Capsule

by Mel Torrefranca

  We have the sun for a reason.

  After she’d deleted Discord, all that remained from her video game life was the capsule. She’d come home with it in the pocket of her shoplifted sweatpants that night. It was the last piece of evidence that everything she’d gone through was real, and as much as the sight of the capsule brought her pain, she couldn’t will herself to throw it away. She’d placed the capsule alone on an empty bookshelf in her room.

  Jackie was about to get ready for another afternoon run, but she stopped by her bedroom mirror at the sight of something new. For the first time, she saw in the reflection a girl who tried. A girl who not only acted like she cared but cared and took action. She wasn’t like Whitney or the short-haired girl, and for a brief moment she saw a piece of Jay in herself. A piece that she’d always envied, but could never describe with words.

  A few knocks on her door. Jackie turned away from the mirror. “Yeah?”

  The door swung open, but the face that greeted her wasn’t Jay’s.

  “Hey.” A pause. “If it isn’t JackieLantern.”

  Jackie took a single step forward. “How did you—”

  “I don’t live in Florida.” Eugene smiled lightly. “But you’ve probably figured that out already.”

  And it was him.

  The boy.

  Staring at his curly brown hair and the dull glow in his eyes, she couldn’t deny it. His voice was slightly deeper than it sounded on their online calls—richer, with more dimension—and he was taller than Jackie had imagined him to be, but it was him.

  Eugene.

  Jackie froze. He was her best friend. The boy who she’d spent four years gaming with on a daily basis, keeping in touch with during free time in class through occasional Discord messages. He was the boy who had always pushed her to make new friends, even though she’d never listen.

  But he was also the same boy who she’d met the night of the Grovestown dance. The boy who had shown up to make friends and failed. The boy who had retreated to the grimy lockers at the back of the gym, staring at Clay River and admitting that he was done with people. Done trying. He was him.

  Eugene.

  To the rest of the world he was just a high school boy. But to Jackie, he was an anomaly.

  A contradiction.

  A best friend and a stranger.

  “I lied, by the way. My best friend isn’t Nolan Russo.” Eugene stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans with a weak grin. “There is no Nolan Russo.”

  He was wearing a white shirt with the words I paused my game to be here written in red text. His curly hair tickled his tan face as though each strand had a life of its own. When he smiled, his teeth were blindingly white. It took Jackie a moment to realize that he wasn’t fake.

  Over the past month she’d learned to forget that Eugene was a real person, that a heart was beating behind the screen. She’d tossed him aside along with her games, but she’d made a mistake. She’d cut ties with the one person who had always pushed her to be happy, even at his own expense.

  That night at the Grovestown dance, Eugene had overheard Jay call Jackie’s name. That’s when he’d made the connection that the girl he’d met by the lockers that night was none other than JackieLantern, and he’d realized that Jackie had finally broken free from her shell. As sad as it must have been to lose his best friend that night, he still smiled as he waved goodbye. “Your friends are lucky to have you.”

  About two hours later, Eugene had called her to end their gaming sessions. To end their friendship. He was happy for her, and he didn’t want to risk dragging her back into her old ways.

  “I just didn’t want you to be like me.” Eugene’s focus drifted to his shoes. “You know—a loner. So I tried to push you to make more friends, and when it finally happened I thought I’d have to end things between us too. By the time I realized how stupid that was and reached out to you again, I was already too late.”

  Eugene had taken the extra step. He not only cared, but he cared enough to go through the effort, the fear, the risk of reconnecting, and Jackie could appreciate that now more than ever.

  “How’d you find me?”

  “I’m a computer nerd.” Eugene raised his chin with a shrug. “I have my ways. A little coding here, some hacking there…”

  Jackie crossed her arms, and he sighed, giving in to her suspicions.

  “Your Instagram handle matches your Discord ID. I found your brother in your following list and DMed him.”

  Fair game.

  “And I’m really sorry that I wasn’t being honest. I made stuff up because I was always scared you’d find out who I really was. It was stupid. Who the hell does that?” He let out a short chuckle. “I completely understand why you’d ignore me after that call. I tried to cut things off out of nowhere, and—”

  “It’s not your fault.” Jackie raised her voice, shocking the life back into Eugene’s eyes. “It’s a long story, but I—I haven’t been ignoring you because of what you said. It’s because I lost a game. A really important one, and it’s been taking me some time to fully get over it.”

  “Wait. You’ve been ghosting me because you lost a game?” Eugene frowned at Jackie’s desk before approaching it. “All of this, for a game? And what’s with this lame-ass Chromebook? This piece of trash probably can’t handle anything more than a few games of online Tetris. What happened to your PC?”

  “Sold it.” Jackie laughed. Now that Eugene had pointed it out, her extreme measures to distance herself from video games sounded ridiculous even to herself.

  Eugene shook his head as he turned around. “Why didn’t you just play the game again?”

  “Dude, I wish it were that simple.” Jackie joined him by her desk and watched the water tremble in the glass sitting next to her Chromebook.

  “Look, do you remember when I was trying to beat Donkey Kong Country on my old Super Nintendo? It took me weeks on the first try, and I lost the game two levels before reaching the final boss.” He raised his voice to the same volume that usually ended up getting distorted through Jackie’s headset, but now it sounded like nothing more than obnoxious. “Ran out of balloons. But you know what I did? I started up again, right back at the beginning.”

  Jackie peered at the capsule resting on her bookshelf. “It’s not exactly the type of game you play again.”

  “Jackie,” he said in that annoying mothering tone of his. It’d been a while since she had last heard that one. “It wouldn’t be a game if you only had one shot. Of course you can play again.”

  Jackie pictured the GAME OVER screen she’d seen that night by the campfire. There hadn’t been any other extra buttons. No prompt to replay the game. Now that her old phone was gone she had nothing left but—

  The reward capsule.

  Jackie sprinted to the bookshelf in the corner of her room. She grabbed the capsule, which was covered in dust, but blowing on it seemed to do the trick. It was sanitary. Well, sanitary enough.

  “You better change your username to EuGenius.”

  Eugene frowned as Jackie made her way back to the desk. “What?”

  “Thanks, Genie. Really.” Jackie raised her chin to face him with a smile. “You just saved my life.”

  If it weren’t for Eugene, Jackie would have never noticed yet another pattern to the game. Capsule had always pulled one trick after another. First, Capsule had placed the reward capsule over a cliff. Second, Capsule had only offered to save one of its subjects. Both had been tests to determine how much the three of them cared for each other.

  And the GAME OVER screen was the final test of all—the test that proved whether Jackie not only had enough determination to care about Peter and Kat, but to take that extra step and reach out, even if it seemed hopeless—just like Eugene had. Just like Jay always had.

  Was Jackie the type to give up so easily? Was she the typ
e to let everything fade away even though she’d been gifted a morsel of hope, a slight chance of success? Oh, the pieces were coming together brilliantly. Beautifully.

  You silly game. Jackie squinted at the capsule resting between her fingertips. All this time, you were nothing but a test.

  “Saved your life from what?” Eugene leaned toward her, trying to decipher what she was doing with her hands. He couldn’t see the capsule.

  The game’s magic was still at play.

  “Bro, just hear me out, alright?” Jackie could hardly contain her excitement, stumbling over her own words, mind racing faster than her muscles could match. “What if it’s not even a matter of playing the game again? What if it’s more like the—that credit roll fakeout in Donkey Kong Country? Like the part when—when you think the game’s over but it’s actually just a trick?”

  Jackie didn’t need Eugene’s confirmation to know that she’d finally cracked the code. Capsule had never made a mistake. The game had cleaned up every mess it’d created, leaving behind no trace of its existence apart from the reward capsule. A brutal game like Capsule would never offer Jackie a sentimental souvenir. No, the game was still on. The credits had been rolling, but she hadn’t won or lost yet.

  “Thanks for finding me, by the way. It really means a lot.” Jackie popped the capsule into her mouth, and it bounced on her tongue as she spoke, slurring her words. “I mabe sure we meet again.”

  Eugene furrowed his brows as Jackie wrapped her hands around the glass of water. “Are you okay?”

  Jackie raised the glass to her lips. “Neber been better.”

  08:57 AM

  “DOZING OFF, ARE you?”

  Jackie raised her head from the wooden desk to find herself in Mr. Berkshire’s classroom. The time was 8:57, twenty-seven minutes after class had first begun. Mr. Berkshire stared at Jackie with sharp eyes and crossed arms, but she didn’t remember falling asleep. Luckily, his frustration was temporary. His eyes wandered to the desk at Jackie’s right.

  “That’s strange. He’s always on time.” Mr. Berkshire uncrossed his arms and referred to the seating chart resting by his laptop. “Peter Moon. Does anyone know if he’s sick?”

  The boy next to Jackie broke into a laughing fit, the lemony lights of the classroom shimmering on his golden glasses. “He’s been sick since 2004.”

  That line.

  She’d heard it before.

  When the door to Mr. Berkshire’s room swung open, the memories came pouring back to Jackie. The boy who entered the room—the one in the red t-shirt—his name was Peter Moon. He’d disappeared from Jackie’s life. Twice. He was a greatly disliked student from Brookwood—to put it softly—as well as one of two unlucky subjects in a cruel game. Capsule—that’s what it was called.

  And he was a friend.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Peter slammed the door behind him, drowning the laughter to its end. He hurried to the desk next to Jackie’s, and for a moment their eyes met before he sat to unpack his belongings.

  The fog cleared from Jackie’s memory. The date on the whiteboard read April 2nd—the day Capsule had erased Peter and Kat by the campfire at Lothen Heights.

  Jackie reached into her leather rucksack for her phone, which was still wrapped in a lavender case. She’d purchased a new phone after destroying her old one but hadn’t bothered to buy a case for it yet, which meant this was her old phone, and in mint condition.

  Jackie unlocked the phone under her desk and swiped to her screen filled with mobile games. Capsule wasn’t there. The spot next to Clash of Clans was empty.

  For the remainder of class Jackie marinated the story in her mind.

  Surely I haven’t imagined it. Jackie shook her head as the bell rang. No, it had to be real.

  Jackie stuffed everything into her rucksack and ran after Peter to the door. She followed him through the hall, her footsteps bold. The sneakers on her feet were clean, not yet muddied from the chaos of the game.

  “Hey.” Jackie raised her voice without hesitation. She’d do anything to reach him. “Peter!”

  As Peter turned around, Jackie stopped, and a sudden jolt shoved her a step to the side.

  “Shit!” A girl winced and gripped her own shoulder. “You don’t just stop in the middle of the hall like that.”

  Jackie regained her balance, and her eyes widened at the sight of the girl’s perfect blond locks dangling from a ponytail, her glittering green eyes, and the artistic arrangement of freckles on her cheeks. It really was her.

  Kathabelle Pike.

  “Oh yikes, bad luck.” Peter approached them with crossed arms. “Looks like you bumped into the famous, entitled feline.”

  There it was—that same line.

  Well played, Capsule. Jackie grinned as her eyes hopped between their faces. Well played.

  Peter raised his brows. “Do you need something?”

  “Jackie, you have our memories.” Her eyes watered as she recalled what Peter had told her at the campfire that night. “You know us better than anyone else, and as long as you remember us, our friendship will live on through you.”

  Kat released her arm with red cheeks. “And why are you smiling like that?”

  Jackie stared into their eyes, her grin widening. She’d found a way to beat the game. Now she could meet Peter and Kat again, but this time, the right way. Without the app.

  “Hi.” Jackie raised her arm with a short wave. “I’m Jackie.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I STARTED WRITING Capsule sixteen months ago at the age of seventeen, clueless as to how many people would later be involved with the project. I can proudly say that the story is no longer mine alone, but the work of everyone in this acknowledgment section for contributing a piece to the jigsaw puzzle that now sits in your hands.

  Let’s start with my family. Mom and John for listening to me rant about writer problems they didn’t need to hear, and Dad for giving me a logical approach to the business side of publishing. Shoutout to my siblings—Monica, Marie, Lucas, Levi, and Eli, my aunt and uncle—Robin and Thomas Bottorff, and my grandparents—Eleuterio Torrefranca, Norma Torrefranca, and James Hensley.

  I am honored to have worked with a group of incredibly creative people throughout the publishing process at Lost Island Press. Ivan Cakamura for his talented cover design—once again, Katie Flanagan for her critical writing feedback, Nora Sun for marketing guidance, Zoe Anastasia for proofreading, and Kim Sowon for her overwhelming support.

  I would like to acknowledge my beta readers who read an early version of this novel and provided constructive criticism—Siddharth Singh, Mayah Robinson, Reeha Dalin, Naomi Kenyon, E Bennett, The Chicken, Avery Elise, Nina J. Jeran, Paulien Goossens, Imãn Ayesha, Ben Clarke, Angeline Sieman, Sowon Kim, Zara Štumberger, Olivia Nahrgang, H.R. Lock, Akkriti Tiwari, Luis Rodrigues, Franck Picardat, Aaron Saechao, Gabriel Darrett, Germaine Han, Era Reid, Erin Willis, Skye O’Riley, Moina Fatima, Gaia Camaya, Rosalinda Perri, Nishi Nandineni, Ruby Shaw, Carissa Matson, Katie Flanagan, Miriam Fernandez, Carol Keirn, Richie O’Brien, Edvardi Jackson, Ti’Laha Hayes, Aurora Dayspring, Brandon Nguyen, Kate Larsen, Treasure Elohor Onothome, Molly Jesus, Sabrey Moiraine, Alice Smidebush, Akeem Cammock, Beka Lynne, Chinmayi Veluri, Haley Richards, Joe Lines, beta readers who chose to remain anonymous, and advanced readers who supported Capsule before the release. I am forever grateful for your time.

  Eugene is a special character to me as he represents the amazing connections I’ve made through the internet. One of many is Ralph Torrefranca—a writer, filmmaker, and musician who DMed me on Instagram with the message, Hey Mel! I wonder if we’re related. I appreciate Ralph and the other Cuffed Up band members—Sapphire Jewell, Joe Liptock, and Vic Ordonez—for allowing me to incorporate lyrics from their songs Small Town Kid and Danger, Danger into Jackie’s life. I would also like to mention the online friends whom I’ve had the
pleasure of meeting in person. Sebastian Delgado, a writer and filmmaker whom I collaborated with on a short screenplay adaptation of my debut novel Leaving Wishville in late 2020. Abigail Ann, a fellow writer and entrepreneur whose work ethic I truly admire.

  Friendship is a core theme in Capsule, so I find it fitting to end by thanking the amazing friends who have helped me bring this story to life. Brandon Nguyen—whom this novel is dedicated to—for supporting me in both my creative and personal lives, especially during high school. Joy Kabigting for her willingness to tackle any challenge with me, whether it be filming a fun YouTube video, brainstorming ways to fix a plot hole, or planning our crazy move to Thailand. And lastly, Angie Eggers and Eliza Negrete—my childhood friends whom I met before I could even read—for walking this journey with me from the beginning.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  MEL TORREFRANCA is an entrepreneur and novelist from the San Francisco Bay Area. When she’s not writing dark and mysterious young adult fiction, she runs the publishing house Lost Island Press and films YouTube videos documenting her personal experiences. Mel discovered her passion for writing at the age of seven and published her debut novel Leaving Wishville before graduating from high school. She also drinks way too many lattes.

  meltorrefranca.com

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