Parallel Visions (6 page)

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.

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.
”