One Wish Away (16 page)

“Maybe we should just wish for our troops to all come home from war,” Carl says from the other side of the table.

Morgan nods. “That's a good thought, but that wouldn't help our cause. Those wishing the country harm would still be there, torturing the people who live there. Planning their next attack. Possibly on our soil.” Morgan rests his elbows on the table and looks around the room. “Ms. Altair, what do you think?”

I look at my aunt who's looking at… me. My head whips to the Secretary.

“Uh… well… I…” Why does he always ask me?

Secretary Morgan stands and gestures to me. “Certainly, you must have an opinion.”

I clear my throat and pray my voice doesn't sound like a five year old who's scared of her grandfather. “I don't know a lot about foreign affairs, but what I know about the fighting in Syria is that in many ways the rhetoric is almost more dangerous than the actual fighting itself. The indoctrination being spread is more lethal than the weapons.” I take a deep breath, thankful I sounded much more confident than I felt, as I glance at those around the table. Some are listening, others still computing. “In my opinion it would be better if the extremist beliefs were never taught.”

And of course the farther back in history we go to change something, the more things will be affected by it and the more our current reality will be altered. That's what those computers are telling the scientists right now.

“I agree.” Secretary Morgan looks at my dad and aunt. “We're going to create a world where the people terrorizing Syrian lives, were never born. This will end the war, making their country, ours, and the world a much safer place.”

Wishing for people to never be given life was not exactly what I was suggesting.

“Can the StarCatcher handle the amount of energy we'd need for this?” Morgan looks at Dad.

“We'll have to run the simulations but in thinking back to our extensive experiments I believe we've run hypothetical situations like this before and been successful.”

“Good. Keep me posted.”

“Does anyone else feel like we're playing God here?” Iris says, not a waver in her voice as she addresses the room and then looks to the Secretary. Carl gives a firm nod. A few others do a half-nod, shrug thing.

“I don't even know if I believe in God, but that's not the question.” Iris continued. “The question is whether we're overstepping our bounds in what we're wishing for.”

“I suppose we are, in a way.” Morgan tilts his head. “But that's unavoidable with the machine you've developed, Dr. Shepherd. That's what we've already started doing.”

Iris shakes her head and presses one elegant finger into the tabletop. “That's not what I'm getting at. I thought we would focus on taking away the general population's suffering. You know, diseases, poverty.” She pauses and gives him a cocky shrug. “Perhaps our National Debt.” Her finger returns to the table, as if she's squishing a bug. “It seems rather bold of us to wipe people off the face of the planet.”

Morgan places his fist on the table, Bennett leans in too, shifting his eyes between the two of them. Morgan told me he likes the challenge, welcomes the debate, when we were waiting for the last wish to be conducted.

“What's the difference if we kill these horrible people with a bullet to the head versus an alteration in reality?”

The question floats in the room as everyone looks at each other. Bennett's eyebrows rise and he crosses his arms over his chest, a small tug on his lips. I expect Morgan to move on with a smug look that says he won, but he asks Iris, “Do you have a better suggestion to create a more peaceful world?”

Iris shakes her head, both hands in her lap. “I think we have to be careful. That's all.”

Morgan doesn't move for a good thirty seconds. Then he gives her a firm nod and stands erect. “I hear your concerns, Dr. Shepherd. And believe me when I say I do ponder the same thing. But we've got to think about the greater good.” He clears his throat and focuses on the rest in the room. “The decisions made in this room are never going to be easy. And I'm not going to pretend like they haven't already been heavily influenced by the people who fund this project.”

He's talking about the White House.

“But every opinion in this room matters. So thank you.” He looks at Iris. “And even though this decision makes us uncomfortable, it's the right one.”

Coach Organatti blows his whistle as he enters, basketball in hand. I tug at the sleeves on my gym uniform. I glance at Tiffany. Unlike her toned, tan arms, mine are stick-thin with a universe of freckles.

“As you were all told last week, we're starting our basketball unit today.” Groans trickle through the students. “I know you're all excited about it.” Coach Organatti shakes his head and glances at those of his team that are in our class.

“If any of you have previously been on a basketball team or are currently on one, please go to that side of the gym. Those who have no idea what they're doing, head to the far court and start shooting around.”

I fall into stride with Darren, one of the few guys who have the balls to admit he hasn't really played.

“I'm going to get these folks started in a game and be over to explain the rules in a few.
Don't
stand around,” Coach Organatti warns the group that has no talent when it comes to dribbling and shooting a basketball.

Always a stickler for the rules, I pick up a ball and take a shot, making sure to square my shoulders to the basket and follow through with a flick of the wrist.

“Nice shot, Lyra!” Darren yells, and everyone on our court looks at me.

My eyes grow large, a warning for him to stop drawing attention to me. “Thanks.”

“Lucky shot,” someone behind me mumbles.

My eyes narrow as I bend down to pick up another ball. Square my shoulders. Bend my knees. Release at the top of the jump.

Darren whistles as another goes in.

“Was that lucky too?” I turn and face my classmates, not sure which one said anything in the first place. I go to say the next thing on my mind when Coach comes over and taps me on my shoulder.

“Altair. Looks like you know what you're doing. Over on that court. They need one more and could use some estrogen.”

I freeze and look at Darren for help but there's no sign he's going to convince Coach I belong here on the court for the hopeless. “But Coach—”

“Altair. Go play some hoops.”

My head falls to my chest as I take small steps, dragging my feet.

“And think about trying out for the team next year. They could use a shooting guard.”

The next half hour isn't as bad as I thought it would be. The guys actually pass me the ball and the other girls, Hannah and Josie, who I'm fairly certain I've never spoken to, compliment me on my shots.

Sweat drips down the side of my face, my long ponytail sticks to my arms. It's strange. I like the feeling of my heart pumping in my chest and the slight burn in my throat.

“You're pretty good, Altair.” Josie places her hand on my shoulder, and I turn to face her, craning my neck since I'm only a mere 5'3'' and she's got to be at least 6'1''.

“Thanks.”

Our game is done so the ten of us are killing time for the last few minutes. Shooting around, some of the guys are trying alley-oops and slam-dunks. Josie shakes her head as Phil tries to set Jim up for a shot and misses.

There's that awkward moment where I know it's my turn to say something but can't come up with anything to say. This happens too often and is the main reason I don't bother talking with my classmates.

But there's got to be something safe.

“You're really good at basketball, Josie. I've watched a few of your games.”

“You have? That's crazy. There aren't many people that come to the girl's games.” Josie gives me a look of appreciation, then turns back to the hoop and sinks a beautiful three point shot.

Okay, that was good
.
Think of another question, Lyra.

“How did you learn to play?”

Josie grabs a ball off the ground and rests it on her hip, brushing her braids out of her face. “My dad taught me. We used to spend hours shooting hoops in our driveway. He'd force me to hit ten shots in a row, each one harder than the last, before we could go in for dinner.” A small chuckle leaves her lips and her eyes meet mine again. “Mom would be so pissed if I was having an off day. Dinner would be cold by the time we got in. But it paid off.” She shrugs and takes another shot.

“Yeah, starting varsity center as a sophomore. I'd say it paid off. Your dad must be proud.”

“He is.” The smile on her face falters and she looks to the lights above. I follow her gaze. I blink away the dark spots on my eyes from staring at the lights too long. “He died three years ago.” She takes a look over her shoulder at Coach, still yelling at the kids on the other court.

Great, Lyra. Way to bring up a conversation that forces her to talk about her dead father.

“I-I'm so sorry. I didn't know.”

She shakes it off. “It was a while ago.” Forces a smile. “It gets easier.”

“Yeah,” I manage. That's all I can think to say.

I reach down to grab the basketball and when I stand up, vertigo takes over. The world tilts a little and comes to a point in my vision. I put a hand out to try and balance, take a deep breath through my nose.

With a few blinks, the world stabilizes. I glance at Josie who's looking at me, slightly confused.

I shake my head a bit, look at the basket, and then back at her. What were we talking about?

Josie gives me a light punch on my shoulder. “Oh! Daddy's having a tenth anniversary party at Gary's Drive-In. I can't believe his diner's been open for ten years already.” She tilts her head. “You should come, Lyra. Bring some friends. Food and drinks are gonna be real cheap. Live music.”

She turns away and heads over to talk with Hannah and the guys. I've heard mumblings about Josie's dad having a huge party at his diner this Friday but I never thought I'd get invited.

I never get invited to anything.

I realize Josie is just being nice. She doesn't care whether I go or not. But I did get invited.

I'm sure Darren will go with me. Thinking about it makes me want to speed up time.

Maybe someday we'll do that too.

I think Dad forgot about me.

So here I sit on the school doorstep, watching those with a license flirt by their cars. Actually, I think that group back there is smoking pot. The boy's track team is practicing in incredibly short shorts.

That's not so bad to watch. They do have really toned legs.

I shake my head and divert my attention to my hands resting on my knees.

The doors open and I watch as two giggling girls walk by, books clutched in their hands and scamper down the stairs, without acknowledging me.

Not that I really want them to.

“Hey, Lyra! What are you still doing here? Don't you walk home with Darren?”

I look up and see Cindy's cheerful face. She's one of Darren's friends. We've talked before, here and there. I clear my voice and reach for a strand of hair.

“I have work. Until I get my license my dad has to drive me there.”

“Oh?” Her small lips curl into a pout. “Does it have to be your dad? You want me to give you a ride?”

Wow. I didn't expect that. That's really nice of her.

But I can't accept. Can I? Can I tell her to drop me off at the gates of SEAD, wave and thank her for the ride as the security guards let me in?

I don't think so.

“My dad actually has to bring me,” I find myself saying, which sounds like the lamest reply I could possibly come up with. She probably thinks I work fast food or retail. And I need my daddy to drop me off.

I push my hand down to my knee, practically yanking out a few strands of hair, and attempt to say more before she turns to leave.

“Hey kiddo! So sorry I'm late. Work stuff.”

I can't see my father well, his face shadowed from the driver's seat, but his voice is… off. Like he's nervous, or worried, or something.

I clamor down the stairs and sprint to the car door.

Cindy.

I turn to thank her, which I haven't done yet, but she's already walking back to the student parking lot.

“Cindy!” I yell, most heads turn my way. The heat from the Arizona sun isn't the only thing warming my face. Cindy turns to look, I can even see her eyebrows rise as she waits for me to finish.

“Thanks for the offer. Maybe next time?”

Cindy smiles wide, her lips almost disappearing behind her thin black hair. “Anytime.”

I dive into the car and launch my backpack into the back seat. Dad pulls out of the school cul-de-sac, holding the steering wheel with white knuckles, the veins in his hands full of tension.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” He turns to face me and licks his upper lip.

“So you forgot to come get me. It's no big deal. I'm not going to go off on you or anything.” I laugh a little. It's not like this ever happens. I've been walking home from school since the second grade.

Forgetting to come home for dinner?
That
happens more often than not.

“Oh, no kiddo. It's not that.” His head spins again to mine. “But thanks. I didn't forget. Just got tied up.”

“Yeah, okay. Like I said. It's fine.”

“I'm not sure what to do,” he mumbles and I can tell it's supposed to be to himself. When he gets in these moods, it's because of work. I don't think he even realizes he's having a discussion with himself.

“I'm really excited about work tonight. Iris said I can help her with some upgrades on the StarCatcher.”