SEVEN YEARS AGO . . .
"Is everyone ready?" Dad excitedly asked us.
I sat on the couch with my mother and my three-year-old baby brother, Evan. My mother tried to keep him distracted with her phone so he wouldn't wriggle out of her grip. I turned ten-years-old the day before and thought it was another surprise gift for me.
"Ready!" Mom and I shouted.
He stood in front of our large television screen in a game-show-host fashion. He liked to be silly most of the time and it made me laugh. He waved his hands around like a magician and stepped away from blocking our view.
A video started to play showing me as a little baby. In the film, my tiny fingers held tightly to Yam—my fluffy Persian cat that went to "Cat Heaven" a year ago. It had been really hard on me to handle Yam's death. My parents spent a whole week trying to keep me from crying at night.
"Why are we watching this?" I mumbled and felt myself get upset all over again.
My father was a handsome, tall Korean man with a full set of dark hair and thick black-rimmed glasses. He crouched down in front of me and wore a comforting smile. "Remember how upset you were about losing Yam?" he asked.
I nodded and rubbed at my nostrils.
Yam was special to me; she'd been with me since birth for the first nine years of my life. She died because of me. Yam was an indoor cat, and I didn't understand why she had to stay inside. So one day, I let her go outside to play in the yard with me. Yam saw squirrels for the first time and wanted to chase one, she went out onto the road. She didn't know anything about cars or what they could do to her. That was the last time I played with Yam.
"Go into the kitchen," Dad said with a wide grin.
I glanced up at my mother to see if she knew what was going on. Her confused expression showed that she felt just as clueless as me.
My hands pushed down against the couch and I lowered myself down until my toes touch the carpet. My heart raced and I didn't even know why. I just knew something mind-blowing and related to Yam was probably in the kitchen.
Did he get me another cat? That had to be it!
I ran into the kitchen. On top of the table, there was a kitty-carrying case. It was bright blue and lined with soft, fuzzy padding. A small face looked out from the meshed-fabric on the front of the carrier.
I knew it!
Quickly, I unzipped open the carrier and lifted out the cat to hug it against my chest. She was so fluffy, and sweet-tempered, just like Yam was.
"Mom! Dad got me a new kitty!" I called out.
Mom kept hold of Evan's hand and stood in the entryway to the kitchen. My Dad took a seat at the kitchen table and appeared very proud of himself for this birthday gift. He made me proud too.
"You know I'm a Geneticist, Maggie," Dad said, but I continued hugging my new cat instead of listening to him. "I have been working with a new company owned by Paulsen Genetic Research. The company is called Never-Die. Can you guess why?"
I tilted my head. I thought I was a smart ten-year-old, but right then I felt pretty stupid.
He looked calm and patient with my slowness. "At our company, we ensure that no one's pets ever have to die and no animal will never go extinct again. The reason that kitty looks, smells, and feels so much like Yam is because she is Yam. We were able to grow and age her to exactly the age she was when died."
Suddenly, a wave of emotions came over me—mostly fear, but some joy and sadness too. I watched Yam die, how could she not be dead? I examined the cat in my arms. She had a mole on her lower lip just like Yam, and her unique little signature white mustache. It really was Yam—or at least it looked just like Yam.
"Yam?" I asked the cat.
The cat stared up at me. No signs of recognition reflected in her eyes, only curiosity. That was not how Yam used to respond to hearing her name. The real Yam would meow and try to paw at my nose. I became angry.
"It's not Yam!" I said tearfully.
Dad turned less patient, he tried to pat my arm and turn his warm gaze into a serious stare. "Yes, it is, Maggie. This is Yam. She just needs time to relearn and remember everything you shared together."
I shook my head and refused it all. "It's not Yam! Yam is dead!"
I left the cat on top of the kitchen table and did the only thing my ten-year-old mind could handle—ran to my room. I slammed my door shut and threw myself onto my bed and sunk into a mass of stuffed unicorns and penguins.
There were three small taps against my door.
"Can I come in?"
My mother's voice.
I tried to wipe all the tears off my face. "Yeah."
My mother was a sweet-faced woman of Filipino descent. She made sure that I knew nothing in the world was more important to her than Evan and I. Whenever there would be a disagreement or I'd get upset, my mother usually fixed everything.
She sat on the bed with me and rubbed at my back.
"It's not Yam, mom," I said.
"So don't call her Yam, think of her as Yam's twin sister. You know how there are twins that look the same?"
I nodded.
"Okay, so this is her sister. She needs a good home. What can we name her?"
I looked upward thoughtfully. "Hm . . . maybe Cindy?"
She laughed. "Wow, okay, that's nothing even close to sounding like Yam."
"That's why it's perfect, mom. She is not ever going to be Yam, she is Cindy . . . "
FOUR YEARS LATER . . .
Located in New York, Paulsen Science & Arts Academy was a high-school with a really high requirement. You either had to be extremely smart to be accepted or come from a wealthy family. I was neither of these things, my father worked for the Paulsen's company and one of the perks included allowing selected employees children to attend PS&A Academy.
I was luckier than most of the freshmen attending; I already had a group of friends joining with me. Lizzy Jones and Natalie Stone were the daughters of my dad's co-workers. We bonded two-years-ago at a Never-Die Company holiday picnic.
The three of us rode to school together in Lizzy's mom's black sedan. The car pulled right up to the curb in front of a large brick building that looked more like a college university than a high school. The color schemes were all brick-red and soft teals, even our uniforms. Long teal banners hung down in front of the entrance with the names of all the various nationally claimed awards earned by PS&A.
"I'm so excited," Lizzy chirped and tapped her toes against the floor of the car. "We're high-schoolers today!"
"I heard this school has a lot of really cute boys," Natalie added in.
Lizzy's mom laughed and unlocked the doors. "How about you three just focus on your grades, okay?"
"We will Mrs. Jones. Thank you for the ride," I said politely.
We climbed out of the car and stood closely together to take it all in. This door was going to be what I'd see practically every day for the next four years. Yes, I was excited, but I was also really intimidated. My old school had an easy curriculum and I managed to coast by on a B average. This school didn't tolerate students who pulled less than a B average and their curriculum maintained a reputation for being like college courses. I just didn't want this school to eat me alive.
"Maggie? Are you okay? You didn't say much on the ride here," Lizzy asked.
I smiled at her and shyly shook my head. "I guess I'm just nervous."
Lizzy hugged onto my arm and bobbed her head a few times. "Me too."
"Not me," Natalie said with a snort. "You know who's attending with us? Felix Paulsen. He's the heir to pretty much everything we see here."
"Really?" I sounded way too curious.
Okay, so I admit I was a little interested. I'd only seen Felix once, it was at the same picnic I met Lizzy and Natalie when we were twelve. His father arrived to give the workers a pep-talk and Felix stepped up to the mic to introduce himself and thank everyone for helping his dad. After that, the two left to catch a plane. He might have only been there for a few moments, but I remember he had curly hair and a friendly smile.
"Yeah, but just so you girls know, I want to date him," Natalie said while looking between us.
Lizzy and I didn't protest. We were more concerned about the first day of school, our dating life—non-existent dating life—wasn't exactly on our schedule for the day. Besides, my parents told me that I couldn't even sit beside a boy until the age of sixteen.
Natalie wasn't like us; tall, blonde, beautiful, and ambitious. Since she was three her mother exposed her to the modeling world. She'd been in a few small clothing ads and won two local pageants. Her self-confidence level and maturity grew much higher than the average fourteen-year-old.
Lizzy and I still looked twelve. But unlike myself, Lizzy was pretty with big-curly hair, hazel eyes, and brown skin. People mistook me for a twelve-year-old boy instead of a high-school girl. I was pretty sure that no boy would be interested in me until I reached college.
We entered into the school building together, talking, laughing, and secure in our friendship. We believed that we'd be the best of friends for the rest of our lives. Natalie vowed that she would become a famous super-model and marry Felix Paulsen. Lizzy's ambition was to become a chemist like her father and work for Felix Paulsen. I wanted to be an artist, hopefully not a starving one.
"Let's go around the classroom and introduce ourselves, okay?" Miss Whitman said.
Miss Stacey Whitman wore a teal silk blouse and a black pencil skirt. Her face easily could have been in a magazine, she seemed too young to be teaching high-school. She would be my art teacher for that year.
There were no familiar faces in my class, but I expected it. Most students attended PS&A for the Sciences, not the Arts. There were only seven other students in the class with me and they didn't seem like the talking types. Each student stood up and shyly stated who they were. A tall girl with long hair that hid her face said she was Amanda. A boy who looked like he might be Korean like me stood up and said he was Kevin. Then I was next.
I opened my mouth to say my name.
"I am so sorry, Miss Whitman—" a curly-haired teen with a carefree smile interrupted my introduction with one of his own. He looked directly at me and pressed his hands together to form a gesture of prayer. "Forgive me! I didn't mean to cut you off there, I'm sure you have a lovely name. I'm sure everyone here has lovely names. And maybe if I seem really, genuinely sorry the lovely Miss Whitman will excuse me being tardy on the first day of class."
Miss Whitman rubbed at the bridge of her nose and sighed really hard.
"Take a seat, Felix," she demanded.
My eyes widened. Felix Paulsen? He didn't have breath-taking looks, but that didn't mean he wasn't attractive.
"Students, this is my nephew, Felix Torsten Paulsen and he will not be receiving special treatment for being late. Here at PS&A everyone is equal," she explained.
Felix sat himself down at the desk right next to mine. Since there were only eight of us in total, our desks were all bought together in a close circle. Felix was at arm's length of me.
Miss Whitman continued talking and her class. She didn't notice that I never gave my introduction she just went on. I was used to that from my old school, I'd been invisible and forgotten there. I'd hoped that high-school would be different.
"You never said your name," a voice whispered to me.
I turned to my side and Felix smiled like a kid excitedly waiting for a carousel ride. I blinked at him a few times and tried to process what exactly he expected from me. I shyly stared at the surface of my desk instead of his beaming face.
"I am Margaret Rae Park, but no one calls me Margaret, they call me—"
"Maggie?" he guessed and followed with a wince. "Oops, I interrupted you again. Bad habit."
I ended up smiling too and somehow found enough courage to actually meet his eyes.
"Yeah, it's Maggie."
"Nice to meet you, Maggie."
"Nice to meet you, Felix . . . "