Bubbles

by Abby Cooper

  Two guys got out of the van. One was holding a ginormous video camera.

  “Molly?”

  “Blake? Shel? What are you doing here?”

  “My buddy Rick from Beach Services called to say there were a bunch of loonies running around in the rain. Thought I’d come take a look. Slow news day.”

  Mom and I shared a look that said, “Wait, who is he calling a looney?” and also, “Slow news day? Uhhh, hello? We have news!”

  My grin got even bigger. Mom and I were sharing looks.

  “Well, there actually was a triathlon here this morning.” Mr. Alvarado stepped forward. “Sophie organized one since there was a problem with the one she and her friends had intended to do. They were doing it for their risk project for my class.” He looked really proud.

  “Is that so? You didn’t give me a heads-up, Mol.” Blake swatted Mom playfully on the wrist. Ohhh, so that’s who Blake was. I knew his name sounded familiar. He was the guy they hired after they banished Mom to our couch.

  “Ha. I didn’t know what it’d be like until now.”

  “Well…” Blake looked my way. “Sophie, I know it’s kind of short notice, but we’ve got a three-minute human interest segment that needs filling, and it sounds like you had quite the adventure here. Feel like sharing with, oh, ten million people or so?”

  I gulped. I’d hoped to be on TV. This was what I wanted. But now that the bright light of the camera was blinding me and Blake was looking at me like I was really, really important, being on TV seemed scarier than taking a ride on the Mayflower in 1620.

  “Do it, Sophie!” Kaya elbowed me. “An Adventurous Girl would.”

  “Yep,” Rafael agreed. “Come on! You can be almost as famous as me. I ripped my shirt off at the start of our race, thus I am awesome,” he explained to Blake. “I’d be happy to share that with your viewers. Also, do you have any connections at ZOOM Athletics? Specifically, their Very Warm Glove Department?”

  I shoved him out of the way.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

  “That’s the spirit. Okay, we only have a few minutes, so I’ll need to pin this microphone to your shirt, and, oh, I need your mom to sign this waiver.” He grabbed a clipboard from his backseat and handed it to Mom. “Anything you need before we film?” He reached back into the van and rummaged through a duffel bag. “I have water, a granola bar, uh … water or a granola bar?”

  “Well, there is one thing I want,” I said. Then I leaned in and whispered it in his ear.

  “Sure, we can do that,” he said. “Not a problem at all.”

  Ms. Wolfson flashed me a thumbs-up sign, and Blake did, too, and before I knew it, the camera was rolling, the lights were flashing, and I was on TV.

  35

  FIGURING IT OUT

  “We’re coming to you live from Bridgemont Beach,” Blake said, “where, despite rules, regulations, and the biggest downpour we’ve had in over five years, twelve-year-old Sophie Mulvaney planned and implemented her own mini-triathlon. Sophie, what inspired you to do this?”

  I blinked a billion times. Words, I thought. Say words.

  “Well, I needed to do a risk project for school,” I said. “And my friends and I were going to do a mini-triathlon, because it was pretty scary for all of us for different reasons. I forgot to turn in our registration forms, and I felt really bad. And I still really wanted to do the race. Or a race.”

  “Looks like you weren’t the only one,” said Blake. “How’d you get such a huge turnout?”

  “My friends did that.” I shot them all a huge grin, and they grinned back.

  “And I noticed that your mom did the race with you as well,” Blake said. “Folks, you might recognize Molly Mulvaney. She used to be a broadcaster here on Channel 23. Molly, can you tell us why you supported Sophie’s idea, and why you ran the race yourself?”

  Mom stepped forward and swept her bangs to the side.

  “I, uh…” She stared at the camera. Then she blinked and suddenly looked like her old self. Mom stood up straight and gave the camera a big smile. “I used to be a big runner,” she said. “Really into races. I did a ton of them, and then I stopped. Sophie motivated me to get back into it, to do what I used to love, even if it was hard, even if it scared me.” Mom laughed. “Sophie’s a better adult than I am. Do you run, Blake?”

  I grinned. This was one of Mom’s old techniques. She’d report on something and then totally surprise whoever else was around by asking if they’d ever tried whatever she was talking about, and then she’d make them do it. It made for some pretty hilarious TV.

  Blake laughed. “Not at all.”

  Mom pointed to where we had come from.

  “Then you better get going,” she said. “But watch out for Rick, the guy on beach patrol. Viewers, it turns out there are rules on beaches. More on that later.” She nudged Blake. “The people are waiting,” she said. Blake looked at me and I shrugged. Sorry, I mouthed. Blake chuckled, and he took off toward the water in his shiny black shoes and dress pants. He slogged along really slowly. Before we ran together in the gym, Mom hadn’t been running since her last race. But it looked like Blake hadn’t been running ever.

  “Folks, this has been Blake Taylor and Molly Mulvaney from Channel 23, saying go run somewhere today with someone you love. Don’t forget to tune in live at ten for more happy news. And, you know, the rest of the news, too.” Mom grinned and the camera guy pressed a button and gave her a hand signal. “All clear,” he said, and put the camera down. Mom rushed up and gave him a hug. “Missed you, Shel,” she said.

  Then she turned to me and hugged me so hard that my feet almost lifted right up off the ground. Her cheeks were glowing. All of her was glowing, really.

  “This day,” she said, “has been the best.”

  “Totally,” I agreed.

  Even though our race and our TV appearance were done, people lingered in the parking lot like it was the place to party. A lot of people came up to me to say good job and congratulations. Some of those people were my friends, and some I didn’t know. And almost all of them had that same glow that Mom did.

  Except for one.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. Kaya sat all by herself on the curb with her head in her hands. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes.

  “Nothing. It’s dumb. I should be happy. I swam!”

  “You totally swam,” I said. “You swam seriously fast, too. You could probably beat a lifeguard in a race. Or a shark!”

  She giggled. “Right. It’s just—I dunno, it’s everything.”

  “I’m so sorry we couldn’t do the real triathlon,” I told her.

  “I know you are. Rafael knows, too. That’s why we made you our new project!”

  “Your … huh?”

  “We told Mr. Alvarado some new project ideas, but he kept asking about the triathlon, so we told him how we couldn’t do it anymore because of you. And he told us that sometimes friendship is a risk. Like a real grown-up mature friendship, where you forgive people when they make mistakes instead of just not talking to them anymore or whatever. It’s hard and scary, sometimes. He said it would be cool—and risky—if we supported you even though we were still a little mad. After all, you were making a whole new race, like, for us.”

  I smiled. I’d never thought of friendship as risky before, but maybe it kinda was.

  “And, as your supportive friend, I have to tell you that what you said to me about Rafael liking Viv really bugged me, and I can’t forget about it no matter what.”

  “Because you’re going out with him?”

  “What?” She gave me a funny look. “No, but I kinda like him as more than a friend. Or I think I do, at least.” Her face turned bright pink. “Sometimes I call him my boyfriend in my head. Super embarrassing, right?”

  She called him her boyfriend in her head?

  They weren’t really going out?

  That bubble … was a lie?

  But it was what she was thinki
ng!

  I had been sure that Kaya’s bubble was a fact. It seemed as obvious as how popular William Seward must have been after he bought Alaska for the United States.

  I guess it sorta was a fact, though—it was real to her, even if it wasn’t, like, real real.

  Which maybe I could have figured out if I had talked to her about it before now.

  “I don’t think he likes Viv,” I told Kaya.

  “You don’t?” Her eyes got all big and hopeful.

  “No. I know I said that, but I was wrong. I lied, and I’m sorry. But the thing is, I think I might kinda like him, too.” Our eyes locked. “But maybe not. I’m not sure. I’ve only ever really liked Demarius.”

  “Maybe I’m not sure, either,” Kaya said, looking out into the parking lot. Rafael was dancing with Mr. Alvarado’s kids. “He’s just so fun. And I think it would be cool to go out with someone.”

  “Sophie, Kaya!” Mom hollered, and waved her arms. Everyone was getting into cars. “Come on! Celebration pancake party!”

  Pancake party! Heck to the yes! I grabbed Kaya’s hand and pulled her up.

  “We’ll figure this out later,” I promised. “But right now, we need to eat pancakes.”

  “With extra chocolate chips,” she said.

  “Definitely.”

  36

  PANCAKE PARTY

  Our group took up five big tables at the diner. I felt kinda bad for the other people who were there when we barged in, but they seemed okay when they realized we were the people from TV. Plus Kaya had a few extra TEAM EVERYBODY shirts, so she gave some out to strangers.

  No one stayed in their seats once we all sat down. Everybody bopped around from table to table. Viv, especially, couldn’t sit still. One second she was with her mom, then she was with Rafael, then Mr. Alvarado, then Mei. Everybody. Even when the food came, she bounced around. But that’s how she’d always been at school—popular, floating from group to group—and that’s how she was at the pancake place.

  And that’s when I understood something major, and I didn’t need a bubble to do it. Friendship could be risky. For everyone. Even Viv Carlson.

  I went and sat by her.

  “Hello?” she said, like it was a question.

  “Hello,” I said. “Can I ask you something?”

  “I guess?”

  “Before you started hanging out with Kaya and Rafael all the time, who were your friends?”

  Viv squirmed around in her seat.

  “What do you mean? A lot of people. Everybody, basically. The group from dance team, the people at the gym, the cast of the musical, everyone online…”

  “Yeah, but, like, who’d you hang out with the most? Who knew you the best?”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it, then looked me right in the eye. “Can I tell you the truth about something?”

  “The truth would be great.”

  “When I said my risk project was something more challenging than a triathlon? Well, you guys were my project. Being part of, like, a real group of friends. I mean, I’m kinda friends with everybody, but nobody really knows me that well. And I don’t really hang out with anyone outside of school or my activities. So my goal was to, you know, really be part of something. Your something. You and Rafael and Kaya. I like you guys a lot.”

  I looked away. This whole time, her big, secret, “more challenging” project … was being our friend. And not just being Rafael and Kaya’s friend. She wanted to be my friend, too.

  “I, um”—she was practically whispering—“I feel weird about myself, sometimes. Like I’m all awkward and not cool enough to have real friends and stuff. It’s really embarrassing, but sometimes I tell myself in my head how great I am. Maybe someday I’ll actually believe it. Hanging out with you guys makes me feel like I actually am great.”

  “But it seemed like you didn’t want to hang out with me. You only ever wanted to hang out with Kaya and Rafael.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No?”

  “I wanted to hang out with you the most. You’re the coolest person ever. I was nervous you wouldn’t like me. I thought if I could be friends with Kaya and Rafael first, and they liked me, then maybe you’d like me, too.”

  So she wasn’t plotting anything weird or evil. She was plotting friendship. With me! And I hadn’t noticed, because I was so stuck on thinking of her as the person I thought she was and thinking about her bubbles in the way I wanted to think about them.

  “That’s a really cool project,” I told her.

  “Thanks.” She turned her attention back to her strawberry pancake and took a bite. “Hey,” she added. “You were telling the truth, weren’t you? In fourth grade. You put that sign on my locker. I always kinda knew it.” She smiled, but scooted her chair back like she was going to get up.

  “Hey, wait,” I said. “Stay. Let’s hang out.”

  And we did.

  And you know what?

  Hanging out with Viv Carlson was actually pretty fun.

  37

  ALL THE TRUTH

  That afternoon, after the pancake party, I asked Mom to take me to the public library so I could do some history research. The thing was, what if everything I thought I knew I actually didn’t? What if I’d sped through things I’d read, or heard wrong on the History Channel, or twisted and turned things in my brain so they sounded like facts I thought were cool to hear?

  It was time to find the truth. All the truth. Even if I didn’t like it.

  The first thing I did, with the super cool librarian’s help, was look up some information about Alaska. That was one thing I always thought was awesome. This guy, William Seward, was just a regular dude, but he made such a huge difference. I’d never been to Alaska, but I couldn’t imagine the United States without it.

  Only, as I looked up more and more information, some articles were called “Alaska Purchase,” but others were called “Seward’s Folly.” As it turned out, a lot of people thought it was dumb to buy Alaska. They thought it was a mistake. They made fun of him. He was famous, but not everybody loved him. Not even close.

  I kept researching. Walter Washington Williams, the 117-year-old last remaining veteran of the Civil War, may have been a total faker. According to some articles, there was no evidence that he had ever served in the war, or that he was ever 117.

  More searches for more topics came back with all kinds of results. People had tons of opinions about the best kings and queens and presidents and every other kind of leader and place and event there ever was.

  Sure, you couldn’t really argue with dates and places and stuff, but besides those things, there weren’t any clear answers anywhere.

  Maybe there weren’t clear answers with people I knew, either.

  Maybe not even the facts were facts.

  I had liked history because it had always been something I could depend on. It didn’t go from adventurous to not adventurous or from happy to sad or anything else. It didn’t break up with you or fire you or leave you out. It seemed like it was just there, being all fact-y and honest and cool. Now, I realized that I might never know the full truth. Not about history, and not about anybody’s thoughts.

  But maybe I didn’t need history to depend on anymore. I had people I could depend on. And they could depend on me. And it didn’t matter whether we made mistakes or felt sad or lied to ourselves about having a boyfriend when we didn’t. We’d be there for each other no matter what. I did want to be that person Ms. Wolfson said I was, the person Mom could be her real self around, even if that self was sad sometimes.

  No matter what, I had people I could count on, and they could count on me. And that was the best fact of all.

  38

  THE END OF THE BUBBLES

  “I know what happened to the queen,” I told Dr. Llama when I saw him a couple weeks after the race.

  “Oh?”

  “Well, I mean, I don’t really. But I have a guess. I think she was scared when the war was upon her. Not just
for herself, but for her whole kingdom. She felt like it was her job to protect everybody from it, since she sorta brought it on herself, even though she didn’t know exactly why or how.” I leaned forward in my chair. “We don’t know if the war really was her fault, but maybe that’s not even the point. Whether it was or not, she felt like it was her job to fix it, because she was the queen and she knew so much about her people and cared about them and wanted to make their problem go away. So she tried to fix it all by herself, over and over and over again.”

  “And?”

  “And that was nice of her, but it didn’t really work. She was so worried about her people that their worries became her worries. But she didn’t even bother asking them if they were freaked out by the war or if they had ideas to stop it. She did what she thought she should do, but not what people actually needed.”

  “What did they need?”

  I leaned back in the brown chair. It was so comfy. I didn’t know why I used to hate it so much.

  “A friend,” I said.

  Dr. Llama smiled. “So you think the war turned out okay?”

  “I think once the queen asked her friends, Hey, what do you guys think we should do? Are you scared? and actually listened to what they said, then yeah. I think it turned out okay. Because even if they lost the war, they still had each other.”

  He didn’t say anything, just looked at me with that same glowy face I saw on so many people after the triathlon.

  “The queen asking her friends for their ideas reminds me of what you did with your race,” he said. “You took some responsibility off yourself and gave people a way to help themselves. It’s wonderful to want to help people, Sophie,” he said. “As long as you can do it without feeling guilty for their problems. Sometimes it’s no one person’s fault when there’s a war. Or a bubble. Or a friendship struggle or a parent’s sadness or anything else.” He shrugged his giant shoulders. “Sometimes war just comes.”

  I nodded.

  “So, have you seen any new bubbles lately?”