by Carol Snow
Father opened the paper bag and pulled out a cupcake, a muffin, and a scone. “Hungry?”
“We’ll make it nice for you,” Mother said. “Bubble World, I mean.”
Freesia reached for the cupcake. “It’s already nice.”
“We’ll make it nicer.”
“It’s red velvet,” Father said.
Tinny music played from Mother’s handbag. She pulled out her rectangular thing and held it up to her ear. “Yes, Angel.… Not for another half hour or so.… Because your father needs to go to that store with the ugly shoes so he can buy inserts.… Give us fifteen minutes.… Okay, ten … five … Angel … Angel.”
Mother tapped the front of the rectangle and dropped it into her handbag. “We have to leave now. Angel will meet us at the car.”
“But—”
“She had a fight. With a friend. Or several friends. The usual.”
“But—”
“She’s crying. Hysterically. Making a scene.”
“I guess I can come back later to get my inserts.”
“I guess you can.”
Freesia bit into the cupcake and squeaked with surprise.
“Something wrong?” Father asked.
“Don’t chew with your mouth open, Francine.”
“This cupcake! The taste!”
“Don’t talk with your mouth open, Francine.”
She chewed, swallowed, spoke again. “Food in Agalinas tastes nothing like this.” She took another bite, bigger this time, the sensation of cake and frosting exploding in her mouth. Then she took a sip of her coffee, which had grown a little cold, which needed a little more sugar, but still!
Mother said, “The food in Agalinas—which is to say, the food we give you—isn’t food exactly, at least in the traditional sense. We feed you nutrition bars and supplement shakes, all carefully calibrated to meet your dietary needs. Visual triggers make you think you’re getting variety.”
Music jingled from Mother’s handbag again. She checked her rectangle and smiled. “Good news! Updates are complete. Francine can go back to Bubble World.”
Freesia shoved the rest of the cupcake in her mouth and took the cardboard cup along with her to the car.
* * *
Back in the bubblepod, Father held out a small plastic cup filled with something bright green. “Drink this.”
After a tense ride back from the mall, Angel had locked herself in her bedroom, while Mother had retreated to her office. Freesia could hear her on the phone. “The A-level upgrade. Yes, I’ve already cleared it with Todd.”
Freesia took the cup of green liquid. “Happy juice?”
“Memory blocker. Some of the things you learned today seemed to upset you. We don’t want that. If you’re going to live in Bubble World, we want you to believe in it. Also, there’s a provision in the contract. You’re not allowed to talk to the other students about the outside world. It would take away from the immersion experience.”
Freesia took a deep breath. “You said that most of my friends in Agalinas are real, more or less. So that means that some of them are…”
Father shrugged. “You can’t just throw a bunch of kids together and expect everyone to have a great time. So they created buffers, antagonists, and facilitators.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“You don’t have to. Drink your medicine.”
Freesia took the cup, brought it up to her mouth, and hesitated. “Did everyone get updates today?”
“Yes, but I doubt anyone else’s system crashed. So things went on as normal.”
She brought the cup up to her mouth—and stopped again. She twisted around and nodded toward the very exposed toilet. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to use that before I go.”
“Of course!” Her father headed for the door. “I’ll wait in the hall. Let me know when you’re ready.”
When Father shut himself in the hallway, she hurried to the toilet and, before she had time to reconsider, dumped the green liquid. She counted to thirty and flushed.
“I’m ready,” she called out.
Her father came into the bubblepod and took her empty medicine cup.
She settled into the recliner and gazed at the hard, clear walls. “Tell me how this works.”
“This is your monitor,” Father said, gesturing toward the bubble walls. “The images project all around you. Sounds come from speakers in the ceiling and floor. The control ball is your bubble. And this—” he pointed to the black rubber floor—“is a treadmill.”
Father twisted open a bottle of clear liquid and poured it into the stainless-steel cup. “Have some juice. It’s important for you to stay hydrated.”
Freesia peered at the liquid. “Are there memory blockers in here, too?”
“Oh, no—this is what you drink every day. The blockers are just for when you make the transition from the real to the virtual state.”
Freesia sipped the liquid. It was sweet with a metallic aftertaste.
“Have some more,” Father urged.
Obediently, she took a few gulps and put the cup back on the stainless-steel tray. Feeling suddenly relaxed, she took it all in: the hard white walls, the silver table, the black rubber floor, her father’s tired face.
She wouldn’t miss this place, not one bit.
“Send me home, please.”
12
She expected to find herself on the beach where she’d blacked out, but no: she was back in her pretty room in her pretty house in Agalinas, sitting—slumping, really—in her pink lounger, the peacocks at her feet. Her silver bubble sat in its trumpet-shaped charger. One thing was different. A brand-new holographic poster of Chase Bennett covered an entire wall! That must have been what her parents meant when they said they would make things nice for her.
“Sing,” she commanded Ashley.
As the peacock launched into a new Chase Bennett tune, the holograph swayed, gyrated, and moved his lips in close-enough time to the song.
No time for sadness
Here on the island, girl.
We’re far from madness
Here on the island, girl.
Forget your worries,
Forget your cares,
Forget who you were,
Forget what you’d wear,
’Cuz when you’re on the island, girl,
All that matters is that you’re an island girl.
Thank Todd some things stayed the same. Chase Bennett? Was still an artistic genius.
“Mummy?” she called out.
Just like that, Mummy appeared at the door: pretty, happy, shiny Mummy.
“Yes, sweet Freesia? Can I get you something? A coffee cloud? An afternoon snack? Some happy juice?”
“No, thank you. Just…”
Mummy kept standing there. Kept smiling. Kept shining.
“What was I like as a child?” Freesia asked.
“You were beautiful,” Mummy said. “Also sweet as a cupcake and happy as a hummingbird.”
“I love you, Mummy.” Freesia’s voice cracked, and her nose stung in an odd way. She felt something spill out of her eyes, but when she touched her cheek and checked her fingers, they were dry.
“I love you, too!” Mummy remained in the doorway, smiling.
How could Mummy be make-believe? And this whole room: could she really be back in that awful bubblepod? It all felt so real.
“Should I stay or should I go?” Mummy asked.
Freesia squeezed her eyes shut. “Go.”
When she opened her eyes again, Mummy was gone, but Ashley and Jennifer, the peacocks, had wandered over to her feet, along with a tiny cat with extravagant white fur.
“Who are you?” Freesia pushed herself out of the pink lounger and scooped up the warm, silky cat. It rumbled in her arms.
“Yow,” the cat said.
“That’s your name?”
“Yow,” the cat confirmed, closing his eyes and rumbling some more.
Freesia took Yow and her bu
bble into her enormous closet and checked her reflection in the wall mirror.
Thank Todd: she was back to pretty. No, better than pretty—she was back to herself. She was not, of course, wearing the awful T-shirt and stretch pants from the mainland. Instead she had on a soft blue dress that she didn’t remember buying and a long strand of white beads. It was okay, but right now she needed a boost: something extra vicious.
She pointed her bubble at the mirror. “Attire assistance,” she commanded.
An image of Freesia holding the cat appeared in the mirror, but this Freesia was wearing an ankle-length floral dress that she didn’t recognize.
“Another.”
Next up, the Freesia in the mirror wore a strappy black blouse with tight white jeans. She was certain she’d never seen them before.
“This is flippy,” she told Yow, placing him on the pink chenille sofa and turning her attention to the racks.
There was a white peasant blouse with pale blue trim. A tiny black dress with cutouts. A red miniskirt. A strapless pink denim dress.
“I have all new clothes!”
She had to tell Jelissa. She was bubbling her friend before she thought of all the other things she had to talk about.
Jelissa was transmitting from her balcony, on a street two levels below and a little to the right of Freesia’s. She wore enormous red heart-shaped sunglasses and a straw sunhat.
“If you’re calling to tell me, I already know,” she said.
“You do?”
“It’s on both their bubble updates, plus I ran into her at the beach club, and she told me they were going to the dance together.”
“Wait—what?”
“Dare and Chai. They’re linked. But you’re better off without him. I hope you know that.”
Dare Fiesta. Handsome. Perfect. Dull. Predictable. Just like that, she knew: Dare was an artificial construct. Chai could have him.
“I know that,” Freesia said. “Plus … I know some other things. Can you meet me at Tracey’s in half an hour?”
“Of course!” Jelissa said. “Love you oodles!”
“Love you more!” Freesia said, realizing for the first time just how much she meant it.
Freesia yanked the strapless pink denim dress off its hanger and traded her beads for a skinny white cotton scarf. She gave her thick copper locks a quick brush, dusted peach glitter over her cheeks, put her bubble, some lip gloss, and Yow in an oversized tote, and scampered out of her house.
“Oh! My! Todd!”
Just outside the back door, she froze. Instead of a stepping-stone walkway running through a butterfly garden to the narrow street, a stone bridge arched over a glistening, gurgling swimming pool that disappeared around either side of her house. She crossed the stone bridge and followed the pool around one side, where she encountered a steamy spa with an ocean view.
She went back around the house and followed the pool along the other side. Two steps led up to a ledge, which served as a launching point for the longest waterslide Freesia had ever seen. It traveled through her front yard, over a bridge, through the down-below neighbor’s yard, over another bridge, through another yard, and so on until it emptied into a newly roped-off section of the harbor.
“But how can this be?” Freesia wondered aloud. “I wasn’t gone long enough for anyone to build this.”
Of course. The Chase Bennett poster was only one piece of the A-level upgrade.
Freesia began to giggle. “Thank you, Mother!”
Just like that, Mummy appeared at the kitchen window.
“You’re welcome, sweet Freesia.”
Freesia forced a smile. Mummy wasn’t real. Neither were the pool or the waterslide or even the cat, who’d fallen asleep at the bottom of her tote.
Legs wobbly, she walked to her itty car, which was parked on the street just a few feet from the pool.
Tracey’s Famous Coffee was at the end of Front Street closest to Freesia’s house. Jelissa was already there, sitting at an outside table, her straw hat shading her creamy face from the sun.
“You’re sure you’re not upset?” Jelissa said as Freesia pulled out her chair.
“Upset? Oh—you mean about Dare and Chai. No, not at all.” Freesia sat down and peered at the oversized white coffee mug.
“It’s a coffee cloud,” Jelissa said. “Would you rather have a wackaccino?”
“Oh—no. It looks scrummy. Thanks.”
“Have you figured out what you’re wearing tonight?” Jelissa asked.
“For…?”
“The dance, silly! Meet there at nine, like we said?”
Freesia stared at her friend. “What day is it?”
“Is this a joke?”
“Please. Just tell me. What day is it?”
“I adore a clever joke.”
“What day?”
“Saturday, of course. So what’s the joke?”
It couldn’t be—but it was. After repeating Tuesday, they had skipped all the way to Saturday. Freesia felt dizzy.
“What did you do yesterday?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Yesterday was Friday,” Jelissa said. “Which means I had French immersion followed by a mani-pedi.” She held out her hands, showing off glossy nails, each painted with a different seashell. “Next was lunch, Art Appreciation, a sea salt spa treatment, a beach picnic for dinner, and a night swim with the dolphins.”
“Yes, that’s what happens every Friday. But do you actually recall doing those things yesterday?”
Jelissa pulled her heart-shaped glasses down her nose and gazed over them for a long, long time. “This is about Dare, isn’t it?”
“No! This isn’t about Dare! This is about…” Freesia looked around to make sure no one was listening and then she lowered her voice. “Yesterday … Tuesday … I went back to the real world.”
Jelissa pushed her glasses back up her nose. She tilted her head to one side. “Is this a trick? So it’s a trick and not a joke?”
“Look at the hillside.” Freesia pointed to her new waterslide.
“I’m looking,” Jelissa said.
“Don’t you notice something new? Something long? And blue? And sparkling?”
“Is that a waterslide?”
“It’s my waterslide. I have a swimming pool now, too.”
“Vicious!”
“No! Not vicious. Well, maybe a little bit vicious. But flippy. How could anyone build something so fast?”
“We have very efficient serfs in Avalon.”
“No one is that efficient.”
“I’m afraid I don’t like this trick very much.”
“Jelissa, the trick is this place. The coffee shop, Front Street, my house, your house, all the stores, our school … none of it is real.”
Jelissa tilted her head to the other side.
“We’re not really together at the coffee shop,” Freesia continued. “It just looks like we are. And this cat—” She reached into her bag and pulled out a sleepy Yow.
“Pretty!” Jelissa reached out to stroke Yow’s silky fur.
“Yes. He’s pretty. But he’s not real.” Freesia slipped the cat back into her tote, where he immediately resumed his nap. “Jelissa, we are living in a multiplayer virtual reality program called Bubble World. Our parents signed us up. Hooked us up. And then they gave us drugs that messed with our memories. We’re not really living together on a magical island. Instead, we’re all alone in these things called bubblepods and wearing”—Freesia paused to gather her strength—“stretch pants.”
Jelissa took a sip of her coffee and then put the mug on the table. “I love you oodles, Free, but this is utterly unfunny.”
“It’s worse than unfunny. It’s odious. Jelly, if you could see me, the way I really look—”
“What are you talking about? You look luminous! And I adore that dress. Is it new?”
“I only look like I look luminous. Because everything about me—my hair, my eyes, my long, long legs—it’s all f
ake. In the real world, I have bumpy skin, bushy eyebrows, and seriously bad hair. Also I’m short and, and … I’m fat! Only not as fat as a lot of other people. In the real world, people are a hundred kinds of ugly.”
Jelissa pushed her chair back and stood up. She pulled off her sunglasses and dropped them in her purse. Her face was pink, and not from the sun. “Stop.”
“I know it sounds crazy, and I know it’s hard to hear, but in the real world—”
Jelissa covered her ears. “I don’t need to hear any more about the so-called real world! I have lots of friendlies, but only one bestie. And now you’re telling me that we don’t even know each other? That we’ve never even met?”
“Of course not.”
“What?”
“No.”
“What?”
“You need to take your hands off your ears.” Freesia gestured.
Jelissa dropped her hands, but she still looked wary.
“I know you better than I know anyone,” Freesia said. “And our friendship is as real as they come. But this table, this mug … the harbor and boats … your body and mine. They don’t exist. I don’t even know what you look like.”
Jelissa’s pale eyes shone with unspilled tears. Her rosebud mouth quivered. “I don’t … I wish … I can’t…” She shook her head. “I’ll see you tonight. And, Freesia?”
“Yes?”
“I really do like your dress.” She turned away and hurried down the street.
Hands shaking, Freesia poked around in her tote until she found her bubble under Yow.
“Enemy check.”
The silver bubble began to glow: first green, then blue.
CHAI COTILLION … TRANSMITTING
TASER LUCAS … NOT TRANSMITTING
DARE FIESTA … TRANSMITTING
Dash it. She had no desire to watch Chai and Dare getting all fizzy together (though she’d love to see the look on Chai’s face if she learned that Dare wasn’t real), but she wanted to talk to Taser. No, she needed to talk to Taser.
Taser’s house lay a few blocks behind Front Street in a flat stretch of land cleverly dubbed The Flats. His house was blue and pointy, with purple shutters and yellow whirly swirls decorating the eaves.
Freesia rang the doorbell.
Just like that, Taser’s mother—blond, trim, and pretty, in a tennis dress and bright white sneakers—opened the door.