Parallel

back.”
    “I know that,” I snap. “But if I do something she would never do—like quitting a sport she loves, or at least, pretends to—then at least she won’t be calling the shots anymore.”
    “Oh, yeah? If you quit just to spite her, then what’s changed? Her actions are still dictating yours.” Caitlin’s voice is matter-of-fact, the way she gets when she’s convinced she’s right.
    As irritated as I am by her tone, her words give me pause. If I quit the team just to prove a point, then on some level, my parallel will still be running the show. But what’s the alternative? Letting my life be a carbon copy of hers? Unacceptable.
    “You might be right,” I tell her. “But if I stay on this path, my entire college experience will be affected by her decision to become a coxswain. My schedule, my time, my friends, my resume. All of it.” I shake my head, resolute. “No. This path ends today.”
    Caitlin sighs. “Fine. Quit the team. But don’t expect everything to change just because you do.”
    Just then, the door to Caitlin’s common room opens and Tyler appears, wearing nothing but boxers and holding a pink shower caddy.
    “Ah! My eyes are burning!” I shriek, quickly looking away.
    “I know. A body this hot should come with a warning label and some protective glasses.”
    “Pants! Please!” I yelp.
    “I didn’t realize you were such a prude, Barnes,” Tyler says, grabbing a pair of jeans from the open suitcase on the floor.
    “It’s you ,” I say, making a face. “Ew.” Caitlin laughs out loud.
    “Thanks,” Tyler says dryly. He pulls a shirt over his head. “How was practice?”
    “Practice sucked,” I tell him. “I’m quitting the team.”
    “Yeah, right,” Tyler replies. “You’ve never quit anything in your life.”
    I’m looking at Caitlin as I answer. “I guess I’m not as predictable as you thought.”
    After brunch, Caitlin takes Tyler to the airport, and I head back to my room. As I’m passing through the High Street gate, a fluorescent green flyer tacked to the outdoor bulletin board catches my eye, and I stop.
OPEN AUDITIONS FOR
MARY ZIMMERMAN’S METAMORPHOSES
YALE’S 2009/2010 FRESHMAN SHOW
MONDAY, OCTOBER 12, 2009
2 P.M.–5 P.M.
@ 301 CROWN STREET
SIGN-UP SHEET ON THE DOOR AT 222 YORK STREET
    In my mind, I’m there again, standing on the stage in the Brookside auditorium, struggling through my audition piece. Ms. Ziffren is smiling. Ilana is snickering. The stage lights are hot on my face. I’m thinking, Why am I up here? This isn’t me. Yet somehow my name ends up at the top of that cast list. It seemed like such a small thing—just a silly school play—but it turned out to be such a big thing. The doorway to something huge. The opportunity to discover a talent I never imagined I had.
    My parallel won’t get to experience any of that. She’s not taking Ziffren’s class, so she won’t be forced to overcome her stage fright for the sake of her grade, surprising herself and everyone else in the class by getting the lead. Which means she won’t get Ms. Ziffren’s crash course on method acting. Which means she won’t be able to wow a Hollywood casting director with her “kinetic” portrayal of Thomasina Coverly on opening night. Which means she won’t get the chance to spend four months on a movie set. Which means no matter what happens in the parallel world, she’ll never acquire the skills I now have. She’s already missed her chance for that.
    Suddenly, I see it.
    I have something she doesn’t.
    The hair on my arm prickles. The fact that I kept my old memories is more than an oddity of science—it’s a gift. Unlike everyone else in the world, I haven’t forgotten who I was before the collision. Which means I can become that person again. A person my parallel will never be.
    My mind starts to race, leaping ahead, connecting the dots. Parallel Abby can have my beloved Plan. She can have all the writing classes, and my subscription to the New York Times , and all the nights and weekends I spent in the Brookside newspaper lab. She can have the YDN , the prestigious internship, the impressive job, the fancy byline that I always imagined I’d have. She can be the person I was going to be.
    I’ll be someone else.
    The thought is exhilarating.
    I see it so clearly now. Caitlin is right: Trying to undo what my parallel has done won’t give me autonomy. To prove my independence, it’s not enough to do things my parallel wouldn’t do;