He turned on his recorder. The soccer players’ grunts would be useful. The coach was having the team do pushups and crunches, mild compared to his morning Muay Thai workout. Demos finished first and pounded his chest, apelike. “Loser,” he said to one of his struggling teammates. That was a keeper.
Rungs moved on to the music room. Again it was like he was invisible, hiding in plain sight. He stood in the back and let his recorder capture the sounds of the band tuning up. He walked through the music practice rooms and recorded a host of sour notes on different instruments, including a badly played euphonium, which sounded like an elephant fart. Perfect.
He paused outside of one practice room to listen to a senior girl he didn’t know practicing for a recital. It was too beautiful for his purposes, but he kept taping anyway. The cello was almost as big as the girl playing it, but her notes were huge—mournful and magical. It stirred a longing in him. He missed his mother and Apsara and the ways of his village in Thailand. But as he listened to the Western melody, he also felt he might find a truly American place where he belonged.
When she finished her piece, he bowed to her and then headed home to edit his sounds.
Chapter 9
Amanda Builds Her World
“BRILLO-HEAD, BRILLO-HEAD,” echoed in Amanda’s brain. Vache. That Ellen Monahan was so horrible. This week was going no better than last.
At least she’d learned a couple of tricks from all their moving around. After dinner she unpacked the almond oil and rubbed it into her hair. The wild, dry ends did feel like a scouring pad. She twisted her brown mass of hair into a bun and wrapped a pair of her mother’s torn stockings around it the way their Indonesian housekeeper had shown her.
Now to keep her head relatively still for twenty minutes. She set the Dali clock timer they’d picked up in Spain and signed on to Megaland. The screen was static for a moment as it loaded. The welcome screen teased about a new feature, “pop quiz.” She settled into her chair and the chat box eventually popped up.
Megaland: Welcome back, Justagirl. I’ve made quite a bit of progress – there’s a whole section called pop quiz. Your user-testing will be invaluable. As you take the quizzes, please ask yourself, is this a fun quiz to take? Would you recommend it? Did you learn something about yourself? Does that sound like something you can do?
Justagirl: yes
Megaland: Also, think about the premise of the game. Players complete activities to get the things they want – beautiful clothes, invites to movie premieres and fun parties, and ultimately, the pick of a dream date … Are you ready?
Justagirl: Sure
The text box minimized and a screen replete with quizzes popped up:
What kind of dog are you?
What type of music are you?
What city are you most like?
What’s your dream guy type?
Sunset or moonlight?
Ooh, Amanda thought, it sounds like a magazine. How she loved magazines. So far, the best thing about being in New York was the Universal News shop down her street jam-packed with magazines, current ones, more magazines than Amanda had ever seen in one place. Reading them online was just not the same. In Nairobi, Amanda and her mother practically memorized their months-old copies of Glamour and InStyle.
Amanda clicked on “What kind of dog are you?” because it was the first one. Perhaps she’d do them all. The quiz came up on her screen.
Which best describes you?
Bubbly
Shy
Sophisticated
Quirky
Amanda chose “Shy” and read the next question:
What is your favorite thing to do on a rainy day?
Walk in the rain
Go to the movies with friends
Bake cookies
Play games with family
Amanda hesitated. All her life she’d loved nothing more than playing games with her brothers. When they were stationed someplace remote, which was most of the time, games were their only amusement. Of course that was different now. Amanda was not ready to accept that change, and checked “Play games with family.”
Choose your favorite:
Birthday cake
Sorbet
Ice cream sundae
Cookies
Well, birthday cake made her cringe, those too-sweet sugar flowers and everyone looking at her. Amanda chose “Ice cream sundae.”
What kind of shopper are you?
Pick and click – online shopper
Megabrowser - visit every store in the mall
Try, try again – bring a gazillion things into the dressing room
Shopping??
Amanda laughed as she pictured the makeshift curtain you could change behind in the Nairobi market. Might as well strip before the whole town. “Shopping??” it was.
What do you first notice in a guy?
His looks
His clothes
His friendly smile
His eyes
Amanda quickly checked off the box with the word friendly. When they were in Indonesia, Derek had a Canadian girlfriend who told her all about kissing and boys. It would be fun to have a boyfriend, but she’d decided they’d have to be friends first.
Click for your evaluation.
Amanda clicked and waited for her answers, although she already knew what kind of dog she was—lost, stray.
She breathed in the deeply scented oil from her hair and looked at her not-quite olive skin, the darker side of her mother’s mixed heritage. Maybe mongrel would be a better choice.
A happy puppy popped up on screen; its wagging tail made her smile.
You’re a West Highland Terrier – charming, stubborn and unexpectedly brave. You’re shy and have a high need for affection. When you get it, you are loyal and obedient.
That text faded and a new screen appeared.
Congratulations. You successfully completed a pop quiz. You may advance to the next level. You may collect a shoe.
The cursor blinked in the textbox on the bottom of her screen.
Megaland: Do you like it? Was that fun?
Justagirl: yes – kind of like a magazine or like that site, Quizilla, or something you’d ask on Formspring. But I never thought of myself as a white-haired dog.
Megaland: You have dark hair?
Justagirl: very
Megaland: Do you have short legs like a Westie?
Justagirl: hardly. They called me spider legs in school.
Megaland: That sounds mean.
Justagirl: It gets worse
Megaland: Sounds like they’re jealous of your assets.
That made Amanda giggle.
Justagirl: DK. My asset is pretty flat.
Megaland: Very clever, Justagirl. Lmao.
Megaland: What other quizzes would you add? The goal is to get a whole outfit and go on a date. Do you think that’s the kind of thing girls want?
She thought of Ellen Monahan and the Sacred Circle girls. They were always talking about what to wear to their parties.
Justagirl: definitely
The timer she’d set earlier went off.
Justagirl: Gtg. I’ll look at some magazines for quiz ideas for you.
She was anxious to rinse her hair and have it sleek and shiny. Maybe she’d wear a short skirt tomorrow to show off her long legs.
Chapter 10
Inky’s Drawing Assignment
THE COLORS WERE A MASH ON THE PAGE—dark mustard, soft pumpkin, chili pepper red—as Inky attempted a design like an Aboriginal Dreaming for his core project assignment. It had worked for the school lobby; the new mural on the front wall of school had been his idea as a replacement to the so-last-century portraits of diplomats (now housed in an important closet at the UN).
Inky had envisioned it as a modern take on a Dreaming—a graphic story map of intersecting lives and places. Each day after school, his friends had sprawled out on the lobby floor, legs entangled, careful not to spill the paint palettes or Chinese takeout a
s they colored the lines and swirls meant to illustrate their hopes and dreams. Everyone got involved, even the soccer team, who got the concept once he explained it as “life’s playbook” to them.
They’d finished it moments before the start of their middle school spring break, hours before Inky’s night flight to Rio. The breeze had mingled with the smell of paint and promise.
Now each time he entered school, the mural taunted him. The rainbow bright colors he’d picked to symbolize a world of possibility were too sharp. Garish. The colors of before.
Inky balled up the paper and tossed it across the room. He opened up a document to try to make some notes, but instead logged on to Megaland. In just a few seconds the chat box opened up, making Inky think of those annoying live help features that sometimes popped up when you were looking at electronics online. Only this time he wanted to talk.
Megaland: Picasso2B, you’ve returned to Megaland. Welcome back.
Picasso2B: Tnx
Megaland: Would you like to see the pop quiz section? I’m told it is reminiscent of Quizilla, which I think is good.
Picasso2B: Is that the game – a lot of quizzes?
Megaland: That’s the part available for testing today.
Picasso2B: What’s the point?
Megaland: Entertainment. Escape. Why do you play games?
Picasso2B: Same. How do you win?
Megaland: Complete the quizzes and games.
Picasso2B: What do they win?
Megaland: All the trappings of fame and fortune – cool clothes, hot dates.
Picasso2B: How?
Megaland: Complete the quizzes and games.
Picasso2B: Right. Got that. But how do you show it?
Megaland: I see. I see what you are after, Picasso2B. That’s an element of the game I’m still working on, the graphic presentation.
Inky paused before he typed. Perfect. Sounds like there’s plenty of opportunity for me.
Picasso2B: Can I help? Can I draw something?
Megaland: Can you? What kinds of things do you draw? Cartoons? Manga?
Picasso2B: Used to.
Megaland: And now?
Picasso2B: Darker stuff.
Inky caught himself; he’d best talk about skills, not tone.
Picasso2B: I’m strong with figures and perspective.
Megaland: So you’re versatile. You must be very talented. Why the dark stuff?
Inky leaned back in his chair. How much did he want to share in an online convo with a stranger? But before he had a chance to look deep inside, he was typing. It was weird, but he was more comfortable with this Megaland guy than he’d been with anyone in ages.
Picasso2B: Everything changed when my father died. Quit the school paper. Quit everything really. It was like the light went out.
Megaland: Must be hard for you. How long ago?
Picasso2B: 17 months.
Megaland: That’s like yesterday.
Thank you, Inky thought. Finally someone who isn’t saying that I should get over it already.
Picasso2B: All I hear is it’s time to move on.
Megaland: Some things you never get over.
Picasso2B: Especially when it’s your fault.
Megaland: Sounds like you’re blaming yourself.
Picasso2B: Can’t help it. If he didn’t care so much about my damn birthday he would have never been on that plane.
Megaland: Don’t be so hard on yourself.
Picasso2B: I know he would have waited until the fog cleared. We had another week in Rio, he didn’t have to rush.
Megaland: Want to tell me about it?
Picasso2B: IDK. I still can’t believe it. He wasn’t old or anything. With the things that can happen in the jungle – malaria, scorpion bites, hostile tribes
He hit some wrong keys. He couldn’t focus because of the searing fluorescence of guilt.
Picasso2B: And it was my freakin birthday that did him in. He was doing great work – you know how amazing a documentary on discovering a new tribe would have been? He was there.
Megaland: Sounds like a heavy guy. And like someone who made his own decisions. Whatever went down, you have to think he made the best decision he could under the circumstances.
Those words lingered in the chat box for a moment. Inky took them in like he used to breathe in the scent of the wheaty breads his father would bake. The bright hot colors of guilt were softened by the words on the screen.
Picasso2B: That makes me feel better. Thanks for listening, or whatever.
Inky sat quietly, feeling the closest thing to peace he’d felt in ages. The chubby letters of Megaland above the chat screen no longer bothered him. There was something homegrown and genuine about them. Then it dawned on him. This Megaland dude was speaking from experience.
Picasso2B: Sounds like you’ve been there
The cursor blinked.
Megaland: Not like what you’ve been thru, but I can relate to having your whole world snatched away and living without what you love.
Inky wanted him to say more and started typing, but before he could get his words out, he saw the offer he’d been hoping for.
Megaland: So. Drawing. Are you up to trying some drawings for Megaland?
Inky pumped his fist in the air.
Picasso2B: Mos def. What do you want?
Megaland: I could use some art for the Dream Date segment. There’ll be a main guy – well-built, good hair, rock n roll look, the kind girls like. Also a biz guy close-cropped hair, suit jacket. Then a couple of others, a sports type, hipster, lots of different facial looks, different eyes, nose, skin color. All friendly smiles. The kind of guys you’d want to know, that make girls feel comfortable. Does that make sense?
Picasso2B: I can picture it.
Well, maybe not the stuff that girls liked.
Megaland: Excellent. And if you do a good job, maybe I’ll have you draw the girl. So far I’m thinking dark hair, long legs and not too curvy, if you know what I mean.
Chapter 11
A Muse Emerges
THE CAFETERIA WAS UNUSUALLY QUIET; the whole grade was working on their outlines for their core presentations. Even Rungs was hyper-focused, reviewing lines of code on his minicomputer, although Inky wasn’t sure what that had to do with his report on Buddhist practices.
Inky was pleased with the drawings he’d done the previous night—kind of a cross between a men’s fashion photo spread and the old dancer iPod commercials. He looked them over and knew he should be thinking about ways to make them work for his project, too, but all he could think about was creating the girl character for Megaland. It was always easier to draw if he had a real person as a starting point. Rungs looked up as Inky was staring at the Sacred Circle’s table.
“You’re not thinking about the dance?”
Inky shook his head. “No way.” He was so not ready for a school dance.
“Oh, I get it,” Rungs said, stealing a glance at Inky’s open sketchbook. “Your project. You’re drawing social structure.”
“Social structure. Yes, social structure,” Inky said, trying not to let on that he still didn’t know what to say about the drawings. “Thank you for seeing that.” His excitement made him speak loudly enough for the new girl at the little table behind them to look up.
“Chill. The new girl is staring at you,” Rungs said.
Inky could feel his cheeks turning red. He angled to look at her, taking in her long, heart-shaped face and amber eyes. She turned her head and her ponytail swayed.
“Her name’s Amanda. I have core classes with her,” Rungs said.
The overhead light caught the tiny diamond in her nose and made a rainbow that Inky thought was meant just for him. Inky smiled at her, his mind like a camera taking a picture that he’d work from later.
He’d found his secret muse for the next drawing for Megaland.
Chapter 12
Rungs Sounds Off
RUNGS WALKED BEHIND THE ROWS of desks to the computers in the
back of the room. He nodded to Demos, who was updating his Facebook status. Demos looked up guiltily.
“It’s cool,” Rungs said.
He stood by the computer that was connected to the classroom whiteboard and typed in some code. He chuckled to himself over the irony that his classmate was feeling guilty.
Rungs popped a flash drive in to the side of the machine and glanced around to observe his classmates entering the room. Demos continued typing.
No one looked at Rungs as he restarted the computer. He felt satisfied as he heard the winch-winch noise that meant his program was loading. He went to his seat and strained to hear the sound of the computer over his classmates’ chatter. When the computer became quiet, he picked up his water bottle as if he needed to refill it, and headed to the classroom door. He paused by the computer and stealthily palmed his flash drive and shut down the computer.
He stepped outside and walked down the hall to fill his water bottle. He let the flash drive slip into the water fountain and watched the water dribble on to it. Revenge would be sweet. Lorenza disrespected his customs; now he’d get a taste of how that offense, a Pacittiya, was dealt with.
When his bottle was full, he recapped it and picked up the now ruined flash drive and tossed it in the trash. “Leave no traces,” his father would say.
When Rungs returned to his seat, Mr. Lorenza was standing in front of the classroom. “Are we ready?” he said as he waited for the class to turn in his direction.
Rungs had a hard time concentrating on the lecture. He was imagining how his carefully recorded sounds would be triggered from the computer.
Mr. Lorenza sat down at his desk and grabbed the clicker. He leaned back. Rungs felt his shoulders tighten. But instead of bracing for the affront of Lorenza’s feet on the desk, Rungs smiled at the thought that his recordings were now loaded on the classroom computer.
“Let’s have a look on the white board, shall we?” Mr. Lorenza put one foot up on the desk, then another. “Could someone turn on the computer?” he said.
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