Parallel

exceptionally clever. “Okay, people, that’s it. See you tomorrow morning, not a minute after five.”
    Is he kidding? Five in the morning?
    The group disperses. Most of the girls head for the locker room, while a few linger on the deck, enjoying the morning sun. I move toward the building, hoping for a stealthy exit.
    “Hey, Ab, wait up.”
    I turn. It’s the girl from the bus again. The hat is gone now, her curls loose, and her sweatshirt is stuffed into the bag slung over her tanned shoulder. “We still on for brunch?” she asks.
    “Oh. I, uh—” Mentioning my brunch with Caitlin and Tyler feels risky. Without knowing how close my parallel is with this girl, I can’t be sure how bailing on her for plans with someone else would go over. Would she be majorly offended? Would she invite herself to join us? I close my eyes and grimace. “Sorry. I’ve just had this headache all morning.” I wince and press my temples. “It’s so weird, every time I talk, it gets worse.”
    “Oh, no. Maybe we should scrap brunch?”
    “Yeah, maybe so,” I respond, my voice thick with disappointment. Dial it back, Barnes. It’s just brunch.
    My fake headache works like a charm. I get out of brunch and avoid the risk of an awkward conversation on the ride back to campus. As a bonus, I get to listen while Britta (the girl from the bus) and Annika (Celery Girl) gossip about nearly everyone on the team. I now know that Ginger, another coxswain, doesn’t shave her legs, and that Bobbi, our team captain, is sleeping with her history TA. They ask about Michael, leading me to believe that I must be decently close with these girls, but other than that, they seem generally uninterested in the details of my life, perhaps because the other girls on the team provide more than enough fodder for discussion.
    As soon as I step off the bus, I head for Caitlin’s room.
    “I can’t live like this,” I announce when she opens the door.
    “So I guess this means I was wrong,” she says, stepping aside to let me in.
    “Oh, no, you were right. Turns out I rock the cox box.” I look around. “Where’s Tyler?”
    “In the shower. So, what was it like?” she asks excitedly. “Was it so super cool?” When I don’t react, her enthusiasm fades. “Why don’t you look happy?”
    “Because this isn’t my life,” I say simply. “ She might want to spend her mornings—and her afternoons, by the way—freezing her ass off, not getting any real exercise, crouched in a space designed for small children. But, I, Abby, elect not to spend my free time staring at some girl’s camel toe.”
    Caitlin wrinkles her nose. “Spare me the visual, please.”
    “Whatever you’re picturing, it was worse in real life.” I toss my bag on the floor and fall back onto her bed, sinking into navy silk. The sheets were a gift from her mom, who’s convinced that cotton causes wrinkles. “Never again,” I vow. “The madness stops today.”
    “Meaning what?”
    “I’m getting my life back. My life.”
    “Abby, this is your life.”
    “How can you say that? Someone else is deciding what happens to me!”
    “Yes, but that ‘someone else’ is doing exactly what you would’ve done in the same situation.”
    “You’re acting like she and I are the same person,” I scoff, staring up at the ceiling.
    “That’s what makes her your parallel. She’s you, in different circumstances.”
    “No,” I said, shaking my head so emphatically that my cheeks brush silk. “She and I may be sharing brain waves, but she’s not me.”
    “I know it freaks you out,” Caitlin says gently. “But Abby, that’s what our parallel selves are. By definition. You can’t keep separating ‘you’ from ‘her’ and ‘us’ from ‘them.’”
    “That’s not what Dr. Mann said.”
    Caitlin sighs. “Dr. Mann needs you to be distinct from your parallel in order to preserve free will.”
    “You don’t believe in free will?” I gape at her.
    “Free will is an illusion, Abby. Our actions are determined by our biological makeup. That’s what I’ve been trying to explain.”
    I refuse to accept this but know better than to debate with Caitlin about science. If you can even call this science. I put on a plastic smile. “So I guess that means my parallel self will quit crew next September. You know, if she’s just like me.”
    Caitlin sighs. “Abby. I get it. You feel powerless and it bugs you. But quitting the crew team won’t give you your old life