Disconnect

by Lois Peterson

  She didn’t show up. By the time I went to bed, I was as annoyed as if I had been stood up. It was ridiculous. If I did make new friends here—not that I planned to—it would not be with a girl who wore homemade hats.

  The next morning when I saw Cleo in the hallway, I expected her to stop. But she sailed by, waving at someone outside the cafeteria. Today her hat was pink with orange flowers around the brim.

  I hugged my books to my chest, my phone in one hand and a can of apple juice in the other. I got a whiff of the juice. Caden was right. I ditched the can on the windowsill next to a wad of gum and a bus transfer.

  Cleo flapped one hand in a feeble wave as I passed. But she kept talking to Drew Galling. Honors math student meets chess freak, I thought. A match made in heaven. Maybe she’d get off my back now.

  Chapter Four

  In class, I logged onto Facebook. When I couldn’t think of an update to post, I scrolled through my text messages.

  Hav u got my fav blu sweater? Selena asked.

  Blu sweater? It was hanging in my closet at this very minute.

  The 1 that goes with the gry skirt u pinched fr J.

  “Who do you talk to all the time?” Cleo was unpacking her bag as carefully as always. “A boyfriend?”

  “Shut up!” I said. “Just friends. From my old school.”

  Gry skirt? I texted. This could go on all day.

  “You know it can be an addiction?” asked Cleo. “Social media. Email, texting, online searching, games,” she recited. “Twitter. Facebook. All that stuff.”

  “Everyone does it,” I told her as I typed in Wear the green 1 u pinched fr me. “Anyway,” I said to Cleo, “how would you know? I’ve never seen you with a phone.”

  “Remember books?” she asked. “Newspapers and magazines? Internet addiction is all over them these days. Articles, studies and such.” She fingered one of the flowers on her hat. “I know all about addictions.”

  There didn’t seem to be a proper response to this. But I couldn’t help asking anyway. “You do?”

  “Not me. But my dad, he’s an alcoholic,” said Cleo. “Nine years dry, but still an alcoholic. He knows everything there is to know about addictions.” She counted off her fingers. “Heroin. Gambling. Alcohol. Chocolate. Internet use.” She looked at her hand. “There are tons more too. Shopping. Hand washing…”

  “I am not addicted.” The words were hardly out of my mouth when my phone beeped.

  I made a face. Cleo laughed.

  Okay, I laughed too. “Technology is important,” I told her over the ringtone. “My dad says it levels the playing field. We all have access to the same information, thanks to technology. He works in the Sun’s printing plant. He knows all about technology. Now look what you’ve done. I’ve missed my call,” I said.

  “That’s elitist,” said Cleo.

  “What’s elitist? What do you mean?”

  “It assumes that everyone has access,” she said. “Poor people. The elderly. Homeless…”

  There was no time to get into it with her. The English teacher strode through the door reciting, from a book. But she never looked at the page once. On and on she went, her eyes scanning the students as the words poured from her mouth.

  How many poems could one person memorize?

  The class soon settled and fell silent.

  “Good. Thanks, everyone.” Ms. Watson closed the book and put it on her desk. I held my phone on my lap to google a few words I recalled from the poem. Later, I would teach Cleo the importance of access to information by telling her who wrote the poem and when.

  “That poem Ms. Watson was reciting? I checked online,” I told Cleo after school. I held out my phone to show her the Wiki article. “It’s by the same guy who wrote The Just So Stories. Did you read them when you were a kid?”

  She didn’t bother to check the screen. “Sure, I know Rudyard Kipling. The poem’s called ‘If.’ Any fool knows that.” She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and put down her bag. When she shook back her hair, the purple tassel on top of her hat shivered. “If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,” she recited. “If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you But make allowance for their doubting too…”

  It didn’t take long for Cleo’s performance and her weird getup to attract an audience. A guy in a hard hat and dusty work boots whistled. A woman wearing runners with her business suit looked up from her phone.

  “Okay. I get the message.”

  Cleo ignored me. “If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue / Or walk with kings, nor lose the common touch…”

  #? poems do u know? I texted Selena.

  WWTK? Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. The Hiwayman. Is this a test?

  I loved “The Highwayman.” But even between the two of us, we could never remember all the words. More ltr. GTG I texted her when I realized Cleo had finally wound down.

  She picked up her bag and tugged her hat. “I should have passed this around to make a buck or two,” she said as two women walked away smiling.

  “Doesn’t that ring in your lip hurt?” I asked.

  “This?” As Cleo tugged on it, her lip stretched out, showing the moist skin inside.

  I winced. “It hurts just to look at it.”

  “I forget it’s there.” Cleo slung her bag across her shoulder. A bunch of kids at the bus stop stared at us, muttering as we passed them.

  “Don’t your parents care?” I asked.

  She pulled on her lip again and peered down at it cross-eyed. “When I was twelve, they told me that if they put no limits on me, I would set them myself.” She grinned. “So I got pierced. And a tattoo, which I had to do myself. I’ll show you sometime. Last Christmas, in our last house, I spent the day painting my room black and playing the Grateful Dead. Better than lentil loaf with the rellies any day.”

  “You can do anything you want?”

  “It may sound like freedom,” said Cleo. “But Mom and Dad still run the show. No red meat or smoking tobacco in the house. No aerosols. No TV.”

  “You’re kidding!” The new flatscreen Dad bought when we moved took up a whole wall of the living room.

  “It’s no big deal,” she said.

  “You can download stuff, though, right?” I asked. “Movies? Documentaries, even? Music videos?”

  “We don’t have a computer.”

  “No computer?” What planet did this girl come from?

  “But they know me well at the library.” Cleo grinned. “The one here has fourteen computer stations. Back in Westbank, only three!”

  “What about a phone?”

  “Course I have a phone.” Cleo grinned and slapped her forehead. “Silly me. You mean a cell phone, right? No.”

  No red meat was one thing. But no cell, or smartphone or iPad? “How do you keep in touch with people? With what’s going on? How do your parents check up on you?”

  “I’m supposed to be where I say I’m going to be. And be home when I say I’ll be home. I had a bunch of buddies in Westbank. But the place was so small, we hardly ever needed to phone each other. It won’t take me long to get connected here.” Cleo grinned. “I already met you, didn’t I?”

  “Sounds so…I dunno,” I said. “I could never live like that, disconnected from everything.” I could have told her about the Cool Code of Conduct. But that was something between Selena and Josie and me.

  “I guess it goes back to when my grandparents lived in a cabin on a creek with no running water, maybe,” said Cleo.

  How very Little House on the Prairie!

  But Cleo’s family story was fascinating, the way she told it. Her grandmother had been a potter. Her grandfather, a Vietnam War draft dodger. They had lived on a mountain, “off the grid.” According to Cleo, this meant no running water or electricity, let alone phones or TV. Talk about disconnected! They grew all their own stuff. Self-sufficiency, Cleo called it. They passed their values on to Cleo’s mother.

  Th
e way she told it, her family lived the kind of life I thought had died out about the time of Laura Ingalls Wilder.

  My phone alarm buzzed. I grabbed Cleo’s arm. “What’s the time?”

  “What’s the panic?”

  “The kids I babysit.” I took off running. “I have to be there when they get home.”

  Chapter Five

  Cleo was right beside me as I raced toward the intersection, past the library, through the park and across the street against the light.

  When a driver pounded his horn and yelled “Stupid kids!” out the window, I just ran faster.

  My breath was raw in my throat by the time we got to the house. A gray minivan idled at the sidewalk.

  Caden pushed his way through the kids who were jammed in among coats and lunch boxes. “Where were you? We’ve been here for ages.”

  Emmy emerged holding a piece of poster board. “You’re late.” She pushed it into my hands. “I have to do a science project.”

  Today’s driver was a thin woman with a gray-white sheet of hair. “I have an appointment, you know.” She looked at her watch. “They will charge me if I don’t make it in time.”

  “Sorry to hold you up,” I said.

  The woman was too busy nagging everyone to buckle up to answer. She slammed the doors, hurried around to the driver’s side and drove off.

  “Jacob’s mom said lots of rude words when you weren’t here,” Emmy said as I groped for the key.

  “Lots and lots,” agreed Caden.

  Cleo followed as I shepherded the kids inside. “Do you know anything about science projects?” I asked her.

  She hung up her jacket and placed her shoes against the wall. But she didn’t take off her hat. “Sure. I won my school science fair.”

  How come I’m not surprised, I thought.

  “Three times,” she added as she followed us into the kitchen.

  The kids didn’t find anything odd about a total stranger opening cupboard doors and peering into the fridge.

  After a snack, Caden whined that he wanted to do a science project of his own. Cleo distracted him by asking about his LEGO, and he happily trotted out of the room.

  That was close, I texted Josie. Late for work.

  U tk a babysitting course? she asked.

  1st aid.

  Not the same thing.

  Im the 1 wth the job. Though it might be hard to tell right now, with Cleo taking charge.

  She had stuck a sheet of paper on the fridge with four flower magnets. “All you need to do is answer the five Ws and one H,” she told Emmy as she scrawled a big W across the paper.

  Gotta go. Big science project, I texted Josie. If I wasn’t careful, Cleo might ask me to split my pay with her.

  U tkg science this semestr?

  Explain later, I told her. Call me.

  Emerson munched her cookie as Cleo continued. “What? Who? Where? When? Why? And How? First decide your topic,” she told Emmy. “Then figure out your questions. Answer them, and you’ll be done.” I could hear footsteps and rattling toys overhead. Caden would be busy for a while.

  I was ready to explain Cleo’s research methods to Josie, but it wasn’t her on the phone when it rang. “Where are you?” said Mom. No Hello. How was your day?

  “Babysitting. It’s Tuesday.”

  “Cynthia was worried. She called the house.”

  “When?”

  “Just after two forty-five. No one answered.”

  “I was only a couple of minutes late.”

  “Only a couple of minutes?” My mother’s voice was chilly.

  “The car pool had just got here when we arrived.” Trust her to make a big deal out of it.

  “We? Is it okay to have people over when you’re babysitting?”

  “Cynthia never said.”

  “Who is there with you?”

  “Cleo.”

  Cleo looked up when she heard her name.

  “And who is Cleo?” Mom asked.

  “You met her, remember? She knits.”

  Cleo tapped her hat and grinned.

  “Why didn’t Cynthia call again herself?” I asked Mom.

  “She had to go into a meeting. I was to get her out of there if there was still no answer.”

  I could hear Caden yelling upstairs. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later.”

  “I’ll tell Cynthia that everything’s okay,” said Mom. I could hear the smile in her voice when she added, “It’s nice to know you’ve made a friend.”

  I hung up without saying goodbye. One minute, she’s on my case because I’m two minutes late. Now, everything is forgiven because I have a friend!

  “You going to help, or what?” asked Cleo. “Caden’s calling you.”

  “He’ll be fine for a minute,” I said as I checked my messages.

  Im in the festivl!!! Jazz & tap!!! Selena had texted.

  Deets ltr? I answered. Im @ wrk!!!

  “Cleo is going to show me how to make a tin-can phone,” said Emmy. “Have we got any cans?”

  I pushed the blue box toward them with my foot. “Isn’t Emmy too young to get addicted to phones?” I said to Cleo.

  “Idiot!” Cleo said as she dug in the box for some cans.

  When my phone rang, she leaned across and grabbed it. She peered at the screen. “One of your buddies, looks like. Leave it, can’t you? We’ve got a science project to do.”

  Chapter Six

  By the time I called her back after I got home, Josie had left one message and Selena two.

  “That’s great about the festival,” I told Selena as she picked up.

  She cut me off. “Yeah. It is. But that not why I called.”

  “Bet you’re pleased though. I know you were ticked about the bronze—”

  She interrupted, talking fast. “Look, Daria. It’s about our trip. There’s been a change of plans. It turns out Dad’s car needs…well, something real expensive. And see, there’s only room for three in the back of Mom’s Kia.”

  “We’ve done it before. Lots of times.”

  “Yeah. But not as far as Quebec. With all our stuff.”

  “So?”

  I could hear her swallow.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s not like it’s the only chance we’ll have. Next year, I’ll make sure…”

  “Selena, what are you telling me?”

  Her words came out in a rush. “There won’t be room for you. Not this time. Not with me and Justine and Josie.”

  “Justine?” I pulled my pillow into my lap. I hugged it. “Justine Marcus is going with you?”

  “You know her mom knows my mom? They were talking and before I knew it…”

  “Justine?”

  “Stop saying it like that. Like I said, there’s only room for three of us. Mom and Dad in the front…”

  “I know how many seats there are in your mom’s damn car. I’ve been in it often enough.” The three of us in the back. Sharing magazines. Doing our nails. Playing Scrabble. “We’ve been planning this for ages,” I said. “You, me and Josie. Like always. Now you want to take Justine instead?”

  “Not really. But when her mom…”

  “Right. Of course. It’s not your fault. It’s her mom’s. Your mom’s. You know what?” I held the phone away at arm’s length. I took a deep breath, then put it back to my ear. “Sure. Go ahead,” I said. “Fine. You and Josie have a good time with Justine. I have better things to do with my hard-earned money than spend it all on a holiday with you…you jerks.” I hung up before she could say another word.

  I swiped at the tears and leaned back against the wall. I stared at the screen, willing Selena to call back, to text me. While I waited, I ran through all the mean and awful things I would say to her.

  The phone did not ring. The screen stayed blank.

  I shoved my pillow back under my head and jammed the phone underneath.

  When Mom called me for supper, I yelled that I didn’t want any. When she knocked on my door
later, I pressed my face into the pillow so she wouldn’t hear me crying.

  I pulled out my phone and punched in a whole bunch of texts to Josie.

  That cow Selena!

  Remember the CCC? #3? Stick together?

  U kno that gry skirt? I do hav it. It’s perfect wth the blu shirt!

  I hate this. Call me.

  BFF my ass.

  Dont u dare try 2 make xcuses.

  I deleted them all.

  I turned my phone off and threw it across the room. When it fell behind my chair, I didn’t bother to check it was okay.

  I crawled into bed, pulled the covers up to my head.

  Mom and Dad knocked during the evening. When I didn’t answer, they whispered to each other and then went away.

  Next morning, my phone worked. But there was nothing from Selena. Or Josie.

  All the way to school, I worked on what I would say to them. If we ever spoke again.

  By lunch, they had still not called or texted me. “Want to see a movie on the weekend?” I asked Cleo at lunch.

  “Sure you’ve got time for me between keeping in touch with old friends and babysitting?” She peered inside her wrap, then rolled it back up.

  “You said you liked movies.”

  “I thought you were saving all your pay for your trip to Calgary?”

  “I’m not going.”

  “How come?” Cleo asked.

  “Josie and Selena are taking this dumb girl they hardly know. Justine,” I sneered. “Justine Marcus. It’s not like she’s a friend or anything. She just stands next to them in the choir.” I would have told Cleo that used to be my spot, but I didn’t want to start crying again.

  “So did you have a big bust-up when they told you?”

  “Kind of. I guess so.” I never wanted to speak to Selena again. Josie neither. She could have voted Justine out of the trip and insisted I came along. She should have. But she didn’t.

  Cleo eyed my fries. “I had this friend in Westbank, Lauren, since kindergarten. In grade seven she came with us on a road trip into the Rockies. In exchange, I was supposed to go to Disneyland with her family. Somewhere my parents would never go.”