Parallel: The Secret Life of Jordan McKay (31 page)

I nodded as I picked at my muffin, my appetite somewhat depleted, “That’s nice.” I felt my insides sink at the thought of having a mother.

Scott swallowed a load of eggs, “So what’s your story? You seem like you’ve got a heavy mind.” He was analyzing my sadness like a Petri dish.

I thought for a moment, finding the right words to say that wouldn’t cause him to turn and run. “Well,” I flicked a sugar crystal off the table, “I was an orphan.” I watched his face for some sort of reaction but one never came. “And I’ve always had this thing with plants, with nature,” I blurted.

He looked at me surprised, only a slight twinge of confusion on his face, “What thing is that? Like an Affair?” He gave me a smug confident smile, something I didn’t think he could posses.

I faked a grin and rolled my eyes, finding his version of sarcasm a little sadistic. “No not like that,” I tore at my napkin, “like a mother thing. The plants…” I paused, trying to see how I could explain without sounding like a complete nut bag, “they love me. They react to me even when I don’t take care of them at all. No matter what, they still flourish under my care.” I held my breath after I said it. It had always been a strange talent of mine and certainly not something a normal girl could do.

He looked at me and I could see he hadn’t gotten it, “Mother nature then right?” He let out a small chuckle.

I rolled my eyes and released the breath from my lungs in relief.

“So then you’re a tree hugger,” he said as a matter of fact, looking at me as though it were a typical occurrence. “We’ve got two types here, animal activists and tree huggers.” He chewed as he pointed at me with his fork, “And you’re a tree hugger.”

I lowered my gaze, feeling somewhat hurt and very annoyed. I was no hippy, which was for sure. I had never been an obsessed recycler or taken to eating granola, yogurt, and tofu. I knew that what I had was a different passion, a real passion, not a means to fit in.

Scott noticed my pained expression, “Oh, sorry.” He looked concerned, “I didn’t really mean to offend you,” he let out a nervous laugh in his attempt to erase his prior remark.

I looked up at him, “Oh no Scott, don’t worry you didn’t.” I felt bad for him, he was really trying, “I don’t really have feelings, well at least no feelings other than pain, so don’t feel bad.”

Again, he gave me the same dense confused stare and I could see that he and I were going to make great friends. He didn’t seem to understand me, and that was good.

“Well good.” A bubbly smile was again plastered to his freckled face, his glasses smeared with blueberry juice where he had grabbed the rim to readjust them onto his thin nose.

He finished his whole plate as I stuffed the muffin in my bag for later, feeling an acute loss of appetite after the depressing conversation and also the fact that I had to watch him eat. Scott grabbed my plate as he stood, throwing them with expert aim into a nearby tub as we left the building.

“So, looks like we’re off to the hatchery,” he looked at me as excitement filled his eyes. “That’s my favorite class,” he whispered, as though there were anyone around to even care.

It was a sunny day, the weather of summer just turning into fall, yet still somewhat warm. I followed him down the hill to the crystal blue lake as he half skipped in front of me. The building was old and water stained like an antique boathouse and it was the full length of the dock, about eighty feet long. Once inside, I noticed how its shape reflected its function. To the front was a long segmented tank that spread down the side of half the room, each filled with a dozen fish, divided based on their age and relative size.

Scott ran like a child to the ledge of the tank and looked deep within, “Hey Elle, come see.”

I approached the tank in short wary footsteps, I’d never really cared for fish, especially live ones. Anytime I got in any lakes or oceans they would nibble at my feet as though I where I giant chunk of floating wonder bread.

I peered deep into the multifaceted turquoise water, the pearl green scales of the fish glittering like dark clouds as they twisted their way around their bleak confines.

“
Hey look!” Scott pointed to the fish now circling in anxious rings in front of me. “He likes you.”

I sighed, looking down at the struggling fish as it tried all it could to get closer to me, in any way possible. I felt sorry for the poor thing, a runt, stuck in a glass box for the rest of its life. With reluctant will, I raised my trembling hand where I let it hover above the water in my rippled reflection. I watched as the trout swam at the shadow, following the shelter I was creating for it as my hand swirled above the water.

Scott watched in amazement and I noticed his shocked expression out of the corner of my eye. Ashamed that he had seen what I’d done, I slammed my hand back into my pockets, feeling my pale skin blush to a dramatic red.

“How did you do that?” Scott came to my side, watching the once anxious fish now swim with tranquility, still as close to me as possible. “He was like, following you.”

I shrugged, “That’s what I was saying. They love me.” I felt like a freak and I was waiting for him to blow me off, call me a weirdo and never talk to me again.

“Well,” he gave me a stupid grin. “Then I guess they do,” he shrugged.

I stared at him in disbelief. How Scott had made it this far in life amazed me. His dense demeanor and oblivious personality would never survive in the city; he’d be eaten alive. As I tried to calm my nerves, the room filled with students, each eyeing me with curiosity and disapproval and I shrank to the back. A few minutes later, a frumpy, frizzle haired professor entered the room and began to preach before everyone was even settled, her voice lisping like a drowning snake.

“The fish are our friends,” she droned with passionate respect, and I could tell this was going to be a long hour.

I watched Scott as he stared in obedience toward the front, alert in his love for marine life. Soon, my eyes wandered to the other students. People of all ages filled the room, each plainer than the next. I felt like I had a giant arrow pointing directly at me, the one thing that didn’t belong, but then again, when had I ever belonged? My blonde hair stood stark against the muddy colors of the people around me, and at one point, I noticed the teacher could barely stop staring at me, an almost entranced look on her face.

At the end of class, Scott turned to me with elated and glossed over eyes, “That was amazing,” he gasped, throwing his bag over his shoulder. His happiness bled from him like a deep open wound and I longed to know how that felt.

I watched him as a pathetic lump grew in my throat, not wanting to ruin the moment for him, “Yeah, sure was.” My voice was sarcastic but there was nothing I could do to help it and I hoped he hadn’t noticed my unconvincing attitude. Luckily he hadn’t.

“Well Elle, time for the birds,” he gave a playful nudge, “We’ll get to plants soon though, don’t worry.” He winked at me and grabbed my arm as he led me out the door and back to the gravel path.

We walked in silence to the bird and wildlife lab as I began to doubt my presence here, surely no one would take me seriously. Scott wasn’t absorbing the fact that my strange abilities weren’t just with plants, it was with everything in nature. I just tended toward plants because the extraordinary pull I had for them was safe. With animals, you never knew what was going to come at you, bulldogs were the worst, not that they wanted to hurt me, but the drool was gross.

Scott pulled the heavy door of the lab open and we walked into the stark white classroom. Students were socializing as they roamed from table to table in casual circles. I followed Scott to a station toward the back and we settled onto the tall stools. I analyzed his face as he sat poised on the stool like a kid fresh from etiquette school and I wondered why he hadn’t had more friends.

Looking around the room, I noticed that all the windows had grids and I assumed it was to prevent the birds from flying into them. To the far left was a large aquarium-like enclosure that stretched from the floor to the ceiling and inside I saw a slow squirrel moving amongst the branches of its confined habitat like an old man. There were six rows of desk stations, all big enough to hold two to four students. The room felt sterile, like a doctor’s office, but I liked it.

Even though the overall space was bright and refreshing, it still did nothing to boost my sullen mood. After a few moments of idle chatter, the students began to settle, taking their seats in a routine manner as a door toward the front of the room creaked open, the handle slamming against the wall before bouncing back.

I looked around with wondering eyes at all the students, all as still as statues and as quiet as death as though frozen in time. I looked to Scott for an explanation as fear and confusion began to fill my mind.

He gave me a nervous glare as he folded his hands politely before him, “Professor Edgar is very strict,” he hissed between clenched teeth, “You’ve got to remain as still as possible, as alert as you can be, or…” he paused as the clumping sound of heavy footsteps entered the room.

My eyes widened in terror as the door to the front of the classroom slammed close and a tall figure took the stage with a large hawk poised on his strong arm. What shocked me most was the professor’s youth and I deduced that he must not be any older than twenty, possibly even younger. His face and eyes were like ice behind his tinted glasses and large lab coat. I shook my head as a sudden fog filled my mind, and I felt a flurry of anxiety grip at my chest. My heart rate quickened as though my life was being threatened and I struggled to remain calm, focusing on his face instead.

The professor’s youthful skin was radiant and unflawed. He had a prominent chin and thick eyebrows that framed his strong face well. The glasses he wore shielded his eyes, making it hard to tell the exact spot to which he was looking. The pitch black of his hair contrasted beautifully with his pale skin and for the first time, I felt I wasn’t the only one that stood out.

My heart rate remained elevated and the flutter in my chest began to sting with a sharp unbearable twang. I started to wince as I struggled to control the pain, my head now ripping open in agony. Something was attacking me and it felt as though they were drawing the very life from my bones and I found myself now struggling to remain calm.

Scott noticed my trembling as he eyed me with a tense look, hoping I wouldn’t attract any attention. I shot him a worried glare as I struggled to take deep breaths but my lungs began to seize, causing my cheeks to flush as a sudden rush of blood streamed straight to my head.

“
Class,” the professor boomed. I wasn’t sure if the professor had even noticed me, but I prayed he wouldn’t. “The red hawk is a fierce predator.”

I noticed the squirrel in the tank leap from its branch and scurry into a small house in the far corner as beads of sweat gathered on my forehead.

The professor froze as though his shoes were suddenly full of lead, scanning the class with his dark eyes which seemed to take on a new, almost ominous glimmer. His mouth was pursed into an angry line and his nostrils were flared. The hawk sat steady on his arm, unfazed by his carrier’s sudden mental disruption. As his eyes landed on each student, I saw them squirm on their stools, each praying the following words were not directed toward them.

I was stifling my heavy breaths as his eyes met mine and halted, remaining on me as he took one singular step forward and then stopped. My whole body went weak as though I were no more than a puppet, my limbs tingling as though someone was forcing sand into my veins. Placing my hands on the table to prevent myself from fainting, the world around me seemed to slowly dissipate as I felt something inside him pulling me closer.

His eyes were burning even darker now, mesmerizing me with terror and I prayed that it would stop, begged for anything to interrupt this painful and silent attack. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t look away from his perfect face, his gaze becoming harder to handle as I began to sweat more profusely. It felt like an eternity had already passed as we stared at each other, my mind turning to a stormy dark. His brows furled even deeper, the lines on his face now cutting into his angelic white skin, making him seem years older. A student bravely adjusted his stool as it scratched across the floor and the professor broke his stare, his face somehow lost. I softly gasped for air and the world around me returned in a rush of warmth and I rubbed my neck as though I had been choked, finding it sore as though it had really happened.

“
Elle,” Scott whispered, his voice frantic and scared. “Are you ok?” His throat sounded dry and his voice was cracking.

“
Yeah,” I took a few heavy breaths, regaining what composure I could and summoning a courage I had never known.

The professor staggered to his desk, looking away from the curious class to hide his faltering expression. His body language looked as though, like me, he was having trouble regaining his composure. I watched with observance as he leaned one strong arm against the mahogany desk, the hawk continuing to sit steady, unchanged in his composure to the class. After a brief moment of reprieve, the professor turned back and the stinging in my chest subsided. As his gaze fell on mine I noticed that his eyes were now serene, and calm, void of the murderous black of before as though now a whole new person.

“
Class,” he started again, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, “This hawk has been injured.” He motioned one shaking hand toward the hawk.