nod.
“Good. That ’s good.” Dad leans back and straightens his tie. “Listen, you ’ve got to be able to control your asthma, even when something upsets you. Because there ’s always going to be things that upset you in your life.”
I shove at my spaghetti with my fork. “I know. I haven ’t had an attack for a while until today.” Yeah, like maybe a whole week.
“Your mom and I are on your side. No matter what you do, we love you. But it ’s Jenna ’s word against yours on this. And if you are making this up, or you ’ve got the details wrong for whatever reason, it ’s better to let us know now, before things go too far.”
I clench my inhaler. What ’s too far? Jenna ending up in the hospital, or worse?
“I ’m telling the truth.” I stand. “I ’m going to lie down. I ’m tired.”
“Kate—” Mom starts to get up.
“Let her go, ” Dad says.
I climb the stairs to my room and slam my door closed.
“Leave it open!” Mom calls. “I want to know if you need me in the middle of the night. And don ’t forget your last dose of medicine!”
I open my door a crack, then flop down on my bed. My “Keep Calm and Breathe Deeply ” poster that Dad bought me stares mockingly at me. I pull out the scrap of paper Gil gave me and text him. “Parents don ’t believe visions. Starting 2 doubt them.”
My phone vibrates almost immediately. “Don ’t doubt! U were right abt Inez. She ’s thinking of suicide.”
“God. Sorry.”
“No. It ’s good. At least she ’s talking. Hope it ’s enuf .”
“Hope so 2. But keep watch.”
“Yes. What visions don ’t parents believe?”
“That sister ’s husband beats her.”
“That ’s serious. U have to do something.”
“Parents don ’t believe. Jenna denies it. What next?”
“Call the cops.”
I go cold. I can’t go through that again. My parents can ’t, either. I see the flashing lights, the officers ’ suspicious looks, hear the radios squawking. “I can ’t.”
“Y not?”
I don’t want to go there. “Just not an option.”
“K. We ’ll brainstorm 2morrow.”
“Thanx . Nite .” I text.
“Nite .”
I feel calmer already, knowing Gil believes me, knowing we ’ll figure this out together.
There’s a knock on my door. Mom pokes her head in. “How ’s your breathing?”
“Fine. The inhaler worked. I ’m sorry about before.”
Mom walks in and sits down on my bed. “What are you sorry for? It ’s not your fault you have asthma.”
“I don ’t like it when you and Dad fight.”
Mom squeezes my leg. “We just have different beliefs about how to help you. But we both love you. You know that, don ’t you?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Okay, then.” Mom pats my leg and stands. “Don ’t forget to take your meds before bed.”
“Yeah, yeah, ” I say.
Mom closes my door part way.
I pick up my cell again, staring at our texts. Gil has my back. I grin at my ceiling. We might even become friends!
The rumble of my parents ’ voices downstairs is comforting. I lean my head back against my pillow and close my eyes.
FIVE
I wake up in the middle of an asthma attack.
I sit up, gasping, trying to breathe. It feels like somebody ’s stitched my throat shut.
I kick off my blanket, fumble for my inhaler and breathe in hard, trying to keep my hands from trembling. Panic only makes it worse, but it ’s hard to stay calm when I know I could die. I cough harder.
My room grows fuzzy, colors and shapes rearranging themselves to show me a different scene .
Mason presses Jenna up against the wall, his arm rammed against her throat, cutting off her air. “Your sister is ruining everything. You have to stop her—or I will.”
Jenna shakes her head, gagging.
Mason loosens his grip.
“Mason
, you ’re scaring me, ” Jenna says, rubbing her neck.
I cough. Oh shit. I don ’t like where this is going.
Mom comes running in, her nightgown rustling. She flicks on the light and sits on my bed, then rubs my back. “You ’ve taken a puff?”
I nod, coughing harder. I don ’t have enough air to talk.
“It ’s not helping enough, is it?” Mom grabs my nebulizer from the side of the bed, snaps open a vial of medication and dumps it in the cup, hooking it up to the hose. I cough and cough, praying for air. Mom turns on the nebulizer. I can hear the hum over my wheezing. When I see the misty spray of the medication escaping, I grab the mask and slap it onto my face, trying to breathe through the coughing .
“Okay. You ’re okay now. Just breathe deeply, ” Mom says.
Dad comes to stand in the doorway wearing just his pajama bottoms. He looks worried, his hair sticking up, his hand tight against the doorframe.
Dad blurs in front of me.
“I ’m scaring you? You should be scared of your crazy sister. She ’s trying to break us up.”
“Just leave her alone, Mason.”
“I ’m your husband!” Mason roars. He slaps her so hard, her head snaps back. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.
Mason slaps her again, his watch flashing, reflecting the light. “You put your sister over me?” He grabs her head and smashes it against the wall, again and again. When he stops, Jenna ’s limp body slides down to the floor, her eyes wide and staring, her face still.
“Jenna! No! Speak to me, Jenna!”
Mason cradles her head and rocks her, sobbing, but she doesn ’t move.
Oh my god. He killed her! He killed Jenna!
My lungs ache like they ’ve been turned inside out. I cough, trying to breathe. I can ’t let this happen—unless it already did. Damn it, I have to find out when this vision happens. But how?
My thoughts race. His watch! I ’ve got to see it. Got to get back into that vision!
I’ve never done that before. I don ’t know if it ’ll work, but I ’ve got to try.
I cough, then cough again, forcing the medication out of my lungs, focusing on Mason slapping Jenna ’s face.
Nothing . The attack ’s easing off. I cough harder—forcing it, trying to see Mason snapping Jenna ’s head back.
“Breathe, ” Mom says anxiously.
Guilt floods me for worrying her. And then I ’m back in Jenna ’s apartment.
Mason slaps her face again, his watch flashing in the light.
I slow the vision down. I can see his watch, but not the full face. I stop the vision, my chest heaving, pain searing through my brain, and turn the vision like a photo, until I can read the watch face. Two-forty-five pm Tues . I did it! But oh my god—that ’s today!
“Kate!” Mom is crying. “Breathe!”
I gulp air, pain stabbing my lungs like broken glass. The mist fills my mouth and nose. Mom rubs my back. Even though I usually want her to stop hovering, right now I ’m glad she ’s here.
I can feel the medication working. My lungs ease up a little, clench less—but every breath hurts. I suck in as much medication and air as I can.
I didn’t know I could do that—relive a vision, slow it down, even turn it to see another angle. It ’s kind of amazing. But it ’s made such a deep pain in my chest, I almost don ’t want to breathe. I had to do it, to save Jenna. I just never want to do it again.
The medication sputters out and I take off the mask. I breathe in tentatively and only cough a little. I rub my aching chest.
“You had me worried for a while there, ” Mom says.
“I ’ll go make you some hot water with lemon and honey, ” Dad says, smacking my door frame. “That always helps your throat.”
“Thanks, ” I croak as he leaves. I turn to Mom. “I forgot to take—” I take a breath, “—my night meds.” My voice is hoarse and throaty from all that coughing.
“That ’s not like you, Kate, ” Mom says, her eyebrows furrowing.
“I was so tired after the other attack, I just fell asleep.” I cough, then rub my chest. “And...I was distracted. Worried.” With good reason! Mason is going to kill Jenna today—unless I stop him.
“About Jenna?”
“Yes.”
Mom sighs and clasps my hand in hers. “You really believe Mason is hurting her?”
“I know he is!” I cough again.
“Deep breaths, ” she tells me. “Don ’t go getting yourself all upset again.” Mom squeezes my hand. “Okay. I ’ll invite Jenna and Mason over for dinner tonight. I ’ll get Jenna on her own and talk to her.”
I know she doesn’t really believe me—but at least she ’s trying.
I take a deep breath, cough again. “Thanks.”
“You ’ll stop worrying, now?”
I shake my head. “I can ’t, Mom. I know you don ’t believe my visions—but I do.” At least I do right now.
“I know you do.” Mom kisses my forehead. “And if something is really happening, Jenna will tell us. Now get some sleep. We can talk about this more tomorrow.” She turns off my nebulizer and gets up from my bed. She ’s got that army-sergeant look about her, now: firm, rigid, and controlled.
“After school?”
“You ’re not going to school, missy, ” Mom says, wagging her finger at me. “Not after three attacks in one day!”
“Mom, I have to! Please? I have my inhaler. I promise I ’ll remember all my medication—”
“Why do you have to?” She sits back down.
Mom won’t question where I am if I slip out of school early to get to Jenna ’s. But if I stay home, I never know when she ’ll call or pop in. I go for the truths I don ’t normally tell her. “I ’m out so much, it ’s like I don ’t belong there. It ’s hard to make friends. Annnnd there ’s this boy I like...”
“Ah. A boy, ” Mom says, smiling. She smoothes back my hair. “He ’ll still be there when you get back on Wednesday.”
I bunch up my sheet. “But it ’s so much harder every time I ’m out. No one talks to me. I ’m the sick girl who misses school all the time, and wheezes when she ’s there. And I have to scramble to catch up with all the work I missed. I ’m always behind and I hate it.”
“I know you do, ” Mom says, her eyes tearing up.
“Please, Mom—just let me go to school. I ’ll be careful. If I have an attack, I ’ll call you and you can take me home.”
“We ’ll see. I ’ll check your peak air flow in the morning. If it ’s in the yellow or red zones, you ’re staying home. If it ’s green, you can go.”
“But it ’s yellow so often! You know I can still be okay.”
“We ’ll see, ” Mom says. “Now get some rest.”
I’m too jumpy to rest. I pull out my origami paper and start folding butterflies and flying pigs. It ’s a technique a nurse showed me to help calm me down after a really bad attack. The folds have to be precise to work, and they take a lot of concentration. If you do it right, you get a beautiful figure out of paper. The flying pig is my favorite—impossible, just like me. I fold until I can ’t keep my eyes open any more.
SIX
I hold out my peak flow meter to Mom. “See? Pretty good! It ’s closer to green than to red.”
“Uh huh, ” Mom says, pursing her lips.
“I ’ll be fine. I promise.” I clasp my hands together. “Please, please let me go and be normal for once.”
Mom laughs. “Okay, Kate. Go and be normal. But you feel an attack coming on, use your inhaler right away. Don ’t wait. And please call me.”
“Aye, aye, captain!” I say, saluting. I kiss her and rush out the door before she can change her mind.
Gil’s already in the school parking lot, leaning against the fence, his face tilted up toward the sun. The hazy morning light makes him look beautiful, almost ethereal. He pulls out his ear-buds and walks over to meet me. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I say back. I can feel other students
watching us, especially the girls. But even some of the boys playing basketball or sitting on the stairs smoking glance at us. I turn my back to the parking lot and watch the cars and bicyclists rush past.
“How ’s your sister?” I say.
“Still depressed. But she seemed relieved to talk about it. I told her about you and your visions—there ’s no way I ’d have known, otherwise. And she wants to meet you.”
“Uh—” I don ’t know what to say. I didn ’t expect him to tell anyone. But I didn ’t tell him it was a secret, either. And at least his family believes me.
Gil holds up his hands. “Before you say anything, I want you to know...” His face reddens. “My sister, Inez. She was—um, she was raped a few months ago. She got really depressed. Not showering, not eating, not doing anything, hardly. She hasn ’t left the house at all since it happened.”
“I ’m so sorry to hear it, ” I say softly.
Another student walks past, looking at us curiously. Gil takes my arm and leads me away from the fence. “She won ’t talk to anyone except Nana and me, and won ’t even see a counselor. Her asking to see you—it ’s the first time she ’s shown an interest in anything or anybody since…the night it happened.”
“Of course I ’ll come see her.” I push my hair out of my eyes. “I don ’t know how I can help, but I ’ll come. I should be free around four for an hour or two. My sister and her husband are coming to dinner later.” If she ’s still alive, that is.
“Thank you, Kate, ” Gil says, pressing my hand between both of his like a prayer. “I can ’t tell you how grateful I am. My sister—I ’d do anything for her.”
Behind us, boys hoot.
Gil’s ears grow red and he lets go of my hand.
“I ’d do anything for my sister, too, ” I say.
A bus roars by, pumping out exhaust. I turn my head away, trying not to inhale any of it .
“Have you talked to her about her husband beating her?” Gil asks after it ’s quiet again.
“Yes, but she says nothing ’s happening. I don ’t know how to help her!”
Parallel Visions Page 3
