Free Consider by Kristy Acevedo Page A

vertexes in Michigan, New Jersey, Ohio, Kentucky, Florida, New York, and South Dakota. The suicide rate has dropped since many people have jumped through a vertex instead of off a bridge. According to one report, “experts attribute these changes to a newfound hope in another world with better medical treatments and no need for wealth.” The mentally ill who haven’t left the planet, however, are checking into hospitals at a skyrocketing rate. Some are disappearing through other means. Experts believe those people have gone off the grid—out to unpopulated, wooded areas, bunkers. Their “inability to comprehend the message within the scope of their already intense paranoia” has finally splintered their brains and confirmed their worst fears.
    Note to self: keep an eye on Dad. Other than boxes in the basement and more beer cans in the recycling, he’s been okay. The light in his eyes is still on. But at any time, lightning could strike. Or a power outage. You’d think the lightning strikes would be the worst, but no, somehow the power outages hurt even more.
    A few top astrophysicists, mathematicians, and other adventurous types have also decided to take the plunge. The opportunity was too enticing for them to pass up. I think they’re just as crazy as the other people, but Dominick disagreed and explained their need to explore a part of space “where no [Earthling] has gone before.” I can’t argue with him when he uses Star Trek against me.
    Other people have started talking crap about the good the exodus will have on the nation:
    “Getting rid of the baggage that’s weighing the country’s economy down.”
    “Vertexes are cleaning up the gene pool.”
    “Dregs of the streets. Good riddance.”
    Even Dad and Benji have gotten onto this train of thought.
    I don’t understand how people can be so desperate and so mean. Life on Earth must be terrible for those leaving if they can risk everything for the slightest possibility that the holograms are actually telling the truth. I mean, we have no evidence that there’s a comet. It could all be an elaborate trap.
    I need evidence. Facts. Ambiguity breeds overreaction. I should know. I’m the queen of biological overreaction. We simply don’t have enough information to make a permanent decision. How can people, especially scientific people, make this kind of leap of faith? Can this level of hopelessness and disinterest in our planet really exist?
    Maybe Dominick’s right. Maybe I really am a Scully. But she always seemed so cool, calm, and collected, not sweaty, shaky, and scattered.
    "Come fishing with me tomorrow morning,” Dominick asks over the phone. His request catches me so off guard my bowl tips, sending a cold dribble of cookie dough ice cream down my bare leg.
    “But you said, and I quote, ‘I fish alone. Man versus fish.’ I remember the lofty speech.”
    I grab a T-shirt from my laundry basket to wipe my leg.
    “I changed my mind.”
    “Are you sure?” I know what he’s not saying. His father used to bring him on fishing trips. It was their thing.
    “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure.”
    The silent shift in our relationship is palpable. It’s a proposal of sorts. He’s inviting me deeper into his world, right when it’s almost time to let our worlds go.
    “Sure,” I say. My mind screams Don’t do it!
    “Six a.m. Bring a sweatshirt. It’s usually windy.”
    Early the next morning, I search through my bureau for something appropriate to wear on our fishing date. I choose jean shorts, a PatriotsT-shirt, canvas sneakers, and a “Life is Good”hat. My anxiety revs up inside my chest. I’m forgetting something. I know I’m forgetting something. Then I remember to grab a navy-blue sweatshirt like Dominick suggested. You would think that remembering I forgot something would make me feel better, but instead it justifies my anxiety, which starts a loop in my brain thinking that I must be forgetting something else.
    What else am I