Fast-Tracked (24 page)

Fortunately, Wendy was clever and quick thinking.

“
Zandria
is being overly kind with her wording. My parents were red level workers, but when they died I became orphan. If it wasn’t for
Zandria
, I’d still be stuck in an orphanage with little to no opportunity to study or learn.
Zandria
has been kind enough to take me in. She’s a bit of a heckler when it comes to my studying, but I know she has my best interests in mind.” Phew. I breathed an internal sigh of relief. She had covered the ugly truth up so smoothly.

My parents smiled back warmly. “I’m glad to see that Alexandria has retained her values as a fast-tracker, even if she chose not to keep her name,” Mom chastised.

My face instantly blushed red with embarrassment. “
Zandria
wasn’t my idea, but once it was brought up, it stuck,” I explained sheepishly. When it came to my parents, all the status and power in the world wouldn’t make a difference. All it took was the right look and tone to transform me into a child ashamed that she hadn’t lived up to her parents’ expectations in one way or another.

I attempted to steer the topic elsewhere. “Hey, Mom, do you still have all of my old clothes?”

“Of course, honey. I could never throw any of your things out.” Straight away I felt guilty and unappreciative of her.

“If you don’t mind, I was hoping to get some outfits for Wendy. When her parents died, she wasn’t allowed to keep anything,” I explained, hoping she wouldn’t be too upset at me for so easily discarding what she had saved for me.

“Say no more. Wendy, come with me. It’s time to shop.” My mom shot my dad a look, grabbed Wendy by the hand and led her up the stairs, both of them laughing like giddy schoolgirls.

The somber expression that had crept across my dad’s face confirmed what I suspected as I watched my mom climb the stairs. I had been set up, and was in for a lecture. My dad motioned toward the kitchen with his head. Obediently I followed and sat down in my old chair.

He asked, “So how have you been?” He tried his best to sound casual. He failed.

“Fine,” I answered cautiously. I knew from experience that he was most likely leading me towards whatever my offense was.
“Coffee?”
I pushed up from my seat and started getting us both a cup.

“No, I’m good,” he said, but I continued to get two cups anyway. It was easier to talk if I didn’t have to stare into his disappointed eyes. “So how’s everything with your friends?” he continued.

I pulled the milk out of the fridge.
“Fine.”
I gestured with the carton to ask if he wanted any. He shook his head.

“And how’s Avery?”

Ah, there it is. Avery
. I had avoided the topic on our brief calls, but it was just a matter of time before my parents figured out that my friend Avery Huntington was the son of Mr. Steven Huntington, the very man responsible for sinking Byron.

I had figured it out long ago and had questioned Avery about it. He had admitted with embarrassment that it was true. He told me that after I initially mentioned what happened to Byron that he had looked into it. He had hoped his dad could help – but then he found out that his dad had caused it. Avery and his father got into a huge fight because of it. It was only recently that they’d started talking to each other again – and just barely at that. Avery hoped that over time his father would decide that his point had been made, and fix everything. But Avery also knew that if he kept bringing the topic up, his father would adamantly stick by his decision. “Business before emotion,” was one of his favorite sayings.

But how would I explain that to my dad? “Avery’s fine.”

“From the little bits and pieces of information you’ve given me and your mom, I get the impression that you and Avery are more than just friends.” He took the mug I offered him.

“Avery understands that right now my main focus is on school. He knows that right now the last thing I want is any romantic involvement, and he’s content to wait for now.” I tried to convey a tone of finality in my statement, but my dad ignored it.

“Is he now?” His voice was drenched in doubt. It made me roll my eyes. “Do you realize who his father is?” my dad asked. He’d always liked to lead me to the problem, but never had much patience for beating around the bush.

“Avery is not his father,” I said. I intentionally met my dad’s eyes so he could see that mine held no doubt.

“I’m sure you can see how I’m concerned, though. To become involved so closely with the family that destroyed Byron’s life, even if it is just as friends. I have a hard time understanding how you could do that – especially knowing what Byron once meant to you.” As he spoke he reached forward and covered my hand in his.

I snatched my hand back. “Don’t you dare talk about my feelings for Byron in the past tense, and don’t you dare presume to know what he means to me,” I growled. “As far as Avery and I are concerned… well, I’ve already said he’s not the same person as his father. I’m able to make that distinction, even if you can’t. And don’t you dare judge Avery for not changing his father’s mind. He’s no more able to than you were able to convince Mr.
Levenson
to keep his mouth closed until after final assessment.” I grabbed my mug and began chugging the coffee to hide my tears. Good thing I take a lot of milk in my coffee, otherwise I would’ve burnt my tongue.

“Look, I don’t want to upset you. I just wanted to let you know my concerns. Now can we get back to just enjoying seeing each other?” My dad smiled hopefully at me, and I realized he wasn’t disappointed in my choices as much as he was afraid of losing me. I’d been so focused on everything that had changed in my life that I never thought about how hard it must be for them.

Before my final assessment, I had never been away from home. Not unless you count sleepovers. Overnight I had been whisked away to a life so different, it might as well be on another world. And how had I comforted them? The first contact I made was to jump down my dad’s throat for what happened with Byron. And after that, our communication was sparse at best I made a promise to myself that I’d keep in touch more frequently.

When Wendy came back downstairs, she and my mother grasped huge bags of clothes. It looked like my mom had given her my entire closet. I shot my mom a warm smile of thanks.

Claiming that I wanted to show Wendy where I grew up, the two of us headed outside. I needed to show someone my hiding spot for the recordings in case I ever needed them but couldn’t get to them. Without questioning me, Wendy followed me through the grassy field of wildflowers and into the woods. After about a ten minute hike, we came to a small clearing. In the center were several large boulders. Byron, Camille and I used to have picnic lunches on top of them.

But today I wasn’t interested in the boulders: as far as I was concerned, today they were simply a landmark. On the other side of the clearing was an old gnarled tree. At the base of that tree was a large flat rock that covered an old animal burrow. The burrow had caved in, but there was still a nice sized hole that perfectly fit a small lockbox Byron and I had stashed there years ago when we were kids. I think we had been ten at the time.

We had meant it to be our own private time capsule for when we grew up. I doubted Byron even remembered it now, but I still had its key. I pulled the box out and carefully opened it. Inside there were two letters Byron and I had written to each other, his favorite action figure, and the yo-yo I chipped Alice
Tessenger’s
tooth with.

I had claimed it was only an accident. I was just trying to perfect my latest trick – the
Lariet
. It was just a pure coincidence that Alice happened to walk by at the very moment I threw the yo-yo out with a little too much force and aimed much too high. I also claimed it was a pure coincidence that it happened right after she had been teasing Camille and some of the other younger kids. Alice had always been a bully.

No one could actually prove I wasn’t telling the truth, but my parents banned me from using the yo-yo until I learned to be more careful and responsible. I let them know I thought it was complete baloney. I knew it was really just their way of punishing me. Even back then I hadn’t been able to lie to my parents: they always could tell.

That was when Byron came up with the time capsule idea. It was his way of making me feel better, and it worked. I had gotten so excited over the idea of the time capsule that I forgot to mope about my yo-yo. He had loved that silly little
Murmut
action figure. He had carried it with him everywhere since his seventh birthday. Looking back, I can’t believe he gave it up just to make me happy.

I left the letters in the container. I had hoped we’d be able to read the letters together someday. I still did.

I placed the recordings in the box and took the action figure out. Byron once believed
Murmut
had the magic ability to protect him from any harm or danger. Right now that was certainly something he could use.

I wiped my eyes dry and turned back to Wendy. “Do you think you can remember how to get here?” I asked. She nodded. “Good. Before we go home we’ll get a copy made of the key. If anything happens to me, can I count on you to retrieve this information and get it to my parents? They should be able to figure out how to use it to help me.”

“Of course I can, but do you mind telling me why you think something’s going to happen to you? It’s not because of me is it?” Suddenly her face was riddled with guilt and concern.

“No. Don’t think that for a moment.” I insisted. “There’s no immediate danger. It’s just that my eyes have been opened to the ways of the fast-tracker world. Power is really the only thing that matters to them. If you don’t have it, then everything you have can easily be stripped away. I have no legacy to protect me, no important connections or a business of my own, so I’m left with knowledge. This box is my insurance policy against any future retaliation I may one day face.” My voice trailed off as I got tangled up in my own thoughts. My mind started to play out events that would lead to me or my parents using the recording. Each one was more horrible than the last. I shook my head and forced the thoughts out of my mind. Fear would only hinder me.

I patted the stone that covered what I hoped would one day hold many more secrets to protect me and my family.

My parents complained when we left that the visit had been too short, but we had several errands to run and I still had school tomorrow. So we all said our goodbyes and Wendy and I headed to the air-tram. After checking in our bags, we headed to the nearest locksmith and had a copy of the key made.

After that we headed into a nearby silver neighborhood. During our trip out to see my parents Wendy had used my tablet to locate a woman who bred Lhasa
Apso
puppies. She had a litter that was ready to go.

Forty minutes later we were back at the air-tram with a wiggly ball of fur bouncing around the complimentary carrier the woman had included, along with some extra food and puppy pads. The moment she realized I was a fast-tracker she couldn’t give us enough extras. This time I had no delusions: I knew her actions were out of fear and not respect. Still, the motivations aside, I was glad I wouldn’t have to stop at a pet store before tomorrow. I doubted there would be any open by the time we got back to New York, and we would already have a hard enough time carrying the dog carrier and the bags of clothes.

I appreciated the special non-pickup treatment fast trackers got when we arrived back at New York. I was exhausted and the extra stops would have been unbearable, even sitting in the comfy chairs sipping a chilled glass of wine.

But the moment we were home and the puppy was out of the carrier, my fatigue vanished. His rambunctious love of life was infectious. He was a flying ball of fur and kisses bouncing around and trying to explore everything simultaneously. He was really a cute little guy, too: the cutest from his litter. He had a soft golden coat tipped with a smoky charcoal color, and a tiny black nose and a pink tongue that always seemed to be sticking out.

“He needs a name,” Wendy pointed out.

“I’ve never named anything before,” I admitted. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to start now.

“How about
Murmut
?”
Wendy offered.

I pulled the action figure from my pocket. “Nah, he needs something cuter.” And I didn’t say it, but
Murmut
was something just for Byron. I didn’t want to dilute its meaning for the sake of naming a dog. “
Lariet
,” I offered. The puppy seemed to like it. He immediately ran over and jumped onto my lap. Looking at him I knew it fit; after all, he was a bit of a yo-yo.

“Then it’s settled. I think it’s probably best to keep
Lariet
in my bathroom at night until we know he’s potty-trained,” Wendy said as she grabbed the carrier and puppy pads.

“She said he was paper-trained,” I pointed out as I prepared a bowl of food and water.

“How would she know? I highly doubt she’s the one cleaning up when the puppies miss the pad.”

“Good point.”

I followed after her with the bowls and
Lariet
nipping at my heels.

Chapter 16