Bubble World

by Carol Snow

  “It’s not like I asked to be sent away,” Freesia said. “So you have no right to be angry.”

  “I am not angry!” Angel said angrily. Her phone buzzed. She picked it up and tapped furiously at the screen.

  “I didn’t even know where I was,” Freesia said. “Or who I was.” When Angel didn’t respond, she gave up and retreated to her own room to tackle her remedial homework.

  * * *

  “Knock, knock.” In the open doorway, her father held a shopping bag.

  She looked up from the worksheets scattered across her bed. “Hi.”

  Father gestured to the bubblepod. “I guess we should get rid of that, huh?”

  “No rush.” Freesia wasn’t ready to say good-bye to her last physical link to Agalinas, even if it did crowd the room.

  Father held up the bag. “I got you a present.”

  “Really?” Freesia loved presents.

  It was a phone. Not just any phone, but a smartphone. (Which was good, because Freesia didn’t want to get stuck with a stupidphone.)

  “I added you to our family plan,” Father said. “You can talk, text, e-mail, check the Web, take pictures, play games … and other stuff I’ll never figure out.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I think I was born a hundred years too late. Or maybe even two hundred. Guess that’s why I like history so much. The world was so much simpler then.”

  Freesia ran a finger over the shiny phone. “This is vicious. Thank you, Father.”

  He patted her shoulder. “You’re welcome. And I’d actually prefer if you called me Dad.”

  Freesia cradled the rectangle in her palm and gazed at the blank screen. The phone wasn’t as pretty as her bubble, and it didn’t change sizes, but from what she’d seen from Angel as well as the kids at Tumbleweed High, it was pretty magical. Plus, unlike her bubble, the smartphone was—this word still made her uncomfortable—real.

  “You know, Father—I mean Dad—earlier today I was thinking about teaching.”

  Father shook his head, “For goodness’ sake, Francine, don’t become a teacher! It’s like a life sentence. I’d rather see you in prison. The food’s probably better.”

  “I was thinking about you, I mean. Maybe you’d be happier doing something else.”

  He sighed. “It’s too late. Teaching is all I know.”

  “That’s not true! You know so much about history, I’m surprised you can fit it all in your head.”

  “I do possess a lot of knowledge.”

  “And passion! You have passion for history. And you know what knowledge plus passion equals?”

  Father considered. “What?”

  “It equals something,” Freesia said. “Something wonderful. You just have to figure out what it is.”

  * * *

  Freesia rapped on Angel’s door. No answer.

  She tried again, harder this time. Still no answer.

  She opened her palm and pounded full force.

  “Stop! That! Now!” Mother appeared at her office door.

  “What is Angel’s phone number?” Freesia asked.

  Mother told her.

  Freesia sat down on the floor outside her sister’s room and leaned against the white wall. She pulled out her phone and pecked at it with her index finger. She might be here for a while, but it wasn’t like she had anyplace else to go.

  Angel, can we talk? (Send.)

  Dad got me a phone. (Send.)

  I know you’re in there. (Send.)

  How do I put in the numbers of people I might want to call? (Send.)

  At least I won’t be using your computer anymore. At least as much. (Send.)

  Come on, Angel. Give me five minutes! (Send.)

  Angel flung open the door. “We have limited text messaging! If you don’t stop texting me, there will be extra charges on both of our phones and Mom will make us pay!”

  Freesia scrambled off the floor and grinned. This hadn’t taken long at all, and she was getting faster with the keypad.

  “How do I put names in my phone?”

  “You mean like contacts?”

  “I guess.”

  Angel’s eyes narrowed. “What? You want to text Iris?”

  “I don’t have her number. The only numbers I have are Adam’s and yours.”

  “Who’s Adam? Film guy Adam or waterpolo player Adam? Or the Adam with the pierced tongue and the plugs?”

  “Uh … film guy.”

  Angel considered. “He’s pretty cute.”

  “Does that mean you’ll show me how to add … whatsit—contacts? Because Adam’s cute?”

  Angel rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say he was cute. I said he was pretty cute.” She took Freesia’s phone and showed her what to do.

  Back in her room, Freesia settled on the recliner (it was her only chair) and composed a text.

  Dear Adam, You gave me your number once but I didn’t have a phone then but now I do. So now you have my number. I hope you are having a nice day. I tried to sit outside but it was too hot. And also my dad said he saw a big snake in the yard last week. Your friend, Freesia

  Hand starting to cramp, Freesia hit Send, thinking how weird it was to launch words out into the universe.

  Less than a minute later, the phone buzzed. Adam had responded.

  thx

  Knock-knock … knock, knock, knock … KNOCK!

  The door swung open. It was getting easier to wear Angel down.

  “What does T-H-X mean?” She showed her sister the message.

  “Thanks.” Angel shut the door, just missing Freesia’s nose.

  Dear Adam, You’re welcome! I forgot to say this in my last text but you were right about the blooming cactuses. They’re really pretty. I can’t wait to see more. Your friend, Freesia

  (Send.)

  Adam, I forgot to say this in my last last text but my mother says it should be cacti not cactuses but I think that sounds weird. YF, Freesia

  (Send.)

  After a longer pause than before, her phone buzzed with Adam’s response.

  Cool.

  Freesia stared at the message for a while, not quite comprehending. And then she sent a text to Angel.

  What does it mean when you send someone a long text and he answers with one word?

  (Send.)

  If you answer with one word I will go back to pounding on your door.

  (Send.)

  Angel texted back right away.

  It means he doesn’t like you. Or maybe he’s mad at you. He’s not that cute so don’t feel bad. I have a few minutes if you want me to show you how to use your phone.

  34

  When Freesia stumbled into the kitchen a few mornings later to toast a strawberry Pop-Tart and brew a strong cup of coffee, she found Mother, in full makeup, wearing one of her new wrap dresses.

  “Wow. You look—”

  “I tried to do the bronzer like you showed me, but it makes me look orange, so I’m going to take it all off and start over.” She checked her cell phone. “Shoot. There isn’t time.”

  “Are you—”

  “I have an interview. Some distance from here. I’ll be flying. I told your father to get takeout on the way home, because I won’t be home till after dinner. Does the bronzer make me look orange?”

  Freesia squinted at her mother’s unnaturally colored face. “It’ll look good on camera,” she said at last.

  * * *

  Later that day, Freesia was at the inconvenient store with her new friends when Iris said, “Jack’s party Saturday night. Yay or nay?”

  Alex said nay, but Kendy and Morgan said yay, so Alex changed her vote.

  “Who’s Jack?” Freesia asked.

  “Basketball player.” Iris stuck a piece of greasy pizza in the microwave. “A moron and a jerk. But he’s got a big house and a huge backyard and his parents go out of town a lot, so who cares.”

  “I adore parties!” Freesia was so excited, her voice squeaked. “Is there a theme? Like luau or carnival or ballet?”

/>   Everyone laughed, but not in a mean way.

  “Is that a no?” Freesia asked.

  “That’s a no,” Morgan said.

  Freesia forced a smile. She was always doing this—saying things that people found weird or amusing. Back in Agalinas, that never happened. Back in Agalinas, her friends understood her. She and Jelissa were so close, they could practically read each other’s minds.

  The microwave beeped, and Iris took out the pizza.

  Kendy pulled out her phone, so Freesia did too. Their phones were the same except Kendy’s phone case was bright green and Freesia’s was bright pink. After school and between classes they all texted each other. No one had anything to say, but there was something reassuring about feeling your phone buzz. It meant you weren’t so alone in the world.

  With her entire circle of friends surrounding her, Freesia had no one to text, so she put the phone in camera mode. She posterized shots of the slurry machine, the hot dog warmer, the magazine display. Then she changed the setting to vintage and aimed at Morgan’s sneakers.

  In the real world, everything looked better through a distorted lens.

  A half hour later, she was drawing a bowl of fruit in art class when her phone vibrated in her back pocket. Phones were supposed to be off in class, but if you put your phone on silent, no teacher would ever say anything, even though at times the layers of low vibration sounded like a swarm of bees.

  Freesia snuck a peek at the display: Ricky.

  How odd. Since she got her phone, Ricky had sent her occasional texts but had never made an actual phone call. What could be so urgent?

  * * *

  After the final bell, she was heading outside to find a quiet place to call Ricky when she almost tripped over Erin on the concrete steps in front of the school.

  “Francine! I mean Freesia.” Erin scrambled to her feet. She was wearing a black T-shirt two sizes too big and gray jeans that might have been comfortable if it were thirty degrees cooler outside. “I keep seeing you in the halls, but you never see me, I guess. Can you talk?”

  “Um, I need to make a call.” Freesia had seen Erin in the halls, but before this she’d been quick to look away.

  “Oh, right. I guess, then … does that mean you got a phone? Because if you give me your number, I’ll call you or text or whatever. Maybe we can get together sometime. You can come over again or—”

  Oh, no. Freesia did not want to go to Erin’s house. She didn’t want to talk to Erin, either, but it was better to get it out of the way.

  “I guess I can talk now. Just not for long.”

  “Oh, right. Awesome. I…”

  Freesia’s eyes flicked over the students milling about. With the temperature climbing, most students had traded jeans and hoodies for jean shorts and T-shirts. It wasn’t much of an improvement. This weather was perfect for sundresses and seersucker. Why didn’t anyone see that?

  “… and I know it’s largely my fault,” Erin said.

  “What did you say?” Freesia refocused on her former friend’s normally pink face, which was now closer to red. Whether that was from the heat or her discomfort, it was hard to say.

  Erin cleared her throat. “I said we’re not close like we used to be, and it’s largely my fault. But I hope we can be friends again.”

  Freesia blinked. “It’s not largely your fault.”

  Erin put a hand on her heart and smiled with relief.

  Freesia shook her head. “It’s all your fault. We stopped being friends because you told me you no longer wanted to be friends.”

  Erin made a funny little noise and tried to speak. “I … it’s … when…”

  “I’ve got to make a call.” Freesia headed down the steps.

  “Wait!”

  Freesia turned.

  “I’m sorry! I was just a stupid kid, and I hate that I hurt you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. All these years, I’ve never found anyone to replace you.” Erin reached under the neck of her black T-shirt and pulled out a pendant. It was the right half of a broken heart. “Look. Our best friends necklace, remember?”

  There was writing on the necklace: ST. Erin’s broken heart was the missing half to the one Freesia had found in the cardboard box in her closet. Together they spelled BEST.

  Erin slipped the necklace back into her T-shirt. “It’s stupid that I wear it, I guess. I mean, a lot of things I do are stupid. But I’ve had it forever. It’s my good luck charm.”

  Sweat slithered down Freesia’s back. She had to get out of the sun. She had to get away from Erin.

  “I found another best friend. I’m sorry you didn’t.”

  Long ago, Erin had abandoned Freesia. Now it was Freesia’s turn to walk away. They were even. So why did she feel so icky inside?

  * * *

  Around the side of the school, Freesia found a semishady spot under a straggly excuse for a tree. Since she’d started school, the temperatures had crept up from the high eighties to the midnineties, and it was only April.

  She leaned against the tree as she pressed the button to call Ricky. She didn’t dare sit; mixed in with dust and gravel there could be spiders or scorpions or prickers.

  The phone rang three times, and then Ricky answered. “Your mother is here.”

  Freesia was confused. “You mean in your room?”

  “No, in my house.” He paused to wheeze. “Though she stopped by to gawk at me earlier.”

  Freesia forced herself to focus on the content of what was being said and not on Ricky’s labored breathing. “My mother told me she was traveling someplace for an interview, but I had no idea that it would be to you. Did she ask you questions? Did she try to film you?”

  “She didn’t come to see me. She came to see my dad.” He wheezed again. “But she wasn’t interviewing him. It was the other way around.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It was a job interview. I think your mother is going to work for Bright Planet.”

  * * *

  “I didn’t tell you that I was going to see Dick Levine because I thought you’d want to come with me,” Mother said later that night.

  Freesia shook her head. “I had a quiz in chemistry. I couldn’t have gone anyway.”

  That wasn’t the real reason. Freesia couldn’t have gone because she couldn’t bear to see Ricky trapped in his prison of flesh.

  “And also, I didn’t want you to get your hopes up. I didn’t want you to think that just because I’m Bright Planet’s new social media coordinator—it has a nice ring, don’t you think?—that your father and I would entrust you to yet another untested education program.”

  Freesia swallowed her disappointment. “What does a social media coordinator do?”

  “I’ll spread the word about Bright Planet’s innovation. I’ll build social networks and make friends all over the world … without ever having to leave my office.” Mother cleared her throat. “Dick Levine offered to enroll you in the new program for free. But I told him that we’d fallen for slick talk once before and that you’re paying the price.”

  “I understand.”

  “I told him that your father and I would need proof that Bright Planet was more than just a gimmick.”

  “I understand.”

  Mother paused for effect. “And then he showed me a video that laid everything out. The research, the curriculum—everything was mapped out before the Bubble World launch, but Todd Piloski went and scrapped most of it. Bright Planet will take everyone back to the basics, with a core curriculum that emphasizes literature classics, building-block math concepts, mwah, mwah … mwah mwah mwah. Mwah and mwah and mwah.…”

  Freesia tuned out. This was beyond borrifying.

  Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her pocket.

  Kendy

  I ate two plates of spaghetti n now I have a food baby

  Freesia tapped her reply: O no!

  “Francine? Did you hear what I just said?”

  “Huh?” She slipped her phone
back in her pocket.

  “I said the video Dick showed me, along with his impressive list of medical and pharmaceutical consultants, was all the proof I needed that Bright Planet will be everything that Bubble World was supposed to be. Dick impressed me. I can see him becoming a close personal friend.”

  “So…”

  “The Bright Planet launch is scheduled for Monday. You can go back to Agalinas. If you want to, I mean.”

  Freesia stared at her mother. In her pocket, her phone buzzed. She ignored it.

  “I want to,” she whispered.

  35

  Saturday night found Freesia in the living room with Angel, both of them waiting for rides to Jack’s house. She’d almost texted Iris to say she wasn’t going to the party. It seemed weird to go on acting like everything was the same, but it would be weirder still to tell them that she was going back to Agalinas. They wouldn’t understand. But Freesia had two more days to get through, and she did adore a sparkly celebration.

  Besides, Mother would only let Angel go to the party if Freesia went. “So you can keep an eye on her.”

  “You better come,” Angel snarled. And Freesia agreed even though her sister could have at least said “please.”

  Monday morning, right before she got back in her bubblepod, Freesia would send Iris and the others a group text to let them know she was gone. That way, she wouldn’t have to see their reactions.

  Angel looked her up and down. “You’re not wearing that.”

  “I am wearing this. Obviously.” Freesia tossed her temporarily straight and glossy hair and smoothed down her dress.

  I look vicious, Freesia told herself, though of course she didn’t. The dress was ivory lace, with a scoop neck and long sleeves. Too late, she realized that the color washed her out and the cut of the dress accentuated her body’s pear quality.