Read Parallel: The Secret Life of Jordan McKay Online
Authors: Abra Ebner
Parallel: The Secret Life of Jordan McKay (14 page)
I sighed. Beyond Kenzie, the world held little interest for me anymore. Things were so predictable to me, that having someone like Kenzie felt refreshing and new, as though I was finally being rewarded after years of hard work and diligence; after time spent sacrificing my own life for another. She was unpredictable and wild, much like today when she kissed me, taking me by surprise when she guessed my name. I’m not sure what it was that possessed her to know these things, to feel my presence every time I was around, but she did. I had left an impression on her life, and no matter how hard I tried to stay out of it, she still felt the connection between us that had been so clear that day when we first met.
I thought about that fact as I pulled my bag from my back and threw it on my bike, strapping it down and grabbing the helmet I never used from the seat. I laughed to myself, seeing that all that time spent living without rules still led to the day I’d have to exercise caution and be like everyone else.
“Nice bike.”
I jumped and turned around as I saw a girl about eighteen standing behind me. She wore a black hooded sweatshirt far too large for her frame, and a pair of old jeans. Her hood was pulled over her head and draped just above her eyes, which were a bright turquoise that glowed against her pale skin.
She smiled.
“Oh, uh… Thanks.” I looked at the helmet as I flipped it onto my head and secured the strap.
“Looks old,” she added, pressing the conversation.
I threw my leg over the saddle and sat down, kicking up the stand as I turned to look at her. She had her hands shoved into the front pocket of her sweatshirt, her lips parted as she let a calm breath escape her lungs. She blinked a few times, her movements slow, as though in a dream.
“It is old,” I replied, trying to brush her off.
She nodded, looking as though my cold comment had broken her heart. She slowly pulled one hand from her pocket. “Here, this fell out of your bag a ways back. I figured you’d need it for something.” She shrugged and took one step toward me, handing me my knife as she leaned in as far as she could. The knife glittered in her hand, the same knife I had used to slash the tires on Kenzie’s mom’s car.
“Oh.” I paused as I took it from her hand, her skin cold as ice as our fingers touched. “Er… thanks.” I looked at her sideways, noticing the way she seemed to recoil.
She was quick to tuck her hands back into the pocket of her sweatshirt, as though she were freezing though the temperature outside was unseasonably warm; wet, but warm. She avoided direct eye contact as she smiled again. “Well, I’ll let you go. I need to get back as well.”
“Yeah. Sure. Well, thanks again, though.” I looked down at my feet and stepped down on the starter as the engine roared to life. I shook my head in disbelief, ashamed at myself for losing such an important object so carelessly, and thankful the girl had found it. Looking up, I saw the girl was already halfway down the street toward downtown, her pace quick, as though I’d scared her off. Without a second thought, I pulled out onto the street and headed back to the green house at the end of the lane, my mind still racing from the events of the day and the pain in my side.
Statement from Dr. Ashcroft,
Vincent Memorial Hospital, Boston
August 4, 2009
03:10 a.m.
Agent Donnery:
So that was it. He was stuck with you.
Dr. Ashcroft:
I hardly consider it an imposition, sir.
Agent Donnery:
Does your stomach still hurt? I see you’re rubbing it.
Dr. Ashcroft:
Yes, just knowing that there was a child that was destined for me hurts, but Jordan was right. I would have never wanted to live with that child. I know it sounds selfish, but what woman does? (pause) I’m sorry, it’s just… shocking.
Agent Donnery:
I understand. I could never imagine being in your position. First all this, then finding you had a child destined for you as well?
Dr. Ashcroft:
Yes, I (pause) it’s very difficult, but I told myself to be prepared for anything that I may find here. Perhaps, though, this news was the worst.
Agent Donnery:
I’m sorry for the tears. It’s just sad to think that child never got the chance to live.
Dr. Ashcroft:
If you believe in God, as I do (pause) excuse me, you’ve got me crying now (pause). As I was saying, if you believe in God, then you would believe that the child still does live. I think that its soul found another more suitable situation to live in, just not as my child.
Agent Donnery:
So for lack of a better phrase, it was sort of like terminating a pregnancy.
Dr. Ashcroft:
If that makes it easier for you to relate to, then, yes, like abortion.
Agent Donnery:
(pause) Let me change the subject. So how is it that Jordan came across his money? Surely he cannot work a normal job, and it’s not like his parents could have left him much more than the house.
Dr. Ashcroft:
Agent, I see now that when you know what will happen as Jordan did, it’s not very hard to find a way to become rich. He never took much, just enough to live on, but knowing now that he was cheating makes it seem like a cop-out. He was good at hiding it from me and good at making it seem as though he was just a lucky guy making a living.
Agent Donnery:
Let me guess. Vegas, right?
Dr. Ashcroft:
(laughter) Sort of. More like Kentucky.
Agent Donnery:
Kentucky? What’s in Kentucky?
Dr. Ashcroft:
The greatest sport in the history of man, Agent…
Stories from the journals
of Patient #32185
May 3, 2003
05:48 p.m.
I leaned against the wall around the corner, realizing the gravity of what I was about to do, and wondering if I could pull it off without any trouble. I had come here for one reason and one reason only: the money. Besides, corporate CEO’s and bankers cheated all the time; why not me? It wasn’t like I was going to clean them out; just take enough to live on until next year when I would do it again.
I knew that technically I was not twenty-one, though my body looked it at this moment, but I needed the money if I was going to live the easy life and concentrate on being the superhero. Besides, I could never understand why superheroes didn’t just get paid by the government so that they wouldn’t have to count on large trust funds like Batman, or live in poverty like Spiderman did. If that were the case, I’d have been the first to sign up.
A lady in the largest hat I’d ever seen walked by, and I did all I could not to laugh at her. It was absurd what people did when drinking massive amounts of whiskey laced with mint, and I wondered what all the hoopla was about, but I liked it. It was a longtime dream of mine to come here one day, but now it seemed one day was easier to come by since I could easily travel into the future to get it.
Only moments ago, I was sitting in the green house at the end of the lane watching the old TV my father left behind, abandoned with little more than a few channels that I was able to pick up on the antennas. I was ten, laying down to watch the Kentucky Derby in 1992 after a day peeking through the windows and watching Kenzie ride her bike with her friends.
My father was a big fan of horse racing, and the Triple Crown races were the crème de la crème. I couldn’t help but fall in love with it as well. Laying there on the floor eating stale crackers and wearing old jeans, it had finally dawned on me that I had the power to live a better life, and that’s what brought me here to 2003, so that I could make my dues.
Sure, I’m cheating time, traveling forward to take money from the future, only then to bring it back. I laughed, wondering how I could manage to pass off money printed in 2003 and hoping no one would notice, I mean, who ever did anyway? Money was money; by the time they figured it out it would be too late anyway. I pulled my bag from my back and set it on the floor as a lady glared at me from across the room. She was dressed in a bright yellow sun dress and a yellow hat that had daisies on it, while I wore the old green jacket and torn jeans, looking like a bum.
I fished through my bag and pulled out the cashier’s check I had withdrawn from the bank, my entire inheritance of roughly ten thousand dollars. I stood then and threw the bag over my back, standing tall in my attempt to act the age I looked, though I still felt like a child. The woman in yellow continued to glare at me, her cheeks red from the liquor and the noises outside deafening as the horses entered the track. Didn’t she know it was rude to stare?
“Last bets please!” The speakers shook on the walls, and I looked away from the woman and walked up to the counter.
“Your bet, sir?” I slid the cashier’s check toward him along with my shiny fake I.D.
“On Funny Cide please,” I kept my eyes down, my hands pressed against the counter to keep them from shaking with excitement.
“12-1 odds sir, are you sure? Empire Maker is a guaranteed win and the odds are 5-2, that’s pretty good for a safe bet.” He held the check in his hand, tempting me.
I smiled then, finding the humor in the situation. “I don’t like safe bets,” I winked at him.
The clerk let a humored chuckle pass his lips. “First timer,” he whispered under his breath, shaking his head as he opened the register and printed my ticket.
I watched him with confidence, the smile on my face growing.
“Well, here you are, sir. Best of luck.” He slammed the register shut in a manner that was meant to be threatening. “And thank you for your money.”
“No, thank you, and I’ll see you in a few moments,” I gave him another wink, the clerk’s smile now stretching from ear to ear.
I then took my ticket and walked through the complex, finally finding a spot where I could see the track. Despite the fact that I had watched the race already, it felt new now that there was ten thousand dollars on the table.
“Mint Julep, sir?” A vendor walked up behind me.
I eyed the cups he had before him, the smell triggering the memory of my father. I had never tried it, not even one drop, because I refused to be like him but what part of me would ever let that happen? I tilted my head, then nodded and dug through my pocket for some loose bills. What did it matter if I had just one? Besides, I was celebrating.
“Here you go.” I pulled a twenty from my pocket and handed it to him as he handed me the change and a drink.
I took one sip and cringed, but as the flavor lingered, it seemed to change, as though my taste buds were suddenly catching up to my physical age. After the second sip I was in love, the feeling numbing the tingle that still lingered in my blood as a result of the travel here. An old man stood beside me, his ticket clutched in his hand as though it was the last thing on earth he owned.
He noticed me watching him as the trumpet began to play. “There’s nothing in the world that supplies a greater thrill than this, son,” he chuckled and shrugged. “Well, that is except the love of a woman.”
I laughed then, nodding in agreement.
“What did you bet on, son?” His old eyes kept flickering to mine, his tanned skin and dusty white suit showing his age, but also his social class.
“Funny Cide, sir,” I replied, showing him the ticket.
The man gave me a slow nod with a knowing smile. “Good choice son, good choice.”
I found his company relaxing. “And you, sir?”
He smiled. “The same.” He held the ticket toward me, and I noticed the amount he paid: one-hundred thousand.
I let out a sharp breath. “Wow, hefty bet there.”
He turned and looked me in the eyes. “I’ve lost all I’ve ever loved. What else is there to live for? All I want is to do something reckless before I die. I want to risk it all for once.” His eyes twinkled.
I nodded, seeing his future was about to change. “Well, sir, here’s to us.” I raised my glass toward him, and we bumped cups, taking a sip as the trumpet began to play.
I placed my hands on the banister, gripping it with such excitement I hardly noticed as they went numb. There was a loud clank and a roar from the crowd as the horses raced out of the gates, tackling each other for the lead spot on the rail, running as horses were intended to do, free and wild. As anticipated, Empire Maker was in the lead a quarter of the way around the track, but the gelding was lazy with the rail as Funny Cide sat in third, inching his way up. The crowd around us was cheering wildly with their tickets in the air, suggesting that a good portion had bet on Empire Maker to win and I smiled with secret delight.
I looked sideways at the man as the horses came into the final stretch, Funny Cide hugging the rail as he blew past the horse behind Empire maker, taking advantage of the inside track the gelding was failing to protect. The man’s face was alive, as though he were twenty-one again, watching the race for the first time. Looking back I saw Funny Cide was advancing at a rapid pace, now only half a length behind Empire Maker, clicking at his heels; the horse finally tiring from being in the lead for so long.
I put my hand on the man’s back and whispered in his ear, “Congratulations.” Before I even saw the end of the race, I walked away, the room now silent as I heard the excited cry of one old man whom had found his thrill in life. From today on, his fate had created a new path for him, a path where he would finally live again, and it felt good to have been the one there to see it.