Fast-Tracked by Tracy Rozzlynn

tell I was wavering, so she reached across me and rang the doorbell. I started to turn, but she placed a steadying hand on my shoulder to keep me there.
    We stood silently for a long time – then, eventually, the door opened and reaveled a very exhausted looking Camille.
    “What do you want?” she snapped and gave us both a cold glare.
    “Hi, Camille. Is your mom or dad home?” my mom whispered in the voice she usually reserved for funerals.
    “No, they both had to work,” Camille grumbled and rolled her eyes at us. I wanted to reach out and comfort her, but I knew in her current state she would only lash out more.
    “Oh, okay. Are you alright here by yourself, you and Byron? Or would you like some company?” my mom asked sweetly.
    “No, Byron’s not here. He had to report to his new assignment today – or didn’t Lexi tell you?” she snarled incredulously.
    I found my voice. “What? Byron’s gone already? Where did he go? He’s going to be back though, right?” I was in a panic. I opened my mouth to ask more questions, but my mother squeezed my shoulder and told me to take a deep breath. So instead I pleaded to Camille with my eyes – but hers never met mine. Instead she looked straight ahead, straight through my mother.
    “No, he’s gone for good. He’s not coming back. He didn’t know exactly where he would be assigned, but he also said he wouldn’t tell us. He wants us all to forget about him and pretend he never existed so we can get on with our lives. As if that was even possible. How can we get on with life when we know everything is just so wrong?” Camille broke down into sobs, but the tears never followed. She must have cried them all out and didn’t have any more to give. My mom wrapped a comforting arm around her, but she recoiled from it and spat, “Don’t you touch me! It’s entirely his fault and you know it. If your husband just had a little bit of a spine we wouldn’t be in this situation.” The heat of her anger was rolling off her in waves.
    My mom was at complete loss for words. I couldn’t tell if it was because she knew what Camille was talking about or if she was confused as I was. Eventually she composed herself and said, “I’m sorry you feel that way. I made your mom a casserole. I’m sure right now she doesn’t feel like cooking. Could you please give this to her and pass along my condolences?” My mom pressed the casserole dish into Camille’s hands. Camille didn’t say anything more, but she took the dish before closing the door on us.
    I just stood there staring at the dark blue paint of the door, until my mom gently turned me around and led me back to the house. How could I have forgotten that orange level workers report immediately to be processed and assigned their work assignments? I thought I was giving him time to cool down, but all I was doing was allowing him to slip away and disappear from my life forever. I would never even get to say my goodbye.
     
    My mom guided me back to our house. An unbearable ache had taken hold in my chest. It took all my energy just to breathe. I felt so defeated and tired. If I couldn’t wake up from this nightmare, then all I wanted to do was close my eyes and sleep for the rest of my life.
    I dragged myself back to my bedroom. I closed my blinds, turned the light off, and closed the door, leaving me in complete darkness. I hid myself under my blanket and buried my head in my pillows in a futile attempt to drown out the world.
    But as tired as I felt, my mind wouldn’t let me sleep.
    I kept replaying events in my head. What did my dad have to do with any of this? Both Byron and Camille had mentioned him, but what impact could he possibly have had on the assessment process? It just didn’t make sense. But then, nothing made sense anymore.
    Eventually the torment of my thoughts slipped into tormented dreams. I saw Byron in obvious distress. I kept trying to get to him, but no matter what I did, he remained just out of