Chasing Wishes

by Simonenko, Nadia

"No, but I wouldn’t mind it if you did," he whispers. By the time I can shake off my disgust and think of a retort, he’s long gone and the early-bird customers are starting to roll in.

  If Tyler and I were the last two humans on the face of the earth, well... sorry, humanity. You’re going extinct because I’m sure as hell not touching him. It’s all I can do not to vomit every time he comes onto me.

  A delivery boy drops a box of mayonnaise and mustard bottles off at my prep station just as the first sandwich customer arrives. Thank goodness.

  An hour flies by. Ham san as by. Hadwiches. Tuna wraps. More of those disgusting Cordon Bleu sandwich specials than I can count. They’re flying off the shelves today even though they’re just yesterday’s leftover chicken with a different sauce.

  "A grilled Portobello wrap for me and turkey and goat cheese for my friend, please," orders the old man in a white lab-coat from across the counter.

  "Sure, coming up."

  I start working on their orders, and my brain kicks in two seconds later as I realize who my customers are. It’s Terrence and his elderly assistant from last night. Oh god.

  My head snaps up to gape at him and then straight back down on its own, averting my gaze before I can make a fool of myself. I can still can feel him staring at me, though, and my heart is suddenly racing in my chest. Careful, Irene... no getting awkward while working with knives. Pay attention.

  I glance up at him. Jesus, he’s so handsome. He has a strong jaw, near-flawless, clean shaven skin, and... no, no looking at his eyes. If I do, I’m going to...

  ...get drawn in. Again.

  His eyes are deep green, so vivid that I can hardly believe they’re real.

  The sound of my knife against the cutting board slows and then stops completely as I lose track of everything around me. I’m just staring back at him now, unable to pull away from his gaze.

  The old man leans over to Terrence, whispers something in his ear, and then the young man suddenly turns away from me. His spell over me breaks, and I hurriedly return my attention to their sandwiches.

  "Sorry about that. I’m blind and I forget that I’m staring sometimes," he apologizes. His voice is deep and soft, like a tiger’s lullaby. Wait, what the hell does that even mean? Whatever his voice is doing to me, it’s turning both my knees and my brain into mush. My legs are shaking, and at the rate I’m going, I’ll be curled up on the floor reading sappy romance novels in less than five minutes.

  "I know. Susan told me last night," I answer. I’m usually proud of my voice, but suddenly it sounds so stupid, like I’m some kind of squeak-toy or something. What’s wrong with me?

  "Susan? Who’s that?" asks Terrence.

  "The... the librarian," I stammer. Doesn’t he recognize me? I’m even wearing the same outfit—well, minus the Rapunzel wig. No, why would he? I’m sure he’s dating someone way, way prettier than me, so why would—

  He’s blind, you idiot, I remind myself, and as my face turns bright red, I’m thankful that he can’t see it. How did I forget that already?

  Terrence’s jaw suddenly drops.

  "I knew I recognized your voice! You were reading to the kids, right? You have an incredible voice, ma’am," he gushes. I'm pretty sure I'm not old enough to be called ma’am yet, but I take the compliment with a smile.

  "Thanks. I’m hoping to get a job in voice acting or voice-over work eventually," I tell him as I hand them their long-overdue lunches, "but for now, it’s just sandwiches."

  "With a talent like yours, I’m sure you’ll find something soon," says Terrence with a smile not quite in my direction, and I can’t help blush as he and his assistant he2emassistaad for their table. He sounded genuinely impressed, and just as I start to feel good about myself again, my manager shows up.

  "Don’t flirt with the customers, Irene," says Tyler from behind me, and he slaps me on the ass right in front of my customers as he walks past.

  For one brief moment, it's as if the world freezes in place around me while my brain tries to comprehend what just happened, and then my face burns in humiliation as the rest of me runs cold. Is anybody in line going to call out my asshole of a manager? Nobody at all, seriously? No, they’re all pretending they didn’t see it, awkwardly pretending that they were all somehow simultaneously checking their phones or facing the other direction. At least Terrence wasn’t here to see it.

  I’m going to kill that asshole, I fume to myself. That stupid son of a...

  "Um, hello? I said I want the Cordon Bleu wrap, please," repeats the woman at the front of the line, checking her watch in irritation and further stoking the murderous rage flickering to life inside me. My hands won’t stop shaking as the anger and humiliation burn hotter and hotter inside me.

  I’ve been putting up with this shit for over a year now. I've had enough.

  "Hey Tyler?" I shout over to him as I finish off the sandwich. "Can you come over here for a second?"

  "What’s up, sweetheart?" he asks as he saunters back to my station.

  For probably

  the first time ever, I actually like how predictable Tyler is. He brings out that irritating, shit-eating grin just in time for me to slap it off his face.

  wi

  wi

  wi

  Chapter V

  Isaac and I are sixteen...

  Here it goes... the first introduction. My heart is pounding so hard that I worry that it might burst out of my chest. God, I’m so nervous!

  "If I can get your attention, please," calls out Dr. Stevens, "I’d like to introduce you all to the newest member of your class, Nina Torres. She is the first student ever to be accepted into Woodbridge IB through the public transfer program, and judging by her admission tests, she will be a wonderful asset to our classroom community."

  Everyone’s attention turns toward me. Every eye in the room is on me, and I can already tell that they don’t like what they see.

  I stand at the front of the classroom, trying to keep my legs from shaking with nervousness as I wither beneath the hostile glares directed at me from the audience. It doesn’t matter what my test scores said—I don’t belong at Woodbridge IB Academy and every last one of them knows it.

  "Hi Nina," says the entire class in unison, their derision almost palpable. I’m pretty sure I heard at least one ‘hola’ mixed in there too. A tall, green-eyed guy with disheveled blond hair sitting in the middle waves to me. His smile is the only genuine one in the entire classroom.

  "Want to tell the class a little about yourself, Nina?" asks Dr. Stevens. There’s nothing I want less than to do that. I want to hide in the corner and bury my face in my textbooks, maybe even build a wall out of them to deflect the hateful staring.

  "I... I live over in New Haven," I stammer. "I applied for a transfer to Woodbridge because..."

  "Because your ow1emn school sucked?" sneers a girl off to my right, and she goes silent as Dr. Stevens shoots her an angry look.

  She’s right, though. I wanted to get away from the bad education, from the drugs and crime, and from the students who don’t care because they know it’s pointless to care. I wanted to get away because if I didn’t, I’d end up trapped just like the rest of them.

  Screw it... I can tell they all hate me anyway, so I might as well give them a reason.

  "I applied to Woodbridge IB because I wanted the challenge," I lie, turning toward the loud-mouthed blonde to my right. "I know this is a competitive school with tough grade curves, and I intend to give every last one of you a run for your money, so don’t go easy on me."

  If silence could kill, I’d be dead right now. This might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever said.

  "Oh, I’m sure they won’t," says Dr. Stevens with a light-hearted chuckle, but his eyes betray a deeper worry when he looks down at me again.

  "For now," he continues, "let’s get you set up with a locker and then I’ll show you where your classrooms are, okay? Sarah, you’re going to be her guide for the day."

  "Ha, Sarah
has to deal with the sick," whispers a guy in the back row as another perfectly-manicured, toothpick blonde on the left side of the classroom gets up from her desk as slowly as possible and shuffles toward me.

  Deal with the sick? What the heck does that even mean? I wonder as Sarah waves me toward the door. I’m not sick. What’s he...

  The realization hits me like a brick as my brain finally figured it out, and I spin around in a huff and glare at the asshole in the back row. He has light brown hair, a scruffy goatee, and clearly has no idea how to wear a shirt. He's popped the collar so that it stands straight up and it looks absolutely idiotic.

  His snide little remark didn’t make sense because I misheard him. He didn't call me 'sick' at all.

  He called me a spic.

  He seriously went there. It’s my first day here and someone’s already dropped a racial slur on me.

  I can’t call him out on it, not on my first day of school. I’m the outsider—the poor little Hispanic girl from downtown—and if I start something now, I'll be painted as a troublemaker too.

  "Nice meeting you all," I say, waving goodbye with forced exuberance and trying to pretend that I’m not burning up inside at that stupid fucker’s slur.

  They can’t all be like that, can they? I wonder as my guide silently leads me down the hall.

  "So, where are you from?" I ask Sarah, breaking the ice. She shoots me a cold glare and everything freezes over again.

  "You’re not my friend. I’m only showing you around because Dr. Stevens told me to. After today, you’re on your own," she says bluntly, and then after a moment, she adds, "Totally on your own."

  "Hey, I had to test into this school just like the rest of..."

  "Sure you did," she interrupts me, rolling her eyes. "It’s not like your kind ever gets preferential treatment or anything."

  I don’t know whether to be uearther topset or pissed off, and it’s all I can do not to either slap her or start crying. Is she out of her mind? Where the hell does she think I came from? I haven’t had a day of preferential treatment in my life!

  "Alright, here’s your locker," she says, pointing at locker #1103. Its friendly, sky blue paint is the most welcoming thing I’ve seen all day.

  "Well, thanks for the tour," I tell her, but she only scoffs at me and turns away.

  "Get fucked, Nina. You’ll fail out soon enough," she hisses, and she abandons me in the hallway to find my own way back.

  They hate me. They don’t even know me and they already hate me.

  "Fail out, huh?" I whisper to myself. "Not

  a chance. I’m not going anywhere."

  I earned the opportunity to be here and they’re not getting rid of me so easily.

  wi

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  Chapter VI

  Terrence

  Marcus practically has to drag me away from the sandwich counter once we receive our wraps. I want to stay there and talk to the girl behind the counter, but he’s insistent that we go sit down and eat. He’s right, as usual—not only are we holding up the line, but also the only reason I came over to Verta’s headquarters at all today was for the lunchtime meeting we scheduled that I'm already late for. I run a scientific consulting firm and do specialized research for any company with enough money to pay for my services, and right now, that company is Verta.

  "You seriously need to stop leaning in when you talk to people, sir," Marcus says, breaking into my thoughts. "You always go in too far and get into people’s personal space. That woman was..."

  "That woman was the same one from the library, wasn’t she?" I interrupt, gripping tightly to his elbow and following his movements across the cafeteria. I know she was, but I’d rather talk about her than my poor manners.

  I can’t believe it was her! I knew I’d recognized that beautiful voice of hers. What’s she doing here? Why on earth is she working at the cafeteria, making sandwiches with an angelic voice like that? Why isn’t she singing opera or reading the evening news report or...

  ...or reading to children in the library, just like she was yesterday.

  Jesus, that’s practically perfect. She has the perfect voice for children’s books. Hell, she has the perfect voice for me—the sound of her voice lingers in my mind and tantalizes me all the way across the cafeteria.

  "Yes, sir," answers Marcus, a hint of irritation bleeding into his voice. "Your Rapunzel is indeed the sandwich girl, in case you haven’t already deduced it."

  "I have indeed," I answer him with a sniff. "The big giveaway was when she handed me a sandwich."

  "I still think she’s the sort of person you need as a personal assistant," he says, starting his usual lecture. "Someone young, someone with an imagination..."

  "Right, and I expect you’re big on the part where she’s female too, huh?"

  "Of course I am, Terrence," he answers with a sigh. "You’d like it too if you’d just give up on this ridiculous..."

  "Drop it, Marcus," I snap, and he goes silent.e.

  He always bugs me about how I don’t go out and is particularly opinionated about how I don’t date anyone. What does he think I’m going to do, though? It’s not like I can just get in the car and go meet people—I’m fucking blind. I even tried once, just to get him off my back, and the relationship blew up after two months. I don’t want to go through that again, and I don’t think I would date anymore even if I weren't blind. Not until I find Nina.

  Oh, who am I kidding? I have no idea what she’s like now. I wonder if she’d still love me after so many years. Does she even remember me?

  Probably not, I think. She’s probably moved on, married someone else. We were just teenagers, after all.

  Even so, I want to know what happened to her and where she ended up. I need to know that she’s safe now.

  I can feel the crowd around me and occasionally catch the flutter of someone’s arm against mine as we pass too close, but Marcus flawlessly guides me to our table as always. I can’t imagine doing this with a cane like I used to see in the movies; I’d be tripping people left and right, poking people in the shins, and left to my own devices, I’d probably still walk straight into the nearest wall.

  "Good afternoon, Terrence. Nice of you to join us," says a smooth voice to my left as I sit down. It’s Chen, my laboratory manager. Marcus designs all the projects on a technical level, but Chen’s the guy back there in the lab with the other workers making all the pieces come together.

  "Is it good? You’ll have to tell me."

  "I think it’s good," he says. "I haven’t gotten the shark’s blessing yet, so I’ll wait until she gets here."

  The shark is my lawyer Charlotte, of course. She arranged my company's contract with Verta and made sure we could get in here to do our research, and judging by the sudden silence at the table, she’s just arrived. The ear-grating sound of metal chair legs against cafeteria tile signals her arrival as she pulls her chair back from the table and takes a seat.

  "Good afternoon, Ms. Berger," says Chen nervously.

  "Terrence," she starts, completely ignoring Chen, "I haven’t received your plans to perform a review yet. When am I going to get them?"

  "Chen brought them," I answer, and then hopefully facing toward him, I add, "If you would be so kind as to do the honors?"

  The sound of blueprints rolling out onto the table indicates that I was right. Thank goodness—Charlotte would’ve eaten me alive for wasting her time. I still don’t get why she refuses to talk to Chen, but as long as she gets the job done, I can deal with it.

  In my mind, Charlotte is a prudish schoolteacher. She has brown hair, piercing eyes, and a hawkish nose that could probably blind me if my genes hadn’t already taken care of that. She’s slender, dresses well, and has a bad habit of frowning.

  Marcus has repeatedly told me that she’s a strawberry blonde and that apart from her constant frowns, I’m completely full of shit on all the other counts too. I still can’t change what I see, though. It’s always the
same image when Charlotte speaks, just like how whenever I imagine the girl from the library, it’s always Rapunzel with a chef hat. It’s completely backward, Cly how wtoo—Marcus told me she was wearing a chef’s outfit and had a wig, but instead she’s dressed like a princess while wearing a tall chef hat in my mind.

  My brain is starved for stimulus and doesn’t work so well these days.

  "Okay, so here’s the deal," starts Chen. "I’ve worked out the implantation system based on of Verta’s..."