Parallel

balloon fills with air, the dots get farther and farther from each other. The butterscotch candy dangles from a strand of tweed.
    “You said our universe.” Josh’s voice catches me by surprise. I turn to see him standing in the doorway, holding his notebook, a folded piece of paper on top.
    Dr. Mann stops blowing and smiles.
    “Ah. An observant listener.” The old man’s smile is enigmatic. “Ms. Barnes asked about Hubble’s law, which refers to the behavior of galaxies within our universe.”
    “Wait, there’s more than one universe?” I ask, confused again.
    “Of course,” Dr. Mann says, as though this is the most obvious thing in the world. “Haven’t you seen Star Trek ?” There’s a smattering of laughter from the class. Dr. Mann ties off the balloon and volleys it to me. It lands in the center of my desk. “But let’s focus on this one for today,” he says, just before the bell rings. “Our universe has enough troubles of its own.” He says something else after that, but the shrill sound of the morning bell drowns it out.
    I catch up with Tyler on D Hall. Except for a short bout of hysteria the night of the accident, Tyler has been his steady, pragmatic self since Ilana got hurt. Shaken, but not completely derailed by what happened to her. And why should he? He didn’t orchestrate the chain of events that put Ilana in that truck’s path. It was what I said to him that lit the fuse.
    “You look like crap,” Tyler says when he sees me. “When was the last time you washed your hair?”
    “Shut it. I’ve been in study mode.” Tyler doesn’t know how much time I’ve been spending at the hospital, either, or how little sleep I’ve been getting since the accident. “Hey, has Caitlin said anything to you about Josh?”
    “Your Josh?”
    “He’s not my Josh anymore,” I tell him. Because he’s Caitlin’s? It’s just a tiny kernel of doubt, but it’s there, lodged in my brain. Does she like him? Does he like her?
    “What happened?” Tyler asks.
    I shrug. “He wasn’t interested.”
    He rolls his eyes. “Are you an idiot? Wait, don’t answer that. Of course you are. Barnes, the guy got all googly-eyed every time he looked at you.”
    “He did not.”
    “Yeah, because I would make that up.”
    “If he was so interested, why didn’t he ever do anything about it?” I challenge.
    Tyler stops walking and looks at me. “Why are girls so ridiculous?”
    “What’s so ridiculous about wanting a guy to make the first move? And not some subtle, maybe-you-like-me-maybe-you’re-just-being-nice crap, either. What happened to the grand romantic gesture?”
    Tyler considers this. “How grand are we talking here?”
    “It’s too late,” I tell him. “He’s with Megan now.” That’s not what it looked like this morning. The kernel becomes an acorn of envy and fear.
    “Hot Megan?”
    I glare at him.
    “I meant, ‘Megan who looks like a troll’?”
    “Nice try,” I say, punching him in the arm. “I’ll see you later. Gorin hates when I’m late.” I pick up the pace to get to class. “Oh,” I say, stopping again. “Don’t tell Caitlin I asked about Josh,” I tell him.
    “I’ll add it to the list,” he says.
    I’m so preoccupied with the Caitlin/Josh mystery that I forget about my looming midterm until the lunch bell rings. My plan to sneak my lunch bag into the library for a last-minute cram session is thwarted by the throngs of kids with the same idea. All those wild-eyed people frantically turning pages threaten to throw me off my game, so I opt to study in the cafeteria instead. Caitlin and Tyler are at our regular table, with a couple of guys from the golf team. I slide in next to Caitlin and open my textbook. WHAT WERE YOU AND JOSH DOING THIS MORNING? my brain screams.
    “I saw your car here early,” I say casually, keeping my eyes on the page. Beside me, Caitlin bristles.
    “Could you move your book, please?” she snaps. “It’s digging into my arm.”
    “Sorry. Jeez.” I scoot my book over and try again. “So, were you—?”
    “I thought you were going to study in the library,” Caitlin says, not looking at me.
    “I tried. But everyone else from my class was in there. Their stress was stressing me out.”
    “Your stress is stressing me out,” Tyler says, not looking up. “I’m in the middle of a very important word battle here.” He and Efrain are sitting side by side, playing Words with Friends on their phones.
    “Fine,” I reply,