The Rift In Our Reality: A Sweet Young Adult Romance

by Amy Proebstel

  He turned to face me. “Hey, what’re you in here for?”

  “Just getting some tests done. What about you?” Oh man, could I have asked something any dumber? I can feel my cheeks starting to get warm, and my fingers continue to fidget with my phone.

  “My brother just got diagnosed with a rare disease. They’re seeing if he’s a candidate for any experimental treatments.”

  “That sucks. I hope it works out.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What’s his disease? Maybe I’ve heard of it.”

  “I’m sure you haven’t. It only affects like 1:100,000 births.”

  “Try me.”

  “Batten.”

  My heart skipped a beat as I held my breath in pain. I already know what his family is facing. I know the hard road ahead of them. I have to answer him. “I’ve heard of it.”

  “No way. You’re just saying that.”

  “That’s why I’m here. I’ve got Batten as well.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, you’re pretty old for it. Don’t you think?”

  A blurt of laughter escaped my mouth. I don’t even know this guy, and already he thinks he’s an expert on something I’ve been dealing with for nine years. Who does he think he is? “I think I’d know.”

  I’m pretty sure the boy would have continued with the conversation, but his brother’s doctor arrived, and the family turned their attention to him. My nurse, Taylor, chose that moment to come and take me away. As she wheeled me past the boy’s bed and out of the room, my fingers unconsciously rubbed my lucky pendant as I whispered, “Please, God, be there for this little boy.”

  Chapter Three

  I’VE REACHED THE favorite part of my school day. History class. Not only is it the last class of my day, but it also happens to be the only class I have with all of my friends. It feels more like a reunion than an actual class.

  As usual, Jay has taken her seat on my right. She’s really shy, to the point where you can easily forget she’s in the room. Unless the teacher asks her a question about history. Then she lights up and becomes a veritable encyclopedia, amid groans of disgust from most of our classmates.

  I love it, though. If Jay’s talking, then I know I’m less likely to get called on. That sounds self-serving, but let’s face it, I don’t like studying. Jay continually offers to help me study, but I’d rather do just about anything other than think about history class when I wasn’t forced to do so. Sorry, Jay!

  It took me a while to figure out what it was about Jay that caused us to click so easily, considering she’s my only girlfriend. One day it just hit me. She hates the idea of the future; she lives for the past. I can totally relate.

  The idea of my future is something which feels like too much trouble. All of my best days have been part of my past. Each new day is more tiring than the last. But for Jay, I’m sure her future includes becoming a history professor or something along those lines.

  Right behind me sits Jackson Smith. He’s already just over six feet tall, so his long legs are usually stretched out. Occasionally, when I tuck my feet under the chair, they collide with his. I don’t mind. He can’t help it if he’s so Goliath. Besides, his size might come in handy if he ends up going into the FBI when he graduates.

  He’s already decided on his codename. JB Smith. Well, I think we might have decided for him since he’s not the only Jackson in our small circle of friends. Like all of us, he’s really easy-going about the whole naming business.

  We often tease him that he’ll have to find undercover FBI gigs where he can sit in a car; otherwise, he won’t be able to blend in with the crowd unless he investigates a basketball team.

  He hates jokes about that. People always expect him to be good at basketball, just because he’s tall. He prefers bowling, of all things. He’s even really good at it. Someday, I know he’ll figure out how to combine bowling and the FBI.

  My best friend, whom you’ve already heard about, sits on my left. He’s named Jackson O’Neil. If I have anything to say about it, he’s going to be an Oscar-winning movie producer one day. After all of the movies we’ve produced over the years, he’ll certainly have enough practice at directing unmanageable actors.

  In fact, we have another production scheduled for later this afternoon. I’m sure you’ll hear more about that soon enough. So, I tap my fingers impatiently on my desk as I wait for the bell to ring letting us know we’re finally being released from class. My internal clock is telling me it’s almost time.

  My stomach let out a loud growl just as the class grew quiet. Jackson chuckled beside me. I know he’s probably not the only one to have heard it.

  Right on cue, JB cleared his throat and mumbled, “Nice one,” from behind his hand covering his mouth. I’ve given up being embarrassed by such trivialities. Besides, what could I have done to prevent it?

  Just as my classmates begin to laugh at my expense, the bell rings, and I’m immediately forgotten in their haste to escape to lunch. I, on the other hand, get to go home. As a group, we leave the room to put our stuff back in the lockers.

  “Is Hunter ready for today’s shoot?” Jackson asked, excited for the second day of cloudy weather to finish the previously abandoned shoot because of the untimely sunshine.

  “I think so, but he’s going to be getting home late. Dad needed his help at work right after school today.”

  “Oh, man! Can’t he get out of it? What if the sun comes out and ruins everything? Who knows how long we’ll have to wait again before we can film the final epic battle of the zombies?”

  I placed my hand on his arm to console him. He easily worked himself up when his production schedule didn’t go as he planned. “I’m sure he’ll be fast. Speaking of which, I’ve got to hustle. The bus won’t wait forever for me.” I shoved my books into our locker and waited for him to walk with me.

  I felt him move to shut the locker, letting me know he was ready to go. As usual, he led the way, while I fell into step slightly behind him, but mostly beside him. He hated the way the other students would purposely run into me just because I couldn’t see straight ahead of me.

  Unlike Jackson, I never even heard their snide comments about me leaving on the ‘short bus.’ Although, I usually knew when something had been said because Jackson’s arm would tense as he balled his hands into fists in frustration. Leaning forward, I said, “It’s okay, Jackson. They’re just stupid kids.”

  “I wish you’d let me rearrange their faces for them,” Jackson muttered, mostly for himself.

  He knew how I felt about violence. Besides, my reasons were purely selfish. “No way. Then you’d get suspended, and I wouldn’t have anyone to keep me company.”

  I could feel him begin to relax as I restated my normal comeback to this perpetual problem. “Besides, Jackson, think of it this way.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I may be going on the short bus, but I’m the one leaving this place. They get to stay here for the rest of the day. So who’s the special one after all?”

  “You’ve always been special to me, Haley.” Jackson’s hand reached over and patted mine where it still rested on his other arm.

  “I know. You’re my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you!” I knew that’s not what he wanted to hear, but it was the best I could do for him. He felt like a brother to me, nothing more.

  Jackson led me straight to the door of the bus.

  “See you tomorrow, Jackson,” the driver called out over my shoulder to my escort as I entered the bus. I knew the first seat would be vacant, as that was my designated seat. Penny, the bus driver, liked Jackson and repeatedly told me I should date him. Sometimes, I think she just liked giving me a hard time because I always blushed at this comment.

  The drive home was unusually quiet. It gave me time to think about the people in my life. I kept coming back to my motley group of friends at school. We were all misfits of a sort. Jay was the quiet nerd. JB was too tall for his own good. Jackson was…well, J
ackson. He caused his own drama, especially with all the videos he made of that puppet his grandmother gave him. Luckily, we finally convinced him to start making other video productions. It was starting to get weird having a fifteen-year-old playing with a hand puppet.

  Then there was me. I was the blind girl. The only student with a visible disability in the school. I probably should have been transferred to the blind school, but I wanted to stay with Jackson. Then I ended up meeting our other friends.

  We had our place in the school. Someone had to make up the misfit group. Why not us? At least we were good kids. That’s more than a lot of other parents could say about their ‘cool’ kids. Our parents always knew where to find us.

  It was really easy for me. I got lost simply leaving my driveway. I stayed right where I was supposed to. That is unless I had Jackson, JB, or Jay to guide me somewhere new.

  I felt the bus turn onto our driveway. There was a dip in the road only on the passenger side, followed almost immediately by a couple of deep cracks which made a unique thumping sound on the tires. I pulled my jacket closer around me as I prepared for the cold air of outside.

  “See you tomorrow,” Penny announced, as she reached over to push the door latch open.

  I heard the squeak of the rubber gaskets of the door resting against the inside frame. I stood up and answered, “See you,” as I made my way down the steps.

  Penny was an expert at navigating the bus. She always parked in exactly the same place, so I never had to worry about tripping over anything. I felt the walkway under my feet and walked the thirteen steps to the front door.

  I let myself in and then heard Penny rev the engine to leave. She always made sure I made it inside before she left. She insisted it was because of the liability, but I think it’s because she loves the kids she drives home. I think of her as extended family. She’s pretty cool.

  The house was quiet, which was a good thing. As exhausted as I felt, I knew a nap was the first task on my afternoon agenda right after I ate lunch. Knowing the grueling production schedule Jackson had planned for this evening, I was going to need all the rest I could get if I were going to play my part even half-way convincingly.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The side of my bed dropped down alarmingly. I groaned as I realized my nap was officially over. “Is it that time already?”

  “Yep. Time to get up, sleepyhead. I’ve already got everything all set up outside. All by myself, I might add.”

  “Hunter’s not home yet?” I sat up, pushing my unruly hair out of my face.

  “He just got here. He’s getting changed as we speak.”

  “Well, that’s good. I’d hate to have to deal with your rotten mood if we couldn’t get this filmed today.”

  “Very funny. Come on; I’ve got to get your makeup on. The light’s perfect outside. We’ve got to hurry.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

  “And cut!” Jackson called out just before letting out a whoop of happiness.

  I smiled at his enthusiasm. This was the reason I went along with all his crazy schemes. I loved making him happy.

  “That was our best production ever,” Hunter practically yelled in his excitement.

  “Totally awesome!” Jackson agreed.

  I heard a loud crack and assumed Jackson and Hunter were congratulating themselves with a high five. I rolled over onto my side from where I’d been ‘murdered’ on the grass in the final epic scene of the zombie apocalypse. The fake blood was drying all over my body, and I felt disgusting.

  “You know, I sure miss making the talent shows and fashion exhibits,” I called out to them. I knew they would have some snide comments to make about that.

  “Come on! This was so epic,” Hunter argued.

  “As far as I can see, this film only had one advantage over those original ones.” I stood up, facing where I’d last heard the boys.

  “Yeah; what’s that?” Hunter challenged.

  I lifted my arm to my mouth and took a long lick of the fake blood made up of colored chocolate syrup. I smirked as I heard the gagging sounds from the boys. That was my cue. “This makeup tastes much better.” I chuckled as I left the boys to take care of the equipment while I went inside to take a desperately needed shower.

  Chapter Four

  I USED TO think I had bionic hearing because of my sight loss. But I’ve learned from Hunter that I’m not the only one who can hear my parents fighting. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not very often, but it’s still sad when it happens.

  Whenever my parents go down to the basement for ‘adult conversations’ we know it’s usually about one of us. Tonight it’s my turn; not anything I’ve done in particular, more because of me. I lean over the vent near the head of my bed to catch it all.

  “That stupid insurance company denied Haley’s tests again! How do they expect us to come up with that kind of money every time the researchers need another sample?” Mom said, her voice rising throughout until she almost yelled at the end.

  “We’ll make it work, hon. Don’t worry,” Dad replied, his voice low and harder to hear.

  “Don’t worry? That’s your solution? Where’s this money supposed to come from? Did you see how much they’re charging us? It’s insane!”

  “I’ll just have to take on more clients.”

  “That just means you’ll be spending more time away or we’ll have to spend money on hiring more workers. Either way, we’re still not going to have enough by the time this bill is due.”

  “Then I’ll ask my dad for help.”

  “I don’t want to ask him for help. This’s our problem, not his!”

  “I think you need a time out,” Dad said.

  I already knew where this was going, so I wasn’t surprised when Hunter came into my room and sat down beside me on the bed.

  He put his hand on my knee and said, “This isn’t about you, Haley.”

  I didn’t want to be consoled. Here Mom was getting a time out simply because she was scared about our finances. Time outs were only given when the other person thought something might be said which would be regretted later or when they needed to calm down before continuing the discussion. This was because of me. I shook my head and said, “They’re arguing about paying for the tests I had to take. How is this not about me?”

  “It’s about the insurance companies.”

  “Yeah, because of me. I hate all of this!” I couldn’t stay seated any longer; I had to move. I began pacing my room until my foot crunched down on the hair clip I must have dropped. “Ouch, ouch!” I cried out, picking up my foot and rubbing the tender spot right in the middle.

  Hunter knelt and retrieved the offending clip. I could feel him next to me as well as smell the cologne he liked to drown himself in.

  “Do you think I’ll ever be done with all these tests?” I returned to my bed, already tired from my little outburst. I rested my ankle on my knee as my fingers continued to knead the sore spot.

  “Actually, yes. I heard Mom talking on the phone with the research lab. They’re in the final stages of the gene replacement therapy. They think you’re the perfect candidate for it. That’s why they needed this latest round of scans to be sure.”

  “Gene replacement therapy. I’ve had that done once already, but I’m still not better.”

  “Well, you’re still alive. Besides, technology has improved a lot in the last six years. All the money your foundation has raised has made a huge difference.”

  “I wish some of that money could’ve helped with my medical bills.”

  “Our parents have the money.”

  “You mean they used to. It’s getting harder and harder for them to cover everything.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  “You sound like Dad.”

  “Really? Cool. I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Ha. Ha.” I was just about to add more, but then I heard the front door slam. Only one person did that around here, and he wasted no time getting to my
bedroom.

  “Hey, did you know there’re people moving into the Peterson’s old house?” Jackson asked, not bothering to see if he were interrupting.

  “No, but I noticed they took down the ‘For Sale’ sign last week. Did you get a look at who the new people are?” Hunter asked.

  “Not really. But I think they’re old because I saw them moving a hospital bed in through the front door.”

  “Great,” Hunter sighed, clearly disappointed. “I’m going to go edit some videos in my room. See ya.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Jackson asked, coming to sit beside me on my bed.

  “He’s just bummed because Mom and Dad are fighting about my medical bills again.”

  “Oh. That sucks. Hey, are you about ready to go? We don’t have much time.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost seven. Sorry, I got stuck in traffic.”

  “Good grief! Why didn’t Hunter mention anything when he was talking to me?” I stood up, trying to remember what I was wearing. Not that it really mattered much what I wore to the support group meeting.

  “You look fine. C’mon; let’s get out of here. Your sandals are at two o’clock.”

  Jackson always made it so easy to forget I was almost completely blind. I never had to teach him how to be helpful; it just came to him like second nature. Using his direction, I unerringly grabbed my sandals and slipped them on.

  Feeling rushed, I said, “Fine by me. Although, I think you just want another chance to gawk at the Peterson’s house. You’re probably hoping for a pretty girl to move in so you can flirt with her.” I couldn’t help teasing him; he just made it way too easy.

  “Yeah. You know me; the player for sure.”

  Jackson grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the house and into his big Ford truck. As soon as he started the engine, he turned up the radio. He clearly didn’t want to talk. Maybe I’d gone too far with the girl joke.

  The silent ride gave me plenty of time to contemplate the night’s entertainment. I hated going to the support groups, but I did it to make my parents happy. They seemed to think it’d help me if I talked with other kids with terminal illnesses. It didn’t.