Always/Never

Chapter 17 / That Was Fun

"Oh, Michaela, you're in here," Gideon Parkland said, looking between the two of us. "I lost track of where you'd gone for a few minutes there."

"Sorry. I was... talking to Rory." Accha didn't sound apologetic as she shifted to stand in front of the phones.

I gave Parkland a smile, slipped Accha's application into my pocket, and reached for a cup beside the cooler. With a loud chug, the water poured into the ceramic mug that looked straight out of a department store; a calligraphy font that read 'Boss' plastered on its front.

For emphasis, I took a prolonged sip. Of course, the water was lukewarm. "And I'm getting something to drink. Oh, Michaela was telling me—am I late for my... results meeting?"

His smile flattened into a neatly pressed line. He was no taller than me, perhaps a few inches shorter without the obvious lift in his dress shoes, wearing a beige suit and burgundy tie. His hair was sandy, practically the same colour as his clothes, slightly curly at the ends despite the slickness of an obvious attempt to gel it back.

"Very late, yes. I had prepared a printout for you to review, so I may as well give it to you." He handed me a stapled, still-printer-warmed stack. "An inconclusive test result usually signifies that it could become positive in the future. So I printed out some algorithm predictions for your ability, which are quite impressive, but if you plan to query, I suggest doing so to another handler. I have to prioritize submissions who will respect my time."

I had to work to hold in my laugh. "Okay. I appreciate you for going through the trouble."

"Michaela," he said, "see to those contacts I gave you. One lives in Dalford, so she almost certainly can help you. Next time, though, it might be best to come on your own."

And with that, he was gone. I exhaled.

"I can't believe I got rejected twice," I said. "If this winds up becoming a time loop, I should try my luck for a third time."

Accha rubbed her forehead. "Desta vez um pouco perto demais. É melhor nós irmos." This time, it's a little too close for comfort. We'd better go.

At least the download was done. Getting out of here was an understatement. I picked up my pace with Accha on my heels. She tossed me my phone as I booked it to the car.

She didn't give me time to buckle my seatbelt before she sped away, the tires soundless against the asphalt even though she cut the wheel. It took a couple of seconds for me to figure out what she was thinking, a couple of seconds for her grip on the steering to loosen enough for her to pump her fist and let out a celebratory whoop. "That was kind of fun!"

I grinned. My heart did an excited leap, and for a second, nothing else mattered. Accha was laughing, and we'd somehow managed to work together, and all I'd ever wanted was for her to be happy.

That was fun.

We coasted to the highway. The sun brightened the roads. Soft hues of pink and orange intertwined like a braided cable above. The light bounced off my phone, casting patches in every direction, forming suns upon suns.

I checked my files. Step three. My downloads showed all of Parkland's texts and photos. For the next few hours, it was the only task I had.

First and foremost, his pictures. Considering it wasn't even his primary phone, most of it was screenshots of heroes he was responsible for, their files and information. Strange, but not exactly taboo.

"Hey," Accha said as she revved the engine, "do you know anyone with the alias Faith? Parkland gave me her contact information. Apparently, she works for him, and he thinks I should ask her for help about, you know... the whole being stuck situation."