Fast-Tracked Read online

  “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, especially if there is anything I can do to prevent it.” He grabbed a hold of my hand and squeezed. Then he gave me that crooked sheepish smile with the puppy dog eyes that he knew I could never resist.

  Then I had an idea. “Can you make the trash can near the college your last stop of the day?” I asked.

  “Actually, it already is. You just haven’t seen me because I adjusted my schedule to avoid running into you. I figured it was easier that way.” As he explained, he didn’t meet my eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was because he was embarrassed or afraid that I’d be mad.

  “Good. Just look in it before you dump it. There’s no limit on my portions; I’ll just take some extra with me. I can just throw some away before you collect it,” I explained, hoping he’d accept. “What time do you usually collect it at?”

  “No! What if you got caught? It’s too dangerous,” he protested. I crossed my arms and stared back at him. He knew me well enough to know I’d go ahead with the plan with or without his help. With a soft moan, he rested his head against me. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

  “So I’ve been told.” But I had won, so I smiled.

  “I usually finish by eight o’clock. Just be careful,” he warned.

  “I will. I promise.” I crossed my heart before I had to jog away. We could hear someone chatting loudly and they were walking our way. I didn’t feel like explaining what I was doing having a conversation with Bryon.

  As I turned and gave him a final wave, I realized the bushes we had been hiding behind were our Amber Flush roses.

  Instead of allowing myself to feel distraught or wallow in self-pity, I went to work the moment I got back into my apartment. I ignored Wendy’s questioning expression, which seemed to wonder if I would change my mind and tell her I was just kidding, and I wasn’t her savior but her worst nightmare. I grabbed my collection of Shakespeare’s works, which was really a book safe, and took out my collection of recordings. I had told myself that I was waiting until Autumn left because it would be safer, but in reality I had become complacent. I was enjoying my new life and hadn’t been working as hard as I should have been to gain power.

  Wendy’s continued look of curiosity was starting to bug me, so I explained. “I’m going to be busy the rest of the day with research. Help yourself to whatever food you want and feel free to use the desktop tablet.” I was pleasantly surprised to see her enter the kitchen and start searching through it.

  I had hundreds of hours of recordings to search through, and I didn’t really know what I was looking for. I just knew that it needed to be something someone wouldn’t want to be made public. So my search was very slow going as I diligently scrolled through what were mostly boring conversations.

  By the time I found anything useful it was almost dark out and the kitchen was filled with the pleasant aroma of dinner. The recording showed Congressman Norwinn and the back of someone I couldn’t identify. They were discussing what it would cost for the Congressman to ensure that the latest construction bid would be awarded to the faceless man.

  While I was wrapped up with my recordings, Wendy had taken the time to make a shepherd’s pie. I didn’t even remember having the ingredients for it. But then again, Autumn’s servants had always kept the kitchen well stocked.

  I thanked Wendy and then the two of us ate in silence. Then I helped her clean the kitchen. She was reluctant to accept my help, but after insisting several times that it made me happy to be able to help, she stopped protesting. She didn’t question, but watched intently as I separated the leftovers – half into a storage container and half into a large plastic baggie.

  I announced I was going for a walk and headed outside with the baggie. I took a quick stroll through the closest part of the park and discreetly as I could dropped the bag in the garbage can as I passed.

  When I returned to the apartment Wendy greeted me by saying, “You should get a dog.”

  “Huh?” I was surprised at her sudden boldness. “Is a dog something you want?” I asked gently.

  “Not particularly, but a small yapper would make your food donations less conspicuous. Just place them in a poop bag and no one will give it a second glance,” Wendy explained. I threw my arms around her – she yelped.

  “Sorry. That’s just a great idea.” I released her from my grasp.

  “So who’s it for?” she asked.

  “A childhood friend. His dad pissed off the wrong person, so he wasn’t very lucky when assessment time came,” I explained, but there was a note of finality in my voice that warned I didn’t want to go into it any further.

  “I imagine you feel a lot like my friend Emily did when I had to leave,” she answered sympathetically. But she didn’t explain any further: instead she busied herself wiping the already clean countertops.

  Appreciative of her respecting my wishes, I went back to reviewing my recordings. The night was still warm and nice, so I took my tablet out onto my patio.

  “The far left corner has the best view,” Wendy called over her shoulder.

  Sure enough, when I looked down, I could see the garbage can I had so recently visited. I had a difficult time focusing on my work and had to keep rewinding it, until I finally heard the noise I was listening for. I looked down and watched as Byron emptied his last trashcan. Before he left, he tucked my bag into his overalls. It might have been my imagination, or wishful thinking, but there seemed to be more of a bounce in his step as he walked away from my view.

  It was almost midnight by the time I went to bed. I had finally found another useful recording to copy. This clip I felt had more value. It surprised me when I first found it, but gave me a valuable lesson on backstabbing: being friends didn’t protect you from it.

  Theodore Winthrop and Bryce Bennington were conspiring to squeeze Grant Kuttler out of the steel market. That would allow Winthrop to corner the market on tram repair and production. Bennington was going to slowly raise his prices for Grant Kuttler until it got to the point that buying refined steel was no longer profitable. Bennington was the only steel refiner in the country, so Kuttler would be out of the tram business. As a reward for his help, Winthrop would then sell some of his stock shares on the ore mines. Apparently it would give Bennington the fifty-one percent in stock that he needed to control the mining company.

  It wasn’t the backroom deal that surprised me, but the fact that Bryce Bennington and Grant Kuttler were Slade’s and Grayson ’s dads, and supposedly life-long best friends. I had been naïve enough to think that actually meant something in business.

  Chapter 15

  I headed out early the next morning. My parents had been pestering me to come home for a visit. I hadn’t seen them since I first left for college. Even worse, lately I barely ever called them – or answered their calls. I had been too wrapped up in my fast-tracker life. Needless to say a visit was long overdue.

  The visit would also give me a chance to safely hide a set of the recorded copies I had made. I already had the exact spot picked out: somewhere none of my enemies would ever know to look. I had considered giving Wendy the day off to relax and get used to her new home, but then I remembered all of my old clothes. She had nothing to wear right now, except the white dress that clearly marked her as an orange level servant. That dress needed to be burned.

  So I loaned Wendy my most casual jeans and a plain top and had her accompany me for the day. I talked her through her first air-tram flight, and then told her stories about what my mom and dad were like. So by the time we knocked on their front door she was looking forward to meeting them.

  “Oh my gosh!” my mom squealed. She yelled, “Ethan!” Then, turning back to me: “You nearly gave me a heart attack. Why didn’t you call? I would have gotten something ready for you. I don’t even have a cake, cookies, or even any brownies…”

  She would have continued rambling, but I put a hand on her shoulder and laughed. “Mom, that’s exactly why I didn’
t call ahead. If I had I’d probably be walking home to a full parade and fireworks,” I teased. “I don’t need any fuss. I just want to see you and Dad,” I explained as we walked toward the kitchen.

  My dad waited at the doorway with his arms open for a hug. “Notice or no notice, I’m just glad to see you, sweetie.” He wrapped me in his arms. A shiver of regret ran through my body. I had forgotten how good his hugs were. They always managed to silently tell me how loved I was and that no matter what, everything would be all right.

  I wiped my tears on my arm before they could be seen. “Mom. Dad. This is Wendy Bernally. She’s, ah, my, ah… assistant.” The lie didn’t come out very well. Regardless of how good I’d become, my parents remained the two people I couldn’t fool.

  “Oh,” my mom responded suspiciously. “You’re a little young for an assistant, aren’t you?”

  I froze up. I couldn’t tell my parents the truth about Wendy. I mean, really, how do you tell your parents that the girl standing next to you is your servant? Sure, I could explain that she was doomed to a life equivalent to slavery simply for being an orphan. But that would only lead to more questions. Questions that would leave my parents terribly worried about me, and that was a burden I was unwilling to give them.

  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 landm
ark. 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.