In My Head

by Alicia Rades

  “You have access to my data, right?” I ask J.P. boldly. Normally I wouldn’t discuss private things like this with him, but the only alternative is to ask my dad, and I don’t want to worry him.

  He nods as he touches the back of his neck. His fingers lightly brush the end of his dark brown hair, and his shirt tightens across his surprisingly muscular chest. For a long time, I thought he did this just to make sure his implant was still there or something, but I’ve learned it’s just a habit of his.

  "Can you check mine today? Can you make sure everything is alright?”

  “Why?” he asks, a hint of alarm to his voice. “Is something wrong with your implant?”

  I think about the way it made me feel when I woke up after surgery. I can’t place my finger on it, but something just didn’t feel right. “No,” I lie. “I just want to make sure everything is okay after that weird heart rate spike yesterday.”

  J.P. doesn’t have a chance to respond as cheers erupt from the other end of the cafeteria. We both look to see Carter Hayes high-fiving his group of friends. Carter is arguably the hottest, most popular guy in my grade, so when I say that he high-fived his friends, I basically mean his entire corner of the lunch room. People gather around him, but I can’t see what’s going on. Even some of the popular guys from the older grades crowd around his table.

  I can’t help but lock my eyes onto Carter. If I weren’t such a reject in this school, I might have a chance with him. Just looking at him makes my insides go soft and my heart flutter. Ariel Wright clings to his arm and smiles up at him like he’s a god. I grit my teeth in annoyance.

  Arial and I were friends once. Then I got my first implant, and she turned everyone against me. That was back in first grade, but still, I can’t help but hate her, seeing how my social status clearly never recovered.

  I don’t know what all the cheering is about until Carter turns and I notice the light blue glow on the back of his neck. It’s lighter than everyone else’s, except mine. How did he get an upgrade?

  “Randomly chosen,” J.P. says, answering my unspoken question. “He was one of our randomly selected beta testers.”

  “I don’t get it,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “I have the upgrade, too. Why are they cheering for him and not for me?”

  J.P. just shakes his head like it’s something he doesn’t want to explain to me.

  Just then, my watch buzzes, and the entire lunch room goes silent. Everyone is glued to their devices, and I know instantly this is a mass message.

  Dad told me about a new feature with my upgrade, so I try it out. I mentally tell my watch to read me the message, and a computer-generated voice enters my head.

  “Who doesn’t love fun in the sun?” it says excitedly. “No one, that’s who!”

  “It’s playing in my head!” Carter exclaims across the lunch room, and people start cheering for him again.

  The computer voice continues relaying the announcement. “Join us for a pool party this Saturday, 3:00 p.m. at 1113 Mulberry Lane. Anyone and everyone is welcome.” 1113 Mulberry Lane. I know that address. That’s Ariel Wright’s house. I bite down on my lip and try to make sense of this announcement. Ariel is inviting everyone to her house? I know she throws parties often, but what’s with her inviting everyone? Is this some new way to try to boost her popularity even more?

  “You look confused,” J.P. says.

  “I don’t understand why Ariel is inviting everyone to her party,” I explain.

  J.P. looks at me like it’s obvious. “Homecoming.”

  Oh. Ariel is trying to win brownie points so everyone will vote her the sophomore class’s homecoming representative. Well, I won’t, I tell you. I won’t attend her stupid “I’m queen of the world” party, either.

  But, then again, she did say everyone is invited. Lots of people will be there, and if I’m there with them, it might actually win me some brownie points in the social hierarchy here at school. Maybe showing I’m not all that bad or different could make people like me more despite getting upgrades before them. Besides, I’ve never looked terrible in a bikini.

  “Don’t even think about it,” J.P. says. His brown eyes stare into mine seriously.

  The thoughts in my mind must be showing on my face. “Think about what?” I ask innocently, even though I know exactly what he’s talking about.

  “It’s not going to make them like you any more,” J.P. tells me.

  “Well, it can’t make them like me any less,” I argue.

  “I’m telling you that you shouldn’t go.”

  Heat rises to my face, and suddenly, I want to go now more than ever. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

  “Ariel is practically your arch enemy,” J.P. points out.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “What would you know about that?”

  He holds his hands up defensively. “Hey, I’m just trying to be a good friend.”

  “Friend? I don’t have any friends. That’s why I should go to this pool party.” I stand from my seat angrily and head across the lunch room to recycle my dishes. Where does J.P. think he has any right to tell me what to do?

  When I turn after dumping my tray in the trash, my eyes lock briefly on Carter’s. He stares back with a half smile. My cheeks flame, and I turn away, letting my loose hair conceal my face. I escape from the lunch room as quick as I can.

  4

  J.P. and I don’t talk much at lunch the rest of the week, not that we normally do. He tells me my readings look normal, and then he tries talking me out of the party again. I can’t help but snap a snarky comment back at him. Why doesn’t he want me to go?

  After that, his silence only makes me angrier at the notion that he thinks he can boss me around. Like I said, we’ve never been great friends.

  At lunch that week, I’m reminded of the announcement that came on Monday, and I spend my time daydreaming about how the pool party will go. I don’t know what to wear, so on Wednesday, I do some shopping on my watch—which turns out to be really cool with the new implant—and order a new bikini. It comes in the mail on Thursday, and when I try it on, it looks great. It has a single strap across the right shoulder and is made of a silver metallic fabric. There’s even a cute white dress coverall that came with it.

  I tell Mom about the pool party, and she seems more than happy about it. At 16, I’m finally attending my first party! Her excitement only fuels my own.

  Later, Mom and I test out the calling function on our new implants. She stands at one end of the house, and I stand at the other. It’s incredible how we can hear each other’s voices in our own minds, but we still have to speak out loud to make it work.

  On Friday night, Dad sends me a link to a new article about the olden days. It’s too intriguing to pass up, so I tell my implant to read aloud to me. I listen to the article about the history of the telephone while I float carelessly on an inner tube in our pool.

  The article finishes, and I’m about to tell my implant to read me another one when a different voice cuts through the silence. I check my watch to see what's playing, but nothing appears on the screen. Then I listen closely to what the voice is saying.

  “Don’t go to the pool party.”

  I’m caught so off-guard that I wobble a little on the inner tube.

  “Mila,” the voice says.

  Now I’m so terrified that I topple over into the pool. I’m not in the deepest part, but I still gasp for air as I come back up.

  “What!?” I practically scream. I look around my yard nervously, but there’s no one around.

  I focus on the voice’s words, which surprisingly sound a lot like J.P.’s, only it clearly wasn’t J.P.’s voice in my head.

  “Who’s there?” I say out loud, only no one answers. The weird thing is that if someone was in my head, the only explanation I had was that they were communicating by calling me, but I would have to answer the call first. Plus, when Mom and I tested it, there was this background s
tatic that would tell you that you were on a call. I didn’t feel that this time.

  I dry myself off and head toward my room. Maybe I just imagined it. Perhaps it was my way of agreeing with J.P. But that can’t be it since I still want to go to the pool party.

  I consider telling Dad about it, but if it really was my imagination, then that would screw up his data. I decide to keep this one to myself just for now.

  ***

  On Saturday, three o’clock can’t come soon enough. I spend the day trying out different hairstyles, which unfortunately gives me too much time to think about my decision. Part of me wants to agree with J.P. and skip the party altogether, but then I think about how this could be my chance to make real friends.

  I decide I won’t chicken out, but I still don’t know how to do my hair. Should I put it up or leave it down? I don’t want to make it seem like I’m showing off my upgrade, but then again, everyone cheered when Carter showed off his. Maybe everyone at the party will think my upgrade is just as cool. I can’t be sure. I decide to put my hair up but in a way that’s easy to let down if I start getting odd stares. I tell my watch to display easy updos, and it shows an enlarged holographic screen in front of my face. I flip through different styles before I settle on one.

  “I’d keep your hair down,” a voice says in my mind.

  At first, I think it’s an ad playing off the website I’m on; I’ve gotten used to that the past few days. Then I realize that it’s the same voice I heard in the pool.

  “Who are you?” I demand out loud. The voice doesn’t sound familiar, so I’m sure it’s not someone I know. It’s clearly a male voice, though.

  “Just a friend.”

  “A friend? If you were a friend, you’d stay out of my head. Who are you?”

  “You can call me Parker.”

  “How did you get in my head? I should be able to tell if I’m on a call with you, and I’m not. What’s going on?”

  “I have my ways,” the voice says.

  In the brief silence that follows, I take a moment to think about what’s happening. I must be imagining the voice, right? It doesn’t sound computer generated, and I don’t hear the quiet static in the background that would tell me I’m on a call. Perhaps my intense feeling for needing friends has made me go crazy.

  “I don’t need a friend,” I tell Parker, but I know it’s a complete lie. “Stay out of my head.”

  Parker doesn’t say another word, so I figure he’s gone. I’m about to put my hair up when I decide to leave it down. I curl it to give it a little volume.

  5

  I don’t leave until 3:00 so that I’m not the first one there. I consider taking my car, but I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to show off even more than people think I already do, so I decide to take my bike. Mom gives me a hug goodbye and tells me to enjoy myself.

  When I ride up to 1113 Mulberry Lane, the driveway is already crowded with cars and bicycles. Someone says hello to me as I enter the house, but it’s so crowded that I can’t tell who greeted me. I plaster a smile on my face to make it look like I’m enjoying myself, but all my insides have turned to fire as I nervously wonder what I’m going to do next. A lot of people have drinks in their hands, so I make my way to the kitchen to grab a glass.

  Out the window, I can see another crowd of people around the pool. Some are swimming, and there are girls tanning on the patio. Ariel’s house is smaller than mine, but her pool must be twice the size. All I can hope is that she doesn’t spot me at her party. With so many people around, I doubt she will, though.

  I take a sip of my fruit punch while I continue scanning the backyard through the window. I spot a game of volleyball going on out in the lawn. I’ve never been one for sports, but there are a group of girls I recognize from school watching the game. Perhaps it’s best to try talking to them. They look like the type of girls I could get along with.

  I push through the crowd and out toward the volleyball court. The five girls I spotted from the kitchen haven’t moved. When I approach them, one of the girls turns. She has short bright red hair, but with her fair skin, it suits her.

  “Um, do you mind if I sit here?” I ask, gesturing to a spot on the grass. I know I don’t really have to ask, but I don’t want to intrude on their group, either.

  The girl with the red hair smiles as the other four girls shift their gaze toward me. “That’s fine with us. You’re Mila, right?”

  I nod as I sink to the ground.

  “I’m Kaya,” she says with a big smile. “This is Em, Anya, Callie, and Patrice.”

  “Hi,” I greet everyone. They seem nice enough as they all smile back. I inch a little closer to their group, and they don’t seem to mind.

  “We were just guy watching,” Kaya explains. “Who do you think is the hottest one?” Kaya gestures toward the court.

  “Um . . .” I say as I eye the boys on either side of the net. They’re all pretty muscular, and they all have their shirts off.

  One guy with blonde hair dives into the grass to bump up the ball, and my eyes lock on him. Carter. Heat rises to my cheeks. It’s not like he would go for me or anything, but my goodness, he is gorgeous.

  “Oh, I see,” Kaya says teasingly. “Say no more.” Then she turns toward her other friends. “Mila votes for Carter, so that puts him in the lead.”

  “What?” I practically squeak. “I never even answered.”

  Kaya shrugs. “You didn’t have to.” They all laugh, and for a moment, it feels like they’re laughing at me.

  I sit with them a while longer, but all they do is talk about guys I don’t know, and I feel a little left out.

  When the guys on the court decide to take a break, I also stand up and leave. The girls next to me hardly even notice.

  I spot Ariel by the pool as I head back inside. She hasn’t seemed to notice yet that I’m here, and I’m grateful for that. We haven’t hardly spoken in years, but I don’t know what she’d think if she knew a loser was attending her pool party. I’m comforted by the thought that she’s working on schmoozing all her pool mates to win the spot on homecoming court. She probably doesn’t have the time to worry about me.

  Because I don’t know what else to do, I decide to refill my punch glass. I just have it filled when I turn around and smack into something hard. The punch splashes in the cup, which sends red juice all over the front of my white dress. I look down at it in horror. The good news is that the Wright’s white floor didn’t take any of the damage, but that means I’m soaked.

  “I am so sorry,” the figure says.

  I look up to see who I bumped into, and I find myself staring into Carter Hayes’s blue eyes.

  6

  I want to curl up into a ball and die right about now. As if spilling punch all over myself isn’t bad enough, it has to be in front of the cutest guy in my grade.

  Carter grabs a pile of napkins from the counter and pats them on the punch stains.

  Oh. My. God. I think he just touched my boob.

  “I’m really sorry,” he says again.

  “No, I’m sorry,” I manage to say, but I can barely spit it out due to shock.

  “Uh, this isn’t going to work,” Carter says, tossing the napkins in the trash. “Do you know where the bathroom is?”

  I shake my head.

  “Here, I’ll show you.” And then he actually grabs my hand and holds it as he leads me to the bathroom! I am speechless.

  I stop for a moment in the hallway as I pass a photo. It’s a picture of six-year-old Ariel hugging her dog Toby. The blonde of the golden retriever’s coat matches Ariel’s hair perfectly. I remember him. When we were friends, we’d play with him together all the time. I look at the caption of the photo, which lists Toby’s birth and death dates. The death date is familiar. It’s significant to me, but for other reasons.

  “Hey.” Carter’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “This way.”

  I follow him as he tug
s on my hand again.

  Carter hurries around the bathroom looking for something that will clean up the punch stains on my dress. I stand there stupidly, unable to move. I still can’t believe I am alone in a bathroom—granted, the door is open—with Carter Hayes. My heart speeds up thanks to my overactive nerves.

  He wets a towel, and as he bends over the sink, I notice the pale blue light on the back of his neck. I lightly touch my own implant.

  He hands me the wet towel. “Try this.”

  I wipe it across my dress, trying to get the stain out, but it doesn’t work. I don’t want to speak, but I hear words escape my mouth anyway, mostly out of curiosity. “So, uh, your upgrade,” I say stupidly. I don’t meet his eyes, but a lump forms in my throat. I unwillingly give a cough to clear it. “How is it working for you?”

  His hand moves onto the back of his neck. “It works great. I love the way music plays in your head. It took me a little off guard at first.”

  I nod. I can’t believe he’s talking to me like I’m a real person. “Me, too. So, nothing weird happened with yours?”

  “No. Why? Did something weird happen with yours?”

  “No,” I say almost too quickly. My hands shake as I continue scrubbing away at my dress, my eyes locked on the big red stain. The stain isn’t coming out, though. “It’s just something my father would want to know about is all.”

  “Why do you hide it?” Carter asks.

  His question surprises me.

  “I mean your implant,” he clarifies. “Don’t get me wrong, your hair looks good down like that, but sometimes it seems like you’re self-conscious about it.”

  Oh. Wow. Heat rises to my cheeks. How did Carter Hayes of all people realize that? I didn’t know he paid enough attention to notice. I can’t believe that he would.

  But I can’t just tell him that I am insecure about. If it weren’t for making my dad happy—and having the compatible appliances in my house—I would upgrade when everyone else does. But upgrading before everyone else makes me an oddity.