“That sounds pretty unbearable.” I want to take away her hurt but I don ’t know how. “I can ’t imagine the kind of pain you live in.”
Inez smiles through her tears. “But you have pain, too. I can see it.”
“It ’s nothing, ” I shake my head.
“Pain is pain. It all hurts. So tell me about yours.”
“I ’m just—out sick a lot. With asthma.” My voice falters. Inez is serious about killing herself. What can I say to change her mind? “Asthma is so common now it doesn ’t sound like anything. But I have it really bad. I never stop thinking about how quickly I can go from being okay to having a really bad attack—and even dying.”
“That must be so scary, ” Inez says.
I chew on my lip. I don ’t know if I should say what ’s in my head or not. I shrug. “I think about dying a lot. Every time I have an attack, I feel like I ’m being strangled. Sometimes I have to fight to live. But I never want to give up.”
Inez’s eyes glisten. “I don ’t want to give up, either—at least not most of the time. When some of the kids at school sent me death threats, it just made me want to fight harder. But then...I was gang-raped.”
“That ’s horrible!” I say. “Beyond wrong. I ’m really sorry that happened to you.” I shift on the hard chair, the wood creaking. “I know my pain doesn ’t even compare to yours, but I ’ve almost died a few times, and besides the terror, what I remember most was how upset my family was. How fragile they looked. Like a gust of wind could flatten them.”
Inez doesn’t say anything; she just nods at me to go on. I lick my dry lips and keep talking. “I know your pain is bad; worse than I can ever imagine. But you have the chance to live—to show those disgusting creeps that you ’re not going to let them get the better of you. You have the chance to be happy. To find someone you love. To do things that make you feel alive.”
I stop when my voice becomes shaky. I ’ve never said this to anyone before. “There was a girl in the hospital with me—she had asthma, too. She died when she was ten. I think of her every day. It could have been me. So I try to do what makes me happy. And I want to make a positive difference, too. And spend all the time I can with the people I love. The people who are here with me now.”
“Thank you, ” Inez says, her voice breaking. “You ’re right.” She leans over and squeezes my hand. “I knew you were a good one when Gil started talking about you. I ’m glad you came. Gil is right to like you.”
“Thanks, Inez.” I get up and try to smile at her, not knowing if I ’ve helped or made things worse. But at least she talked to me. That ’s got to be something.
I grab a pen off her desk and scribble on a piece of paper. “Listen—if you ever want to talk or anything—this is my number.”
Inez holds onto it tightly as we say goodbye.
I walk out of her room—and bump right into Gil. He grabs me and blushes. He must have been standing there listening the whole time.
“Come on. I ’ll walk you home, ” he says.
EIGHT
Outside, the sky is a bright, clear blue and the sun is warm on my skin. We walk in silence for a block, passing people walking their dogs or coming home from work, old men smoking, and kids carrying instrument cases or sports bags. Cars drive past in both directions at a steady pace as rush hour gets underway.
Gil touches my arm. “Thanks for speaking so honestly with Inez. You were amazing; I think it ’ll help.”
I knew he’d listened in! “I hope so, ” I say. “I like her.”
“Yeah, Inez is a sweetheart. Never hurt anyone. She used to be so upbeat before that whole mess at school, and then those assholes assaulting her. It ’s a good sign she came out to meet you. She doesn ’t seem to care about much anymore.”
“She cares about you and Nana.”
“Yeah, ” Gil says shortly. “Listen—” He gestures widely with his arm, almost hitting my head, “Sorry! Uh, do you want to hang out sometime? I mean, when we ’re not trying to save one of our sisters?”
My heart beats faster. “Yeah. I ’d like that.”
Gil’s solemn face breaks into a smile. “Great! That ’s great. I wasn ’t sure—”
“I wasn ’t sure, either.”
Gil stops walking to stare at me. “But—I ’ve tried to tell you so many times.”
“You have? When?” I ask, my breath hitching.
“When I offered to carry your backpack. When I ’d hold the door open for you, or offer you a stick of gum.”
“I thought you were just being nice to the sick girl.”
“Being nice?” Gil scratches his head. “I try to be a good guy—but Kate, that was me being interested in you. For months.”
He looks so dumbfounded I have to laugh. “I guess you have to be a little less subtle with me.”
“Less subtle. Got it, ” Gil says. Then he leans in to kiss me.
His lips are soft and gentle as they slide across mine. My whole body tingles.
Gil pulls away to look at me. I tug him back, and kiss him again. It feels so good—better than I can remember anything ever feeling.
I have to pull away to catch my breath. “Wow.”
“Wow?” Gil lightly smoothes his thumb against my hot cheek.
“Wow.” I grin at him. “But wait—how could you not know I liked you?”
“What should I have seen?” Gil asks, smiling.
“Me staring at you all the time. Me trying to be near you, like running on the track with you and setting off an attack. And how about today—when I told Jenna you were my boyfriend?”
“I thought you were just covering up why we were really there. I didn ’t think you meant it—though I was hoping.”
“I see I ’m going to have to be less subtle with you, too, ” I say, grinning.
Gil laughs and grabs my hand, swinging it as we walk, the sun warm on our backs. “You never seemed to care. All the other girls flutter around me.”
“I don ’t flutter, ” I say dryly.
“I know. That ’s one of the things I like about you.”
“No fluttering. Got it.”
“Hey, just be yourself. I like who you are, Kate.”
“I like who you are, too, ” I say. I feel so light I think I could fly.
We turn the corner onto my street. “My house is just up there—fifth one on the right, ” I say, pointing at our narrow three-story brick house, painted a sky blue.
Gil whistles. “Nice place, ” he says, and I know he ’s thinking of his family ’s small apartment.
“Your place felt homey and warm, ” I say.
“Yeah, it ’s the people in it that really matter.” Gil leans forward and kisses me again and it feels just as good as it did last time.
I pull away reluctantly. I don ’t want to go—but I don ’t want Mom to look down the street and see us kissing before I tell her about him.
Gil squeezes my hand. “Let me know how your sister is. If we have to follow up, we will.”
“Promise.” I kiss him again, then hurry up the street. Mom ’s car is already parked in front of our house, but Dad ’s isn ’t here yet. A cool breeze chills the warmth from my skin, the sky turning a gun-metal grey.
A car door swings open so close it brushes against my knee.
I jump back as Mason gets out, blocking my way. I curse myself for not noticing.
“Sorry, Kate. I didn ’t mean to scare you, ” Mason says, holding up his grimy hands. “Can I talk to you a minute?”
I look over my shoulder, but Gil is already gone, the street deserted. An empty cigarette pack skitters across the road, pushed by the wind.
“Sure, ” I say nervously. This close to Mason, I ’m aware of how much bigger he is than I am. His chest muscles strain against his T-shirt and his arms are thick and ropey .
“What was that today?” Mason says, taking off his cap and rubbing the top of his head. “Your dropping in unannounced? I thought you knew you should call first.”
“Sometimes I just need to see Jenna.”
Mason slaps his cap against his thigh. “I ’m really worried about her—she ’s been so stressed lately—and you ’re not helping. Dissing our relationship, telling her she can ’t trust me—you ’re not acting like a friend. Not like the sister I know you are.”
His eyes look pained, and he keeps shifting from foot to foot, like he ’s uncomfortable with what he ’s saying. He has an almost haunted look on his face. He doesn ’t look like a man who beats his wife.
“I know you love her, ” he says, “But sometimes we don ’t see what we ’re doing to the people who are closest to us. I ’ve come to ask you to stop hurting her.”
My cheeks sting. “I ’m not the one who ’s hurting her.” Am I?
“I love Jenna. I would never do anything to hurt her, ” Mason says. “She ’s the best thing in my life!”
I never actually saw him hitting Jenna—except in my mind ’s eye.
“She seems so unhappy right now, ” I say .
“That ’s what I ’m trying to tell you!”
It feels surreal to be standing here, having this conversation, when he tried to kill Jenna only a few hours ago. But I didn ’t actually see it happen. And Mason looks so concerned for her. Maybe I really am hallucinating it all.
But my visions feel so real. And I was right about Inez....
“Will you stop lying to Jenna?” Mason asks, sounding hopeful.
I can’t promise that. Not if my visions are real. But are they? “I promise I ’m trying to look out for her, ” I say.
“That ’s what I ’m trying to do, ” Mason says bitterly.
But I don’t know if I can believe him.
NINE
Mason and Jenna arrive at our house together, as if Mason hadn ’t been waiting for me only an hour earlier. Jenna ’s smile is too bright and brittle, and she ’s moving a little too carefully. Mason hovers next to her, like it hurts not to breathe in her air. His hair is combed back, he ’s switched his T-shirt for a dress shirt, and he stinks of mouthwash—to cover up his smoking. I can feel Mom and Dad watching them, trying not to look like they are.
“It smells good in here, ” Jenna says cheerfully. “I know it ’s vegetarian, ” she glances at me, “But what is it?”
Another thing to resent me for—Mom going vegetarian for my health.
“Quiche, ” Mom says. “Hope you like quiche, Mason.”
“Oh, I ’ll eat anything, ma ’am, ” Mason says, smiling an aw-shucks smile.
“Good man, ” Dad says, clapping Mason on the shoulder. “That ’s the right answer.”
“Jenna, how are you doing?” I ask.
“Jenna ’s just fine, ” Mason says, pulling Jenna closer. Jenna smiles brightly. “In fact, she ’s more than fine. She ’s pregnant!”
“Jenna!” Mom cries and rushes to hug her.
Dad’s face gets all red and he pumps Mason ’s hand up and down, then hugs Jenna like she ’s a delicate flower he might crush.
“Congratulations, ” I say, hugging her hard. I try to smile, but I can ’t keep the worry from crowding out everything else. If Mason is beating her now, what ’s he going to do when the baby ’s born? A wailing, attention-demanding baby?
“I was going to tell you myself, ” Jenna says, squeezing my arm. “Are you happy for me?”
“You know I am, ” I say. But how can she stay with him now?
“I would have made something special if I had known...., ” Mom says.
“It ’s fine, Mom. Whatever you made is great, ” Jenna says.
“How far along are you?” Mom asks, resting her hand on Jenna ’s belly.
“Just twelve weeks. We wanted to wait until we passed that point to tell you.”
Three months. And if my visions are real, Mason kicked her in the stomach while she was pregnant—never mind that he tried to kill her. It ’s amazing she didn ’t have a miscarriage. I grit my teeth, wishing I could get her away from him and somewhere safe.
“Have you told Asha and Rina yet?” I ask. Maybe her friends can talk some sense into her.
“You ’re the first we ’ve told, aside from my mom, ” Mason says, resting his hand on the back of Jenna ’s neck.
“I ’ve kind of drifted apart from my friends, ” Jenna says. “We don ’t have that much in common anymore.”
“Oh, you ’ll have to call them and tell them your news!” Mom says. “They ’ll be so happy for you!”
“I ’m happy for her—enough to light up the world, ” Mason says.
“I know you are.” Mom pats his hand. “Now come along, everyone! Let ’s eat.”
Mom leads the way into the dining room. She ’s put cloth napkins out on the table, the way she does for company, a bowl of salad, and French bread. Mason pulls out Jenna ’s chair for her and she looks up at him gratefully, like he just did something wonderful. I try not to roll my eyes.
Mason takes a seat across from me. He and Dad start laughing away, talking about football and cars as they eat. Mom and Jenna talk about the books they ’re reading. I don ’t know how Mom ’s going to get any time to talk to Jenna alone. Mason is so attentive, always getting Jenna anything she might want before she even asks. Soon Mom starts clearing the dishes. Jenna gets up to help her and I ’m relieved—maybe they ’ll have a minute to talk now. But then Mason jumps up, taking his glass and Dad ’s, and joins them in the kitchen.
I scowl after him.
“Be happy for Jenna, Kate, ” Dad says. “She ’s starting a family.”
How can I be happy for her if she ’s in danger?
Mason, Jenna, and Mom come back carrying bowls of apple crumble.
Just as I’m spooning up a piece of the sweet apple, Mason clears his throat.
“This is real hard to say, but I don ’t know how else to do this except to just say it.” He points his spoon at me, and looks at my dad. “Do you know your daughter thinks she sees visions? And that she can predict the future?”
I’m sitting right here, jerk.
Mom freezes, her spoon midair. Dad pauses, mid-chew, and tugs his cuffs down.
“Yes. Yes, we do, ” Mom says.
“Have you considered that maybe there ’s something medically wrong with her?” Mason leans forward. Outside, thunder rumbles. “Jenna says she only gets these ‘visions ’ when she has an asthma attack. Maybe it ’s hypoxia.”
I stiffen. That’s what the doctor told Mason in the vision.
Mason shakes his head. “I wouldn ’t be bringing this up, but there ’s things she ’s been saying lately about me and Jenna that upset Jenna and it ’s got me worried. Don ’t you think you should get Kate checked out?”
My body grows cold. He ’s trying to discredit me.
Jenna bows her head, her hair hiding her face.
“It ’s not your place to tell us how to raise our daughter, ” Dad says, wagging his spoon at Mason. A piece of apple drops onto the tablecloth.
“I ’m sorry, sir, but I disagree. When her behavior hurts my wife, it ’s my business.” Mason turns to me. “I ’ve arranged an appointment with a specialist. If you would just see him—”
I can hardly believe this is happening. I look at Jenna. Say something!
Jenna raises her head. “You should go see the doctor, ” she says softly, her eyes pleading with me. “What can it hurt?”
Has she forgotten all those months after the police and social workers invading our home? Mom and Dad ’s sadness, their anger, their silence? The way they barely looked at me? I haven ’t. “I ’m not crazy, ” I say, my voice shaking.
“I didn ’t say crazy, ” Mason says. “This could be medical, something completely out of your control. But it should be looked at—if only for your health.”
Right. Play the health card . I glance at Mom. Her face is still and tight, her eyes darting back and forth between us all.
“That ’s enough!” Dad rams his chair back and stands. “Who do you think you are to come her
e and tell us how to raise our daughter?” he shouts. “Kate is just fine!”
“Ian, ” Mom says, tugging his arm, “Sit down.”
“I disagree, sir, ” Mason says, still sitting, leaning back in his chair like he owns the place. “She ’s causing Jenna a lot of pain.”
Oh, that’s rich. I ’m causing the pain. I glance over at Jenna. Her head is bowed, her hands clenched in her lap.
“Jenna, tell him I ’m not crazy, ” I say. “You know I didn ’t make it up.”
Jenna raises her head, her eyes brimming over. Her gaze darts to Mason, then back to me.
“Jenna can ’t tell you that, Kate, ” Mason says, “Because it ’s not true.”
“I wasn ’t asking you, Mason. I was asking Jenna, ” I say. “Jenna?”
Jenna shakes her head, her eyes pleading. “You have to stop this.” A tear slides down her cheek. “It ’s not fair to me and Mason.”
“There. You see how hard this is on Jenna?” Mason asks.
Outside, lightning cracks, making me jump. Rain beats on the windows.
“She made Jenna cry again.” Mason stands, knocking over his wine glass, red staining the tablecloth in a widening pool. “You need to get your daughter under control.” He grips Jenna ’s shoulder. “Come on, babe. Let ’s go home, ” he says, and holds out his hand.
Jenna lets him help her up and leans into him, like he ’s sheltering her from a strong wind.
Mom stands, too, her twisted napkin in her hand. “Please don ’t go, Jenna. Mason. I know you ’re upset, but let ’s try to work this out. We love you.”
“You have a funny way of showing your love, ” Mason says, guiding Jenna out of the living room, his arm around her. “You play favorites and Jenna ’s always come last. Why should I be surprised it ’s no different now?”
His words punch my gut.
“That ’s not true, ” Mom says, but Jenna and Mason are already out the door. “Drive safe!” she yells, but I doubt they heard her over the storm.
Mom comes back and plunks herself down in her chair, staring vacantly at the table. “What just happened?”
Parallel Visions Page 5
