by Carol Snow
Ricky had his very own zipline, with stops at the learning center and the Front Street Beach. Within minutes, he and Freesia were on the sand, surrounded by tizzy friendlies.
“It’s Chase Bennett!” Cabo explained.
Just beyond the bay, which was lit only with twinkling boat lights and a few final streaks of pink in the sky, a ship far larger than any they’d ever seen glowed as if it were illuminated from within. A helicopter sat on its roof, and a small boat trailed from a rope behind.
In the excitement, Freesia forgot, at least for the moment, that Agalinas was not what she’d always thought it was. “Mr. Coda said Chase Bennett would be vacationing in Agalinas. But I never dreamed it would be so soon.”
“He’s holding a bubblecast essay contest,” Ferdinand said. “Submissions are due by ten o’clock tomorrow morning. I’m going to compose mine after I get home from the dance.”
“What’s the prize?” Ricky asked.
“The winner gets to meet Chase Bennett and tour his yacht.”
“Oh my Todd!” Freesia jumped up and down on the sand. “I am Chase Bennett’s biggest fan. I have to meet him. What’s the essay topic?”
“Why I Want to Meet Chase Bennett,” Ferdinand told her.
“Clever,” Cabo said.
And everyone agreed.
14
If Freesia owned a calendar, she could have said how many Saturday night dances she had attended at the Rotunda, but keeping track of time was even more borrifying than Cantonese immersion class on a day when the instructor neglected to supply fortune cookies. Costume dances were her favorite because she could dress up as a fairy tale princess (and, on occasion, a wood nymph). But she also enjoyed the Sweet Fifteens and Seventeens (the Sixteens, in her opinion, were too predictable) because they featured tall, sparkly cakes, lush floral bouquets, and unexpected amusements like Ferris wheels and magic shows.
As if the sight of Chase Bennett’s yacht moored just outside the harbor weren’t enough to take her mind off her recent discovery, a fleet of hot-air balloons covered the hillside across from the Rotunda. A handful had already been set free to drift into the night sky.
On the pathway adjacent to the hillside, Jelissa clapped her hands with delight. “Oh, Freesia, isn’t this magical? I’ve always wanted to go up in a hot-air balloon!”
After their coffee shop conversation, Freesia feared that Jelissa would still be angry with her—or, maybe worse, that she would ask Freesia to explain herself further. Instead, her friend acted as if nothing had happened.
“You should ask Dare to take a ride with you,” Jelissa suggested. “I’d love to see Chai go all wiggy.”
“I think I’ll ask Ricky instead.”
Jelissa giggled and gave her a little pinch.
“It’s not like that! Ricky’s my second bestie. I need to chat with him about … things.”
Jelissa frowned. “I hope you will not upset him the way you upset me this morning.”
“Of course not.”
Freesia envied Jelissa’s ignorance. If only she could go back in time and take the memory blocker instead of dumping it down the toilet.
Coffee-colored Cabo, dressed all in black, and fair Ferdinand, in white, strolled toward them.
“Four people can fit in a basket,” Cabo said.
“And there are two of you and two of us,” Ferdinand added. (See? They’d picked up some math skills along the way.)
On the hillside, girls in fluffy dresses and boys wearing all black or all white stepped into the big wicker baskets. Party serfs untied the heavy red ropes that tethered the balloons to the ground and freed them into the starry sky.
“Freesia’s saving her ride for Ricky,” Jelissa said.
Freesia felt her face grow warm. “We’re just friendlies, almost besties, and—”
“No need to explain.” Jelissa slipped a hand into each boy’s elbow. “Let’s go, boys. See you in the sky, Free.”
Freesia watched her friends drift away in the twinkling night. Then, out of nowhere, it hit her: were Cabo and Ferdinand real?
Did it matter?
She didn’t want it to, but it did.
Freesia pulled her bubble out of her white satin party purse. “Friendlies check.”
She tapped RICKY LEISURE and saw … herself. He’d snuck up next to her when she wasn’t looking.
“Were you bubbling me?” He held a silver bucket filled with a bottle of happy fizz and two glasses.
“I was. Let’s share a balloon.”
Together, they climbed up the wildflower-covered hillside. They craned their necks to examine the giant balloons until they agreed on a turquoise one with a giant purple dragonfly on either side. A serf untied the rope that tethered the basket to the ground, and up they went.
Ricky popped open the happy fizz, poured two glasses, and gave one to Freesia. She clutched the side of the basket and watched the world below grow smaller and smaller. The wind on her face was colder than she expected. She should have brought a wrap.
“Chilly?” Ricky asked.
She nodded.
He stepped behind her and encircled her waist with his arms. Immediately, she felt warm and safe.
The balloon drifted along the coastline. She could see the Avalon Beach Club and the Agalinas Learning World. The yellow class huts looked like toy houses. Beyond, the rocky coast dropped right into the ocean, gentle waves lapping the land.
A burst of wind hit the balloon, jolting the basket just a bit and steering them farther inland. Ricky gave Freesia a reassuring squeeze.
“It’s flippy how real this all feels,” she said.
He stiffened. “If something feels real, then it is real.”
They were drifting over the hills now. Inland, where the land was flatter, she could make out some tanks and barracks from the zap wars. The other hot-air balloons, a veritable swarm of them, bobbed and swayed farther out, closer to the water. Freesia felt like an ant who had hitchhiked on a bunch of birthday balloons.
“Life here is magical,” Freesia whispered.
* * *
The Rotunda was the biggest and most beautiful building on the island. Stark white with a red domed roof, curved walls, and columns, it jutted into the bay. In the plaza outside the main entrance, a blue glass dolphin leapt from a saltwater fountain alive with skinny silver fish. Inside, murals covered the walls: sea life in the entryway, Greek and Roman gods in the theater, and scenes from Agalinas in the ballroom. Freesia never tired of gazing up at the mosaic on the ballroom ceiling: rubies, sapphires, emeralds, amethysts, topaz, and pearls.
The ballroom was pleasantly crowded when they arrived. Freesia delighted in the sight of all the pretty dresses, all the pretty shoes, all the pretty girls, all the pretty boys. Especially the pretty boys. On a small stage, students from the Island Ballet Academy leapt and twirled and spun in perfect time to the Chase Bennett cover band that strummed and drummed on the floor below them.
Freesia scanned the room, searching for Taser Lucas, but he wasn’t there.
“Shall we visit the cake?” Ricky asked.
Together, they crossed the ballroom, saying hello to a friendly every few steps, until they reached a towering mass of vanilla and buttercream in the shape of an ostrich. Below the confectionary bird lay a giant chocolate egg.
“Why an ostrich?” Freesia asked the Advanced Pastry student stationed by the plates.
“Why not?”
Freesia could not deny his logic. The pastry class always made duplicate cakes for slicing. The student handed Freesia and Ricky each a serving of ostrich cake sprinkled with chocolate shavings.
“Did you know that some people only eat dessert after a meal?” Ricky asked.
Before replying, Freesia took a forkful of cake: sweet-ish, creamy-ish, not as good as the red velvet cupcake at the Arizona mall, but okay. Ish.
“That makes no sense,” she said once she’d swallowed. “After a meal, your tummy is too full to properly appreciate a tasty pa
stry.”
Ricky finished his cake and accepted a second plate, but Freesia held off: she was too anxious to move on to the pasta bar, which offered eleven pasta shapes and fourteen sauces.
Sometime during the evening—long after Freesia had eaten and laughed with countless friendlies and had danced so much that her warm face felt pleasantly damp—it struck her: Ricky was right. Agalinas was real because it felt real. Nothing else mattered.
At midnight, party serfs passed trays of happy fizz. They all held up their glasses and said, in unison, “Here’s to today. Here’s to tomorrow. Happy dreams to all.”
Soon afterward, Freesia was back in her bedroom. Yow snoozed on her fuzzy pink pillows. Suddenly sleepy, she longed to join him, but first she had a bubblecast essay to compose.
She sat in her lounger and held her silver bubble in both hands. “Composition.”
The bubble glowed green, then blue, then a bright, shiny white.
Freesia said, “Why I Should Meet Chase Bennett, by Freesia Summers.” Immediately, the words appeared on the bubble. Freesia gazed at her new holographic poster for a moment before continuing.
“I don’t remember the first time I heard Chase Bennett sing. It’s like Chase and his songs have always been a part of my life. They are the first thing I listen to in the morning. The last thing I hear at night. If I were ever sad, they would make me happy, but I am never sad. And I think that is because I listen to Chase Bennett’s music so much. To me, he is more than a person. More than a musician. He is everything good in the universe rolled into one. So that’s why I should meet him. So I can tell him just how vicious I think he is. And also, I don’t know if this matters, but I’d really like to see his yacht.”
Freesia read back the composition. Satisfied, she said, “Transmit to Chase Bennett bubblecast essay contest.”
The bubble glowed blue, then green. Then blue, then green, and finally silver. The composition had been sent.
Freesia placed the bubble in its charger. She crawled into bed and scooted Yow to the other side of the pillow. “If I win, I’ll take you with me.”
Yow purred.
Freesia fell into a deep, sweet sleep.
15
The next morning, everything went according to schedule: peacocks, Chase Bennett, Mummy with the coffee.…
“Nothing like a shot of premium espresso to snap your day into shape!” With her free hand, Mummy snapped her fingers.
“What are you talking about? Where’s my coffee cloud?”
“American coffees can’t compare to Snappi brand imported Italian espresso.” Mummy snapped her fingers again. “That’s Snappi with an i,” she added.
“But what happened to Tracey’s?”
“We shall not speak of this.” Mummy handed her a bitty white cup that said SNAPPI. “Would you like—”
“Pancakes,” Freesia said. “In here. And, yes, you can go.”
Freesia took an itty sip of espresso, only to discover that Snappi tasted exactly like Tracey’s. She tossed it back and hopped out of bed.
* * *
Front Street was overflowing with tizzy teens by the time Freesia arrived, looking especially de-vicious in an apple red sundress and shiny white heels. She scanned the crowd and quickly found Jelissa, Cabo, and Ferdinand. Ricky, naturally, chose to sleep late rather than attend the announcement; he hadn’t written an essay, anyway.
Taser was nowhere to be seen, but she wasn’t sure what she’d say to him, anyway. Agalinas is real because it feels real. If anything, Taser should understand that better than anyone. After all, his zap wars were more real to him than, well … than that other thing that up until recently she had assumed was the actual world. But Taser had a fondness for conspiracy theories; if she told him about her visit to “the mainland,” he’d never let it go, never let her resume her happy life.
Chase Bennett’s bright white ship was right where it had been the night before. At precisely ten o’clock, someone (Chase Bennett? No, this person had darker hair) boarded the skiff at the back and headed for shore. As it neared the long green pier, the engine’s buzz grew to a roar.
The man steering the boat was trim, clean-shaven, and ageless. He wore a navy blue polo shirt, khaki pants, and brown boat shoes. Once he tied the skiff up to a slip, he climbed out and trotted down the pier to address the crowd, a large white envelope in hand.
“Chase Bennett sincerely thanks you all for participating in his essay contest. He sincerely wishes he could invite you all to tour his watercraft. Unfortunately, his vessel just isn’t big enough.”
Everyone paused to gauge the size of the yacht, which was quite obviously more than big enough.
“However, we are happy to announce the lucky Avalon resident who will get to meet Chase and tour his ship. And the winner is…”
As he tore open the envelope, Jelissa grabbed Freesia’s hand and squeezed so hard it should have hurt.
“… Freesia Summers!”
She’d won. She’d really, really won. Freesia was so happy she could hardly breathe. But she did breathe, which was good because this would have been an inconvenient time to pass out.
Her friends, who were nearly as excited as she, hustled her through the crowd to the envelope man.
“I’m Freesia,” she told him.
“Excellent. Follow me, please.” He spun around and headed for the skiff.
“But wait. Don’t I have time to freshen up and change my clothes? I have this sailor dress—it would be scrummy with red flats. Plus, I told my cat he could come.”
He was at the boat now, untying the rope. If she didn’t follow, she might miss the biggest chance of her real and virtual lives combined. She hurried along the pier, wobbling in her heels. “Wait! I’m coming!”
* * *
Chase Bennett had named his yacht Island Girl, just like the song. Up close, it was even more giganto than it had appeared from shore. Freesia was so awestruck that she barely had time to worry if anything was showing when she climbed a rope ladder ahead of the dark-haired man.
She hauled herself (none too gracefully) over the side of the boat onto a shiny teak deck. A star-shaped pool glistened in the center. Two crisp women in white jackets, their hair slicked back in buns, waited with trays.
“Lemon sipper? Vanilla fizz? A hot cup of Snappi brand imported Italian espresso?”
“Chocolate-covered strawberry? Cucumber sandwich? Peppermint meringue?”
Freesia selected a vanilla fizz and a meringue.
The dark-haired man appeared over the side of the ship. Wordlessly, he and the servers retreated beyond a wooden doorway.
Freesia sipped her vanilla fizz, which, when she thought about it, didn’t taste much like vanilla and wasn’t fizzy at all. (In Freesia’s experience, it was generally best not to think about things too much.)
A door opened, and yet another woman in a white jacket with a slicked-back bun appeared. “Mr. Chase will greet you now.”
Freesia scampered over the teak deck and into the giant ship, where she found herself in a kind of entryway with a circular white couch, a gurgling fountain, and surprisingly high ceilings.
At last, a set of double doors opened, and there he was, Chase Bennett—or, at least, some reasonable facsimile, which was the best she could hope for under the circumstances. He wore his signature white baseball cap, a sleeveless white T-shirt, blue board shorts, and leather flip-flops. A thin silver hoop glinted in his left earlobe. Lit from behind, he looked like an angel.
Freesia began to babble. “I’m so … this is such … you have no idea how many times—”
He said, “My fans mean everything to me. Without you guys, I’m just a guy who likes to sing.”
“I utterly adore your music!” Freesia’s voice quavered.
“I’m so glad. And I really liked what you said in your, you know, essay. Would you like a tour of the ship?”
Freesia could only nod.
“I’ve got a recording session with Felicity Fluff
erhaus in an hour—I sent my helicopter to pick up Felicity and my producer from the mainland. Until then, I’m all yours.”
He grinned. His teeth were super white and just a little bit pointy, though not in a creepy vampire way. He had a dimple in his left cheek but not in his right (which she already knew from hours spent staring at his picture).
“I have a holograph of you in my bedroom. But you’re even more de-vicious in person.” She paused. “I hope that’s not a squiggy thing to say.”
He laughed. “No. I’m flattered.”
Chase held the door open for her. (Not only was he wicked talented, he was wicked polite.) Now they were in a giant atrium, three stories high with a glass elevator, wicker furniture, and a shiny white baby grand piano. Purple koi swam in a fountain. Birds sang in gilded cages. Sunshine from the transparent ceiling nurtured a veritable jungle of flowering plants, their perfume making her an itty bit dizzy.
Chase slid onto the piano bench. “Would you like me to play something? You can sit next to me if you like.”
She would like.
The bench was smooth and cold. His fingers were long and square and almost seemed a part of the piano, so effortlessly did they scamper across the keys.
“I’ve been working on a new song. It’s called “Then You Smiled.” He tilted his chin, half closed his eyes, and began to sing.
I woke up one day, not feeling wild,
No wind in my sails, no wag in my tail,
Didn’t think I could win, just thought I could fail.
Then you rang my phone and came to my door.
And then you smiled.
Yeah, girl, that’s when you smiled.
And when you smile, girl,
You make me wild, girl.
Oh, yeah, girl, I love your smile.
He turned and smiled. “It’s not done yet. But you get the basic idea.”
“I think it’s done! I think it’s vicious!”
He shook his head. “I have to be careful. Not to settle, you know? Because this teen idol thing, it’s not going to last forever. If I want to make the transition to being a serious artist, I have to push myself.”