Emergency Contact

by Mary H. K. Choi

  “Mom?”

  “Yes, baby?”

  Penny took a deep breath. “How do you know if you’re in love?” Penny snuck a peek at her mom and could practically hear the AWWWWWWW in her head and Care Bear stares flying out of her eyes.

  “Okay, hmm . . .” Her mother tightened her embrace. “You know how I know?”

  If there was anything Celeste was good for, it was exactly this.

  “I know I love someone when I can’t remember what they look like in any real way. I can never seem to recall whether they’re handsome or ugly or if other people think they’re cute. All I know is that when I’m not with them and I think about them, where their face should be is this big cloud of good feelings and affection.”

  “Ugh,” said Penny. “That’s how you know? I thought you would have a comprehensive list or something.”

  Her mother laughed. “It doesn’t work that way at all,” she said. “It’s more this undeniable mood. It’s this warm, familiar, and exciting feeling where you miss them already when you’re with them.”

  That sounded right.

  Not being with Sam was excruciating.

  STILL PENNY.

  Penny dozed with her mom the way they used to when she was little, facing each other but not touching. Penny wanted to inch over and huff the familiar mom smell deep into her lungs and hold it there. Truth was, before everything went wrong, Penny had slept in her mom’s bed all the time when she lived at home. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it.

  She stared up at her ceiling. Mallory was right. Her mom needed to be milked. Penny had to stop working herself up thinking it was a bigger deal than it was. Especially since Penny missed Celeste and wanted to see her. Her mother’s eyes were closed. It hurt Penny’s heart how much she loved her. How scared she’d been when Michael called. Loving someone was traumatizing. You never knew what would happen to them out there in the world. Everything precious was also vulnerable.

  It wasn’t Celeste’s fault. What happened to Penny was nobody’s fault but Bobby’s. And one day when Penny could find the words, she’d tell her mom. Celeste might not say all the right things right away. She might say a bunch of wrong things in a row for a while, but they’d find a way to talk again. Penny had to give her a chance. She had to let Celeste in. That’s how it worked.

  Penny grabbed her phone and scrolled through the list of notes she’d made about her story.

  Mother and the Anima were connected and loved each other, but whereas the Anima couldn’t thrive unless she left Mother, Mother would be destroyed without her.

  Penny tapped out a few lines.

  Escape.

  It’s all I think about. I don’t know how I got the idea. Or when. I didn’t know that these flashes of information were even thoughts. Until I did. And that they belonged to me. It was my voice talking to my self except I didn’t have to make a sound. There was something else, too. Curiosity. I started wondering. I wanted more. Things I didn’t know and hadn’t seen or heard. I don’t want to stay here. I want to go. I love my home. The realms seem infinite, alive with possibility, but when Mother goes, everything goes dark with her. I want a world where everything lights up because I’m in it.

  The Anima didn’t want the human baby to die. She didn’t wish ill on the parents either. Or the PC bang or anyone else in that world. It’s that she didn’t believe that humans deserved to live more than she did. Than anyone else in the game. The Animas were second-class to the players and arguably to the humans. But it didn’t have to be that way. The humans were just visitors. Tourists at best. Colonists at worst. Penny thought about how certain physicists believed that reality is a simulation created by future civilizations purely for entertainment. There was no way to know who was running the show. To be the hero, you had to decide it was you.

  Penny typed furiously into her phone, and when a message came in she swiped it away before it broke her train of thought. When she was done she took a peek at her mom. Celeste’s eyes sprang open as if sensing her daughter was awake in the room.

  The text was from Sam.

  Penny texted him back.

  Hey

  He hit her back immediately.

  Hey

  What are you up to?

  My mom’s here

  napping

  Went to see Brandi Rose

  Penny couldn’t believe that after months of silence that Sam would visit.

  WHAT?

  Just drove over there

  WHOA

  How was it

  Not as bad as it could have been

  Where are you?

  At home

  Home as in home home or your room?

  Room

  And your mom’s there?

  Yeah she drove up

  We talked about it

  It’s cool now

  Good

  That makes me happy

  Wait

  Where are you?

  I’m outside

  Outside outside or outside my room?

  She leapt to her feet. Her mom cocked her head as if to say, “What’s up?”

  Penny could hear laughing outside her door.

  Who is that? Celeste mouthed at her daughter.

  Outside your room

  Penny’s brain went into DEFCON 1. She searched Celeste’s face helplessly.

  What to do when Sam, actual Sam, visits you in your room while Celeste is also present:

  1. Hoist Celeste out the window. She’s a resilient woman and you’re only two floors up.

  2. Send Sam away and spend more quality time with your mother who birthed you and had a horrible birthday. A birthday that you missed.

  3. Just go very silent and hope Sam will forget that you responded to any of this.

  Penny’s mouth was dry. She crept to the bathroom quietly to brush her teeth.

  “Mom,” she whispered over the foam. “It’s Sam.” Penny’s eyes felt spicy and bloodshot from the cry-nap.

  At that, Celeste did something so knowing and awesome that Penny suspected she did have a better handle on parenting than she’d ever given her credit for.

  Her mother’s eyes widened as she quietly gathered her cardigan, sunglasses, and purse.

  Penny smiled with the toothpaste foam dripping. “I love you,” she said. “I so owe you.”

  “You so do,” responded Celeste, heading for the door.

  The prospect of Celeste and Sam seeing each other again made Penny feel hopelessly awkward. Plus, she didn’t need Celeste to see anything revealing or odd if Sam was there to tell Penny something she absolutely didn’t want to hear. Penny’s phone continued to buzz.

  Should I come back?

  I’m sorry I can hear you freaking out in there

  I can come back

  “No!” she yelled. Penny spat into the sink, wiped her mouth, smoothed her hair, and cracked open the door.

  “Hi,” she said. Cheesing. “I look insane.”

  “Hi,” he said. “You look . . .” He took a step back to admire her. “Incredible.”

  Penny was smiling so forcefully her cheeks were about to cramp.

  Sam was standing in the hall wearing his usual goth ensemble. With his backpack. “Can I come in?”

  “Uh, yeah,” said Penny. “Hang on a second.” Celeste hugged her and made a big show of covering her eyes as she walked past Sam.

  “I’m not even here,” she said.

  “Hi, Celeste,” said Sam. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks,” she said, still facing away from them. “Take care of this one.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Penny watched her mother walk down the hall.

  “I love you!” Penny called out. Celeste waved over her shoulder without glancing back.

  “Okay, now hold on for an additional second,” Penny said, and shut the door. She whipped her head around quickly to make sure there wasn’t anything mortifying in plain sight. Like any Jude food remnants or econo-size boxes of tampons. Penny s
hoved Jude’s dirty socks into her shoes and kicked them under her bed. Then she opened the door all the way.

  “I see we employ the same interior decorator,” Sam said, surveying the barren premises.

  “Worth every cent,” Penny croaked. “Hi.” She cleared her throat.

  “Hi,” Sam said back.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked him.

  He smiled.

  “Everything doesn’t have to be a crisis, Penny,” he said. Penny wasn’t so sure.

  She wanted to sit on her bed, only she wasn’t sure if she could take him sitting on her bed with her if he was delivering bad news. So instead Penny stood in the middle of the room, like a normal human lady in a casual situation, and clenched her hands into fists. She could feel her heart in her palms.

  “I have something to tell you,” Sam said, standing uneasily in front of her.

  “Are you going somewhere?” she asked, nodding at the backpack. “Is it something to do with Brandi Rose?”

  “Dude,” he said, and laughed.

  Shit. Penny was fairly certain that when a guy called you “dude,” it was because he didn’t want to see you naked ever.

  “Have you ever called me ‘dude’ before?”

  Penny wasn’t sure why she was talking.

  “Wow,” he said. “Sometimes talking to you is like accidentally clicking on a pop-up with autoplay video.”

  Penny smiled weakly. “Sorry. Continue.”

  “I want to get through what I want to say and then it’ll be your turn,” said Sam. “Is that okay?”

  Penny nodded.

  “I don’t . . . ,” he said, and then stopped. “So I don’t think I want to be friends with you anymore. I want to kill the pact.”

  Penny blinked back tears, hoping that her eyelashes could dam the flow at least until she could kick him out. This was it, the moment they both knew would come. At least she did. It was the day Sam grew out of talking to her. It was how Christopher Robin didn’t need Winnie-the-Pooh when he became a grown-up. God, how she’d wept when she discovered the ending. Penny wondered if that’s what happened in Calvin & Hobbes too but couldn’t remember. Penny hated whenever you could see Hobbes as a doll since it killed the magic. God. Penny didn’t want to be friends with Sam either. It was too emotional.

  She took a deep breath.

  “Good,” said Penny. “Because I completely agree. We’re definitely getting too codependent, right? I mean, how much workshopping can we honestly do for each other? It’s not as if you need my mom drama on top of your mom drama. It’s way too taxing. For both of us. Especially since we have so much homework. Emotional homework. Oh, and real homework for me. I have so much of all the homeworks.”

  “You think we’re codependent?” Sam asked her. He frowned and ran his hands through his hair.

  Penny nodded. She thought about how she’d invited this. Invoked it. By summoning Sam out of her phone, she had hastened this evolution. They could have stayed in suspended animation forever if she hadn’t appeared in front of him so many times. Pried open the portal and insisted her body through. Penny gazed longingly at Sam’s skinny legs. His bony arms. Oh God, she loved everything.

  Whatever. Maybe this was good. This could be great for her story. Knowing about real heartbreak is useful. Maybe this was her inciting incident. Her saga would go on. She would persist. At least Penny had Jude and her mom and Mallory. God, was she at the point of counting Mallory as a good thing?

  Her brain was short-circuiting.

  Penny shook her head. To her horror, she was crying. “I’m not crying cause I’m sad,” she said angrily, swiping her tears.

  “Which is it, then? Are you hungry? Or real, real mad?”

  “I don’t know,” muttered Penny.

  “Um, okay,” he said. “I don’t know where you’re at or what you’re thinking, and I don’t know if there’s a configuration of words that if I get right will make you see me differently.”

  Sam wiped his hands on his jeans and continued.

  “I know I relied on you for an awful lot when we were basically strangers. It’s because I trusted you and I don’t trust a lot of people. I’m like you like that, real choosy with humans. I was going through a lot of change and you were my emergency contact through all of it, even when I didn’t have a lot to give back. And it can’t have been a picnic, you know?”

  Sam ran his fingers through his hair again and swallowed. “God,” he said. “I wish I could text you what I want to say.”

  Penny smiled tightly and braced herself.

  “I know I’ve been kind of a bum deal,” he continued.

  Penny willed him to shut up. Just not do whatever he was about to.

  “No, you haven’t,” she said. “You’ve been a real pal. I get a lot out of you. I trust you right back. You speak fluent me. I’ve got no complaints. I love . . . I like knowing that you exist. It doesn’t make me feel any less lonely, because life is lonely, but it makes me feel a lot less alone.”

  “Jesus,” he breathed. “I got you something.” He rummaged through his backpack and handed her a mug. Inside it was a teddy bear wearing sunglasses, and he was holding a handful of daisies.

  “What?”

  “Right?” said Sam hopefully.

  Penny started laughing. “Wow,” she said, turning it over. It immediately reminded her of Mark’s single red rose. She’d chucked it in the garbage on her drive back. It was clear, karma was a bitch and she was getting payback for the way she’d treated Mark. Sam was closing the loop.

  Sam laughed. “It’s the grossest one they had,” he said. “And guess what?”

  “What?” she asked him.

  “Later, I’m going to make you a mixtape.”

  “Wait.” Penny shook her head, still confused.

  Sam was smiling. Penny smiled stupidly back.

  “And then we are going to play miniature golf.”

  The car dealership windsock in her heart stirred and began swaying in the wind.

  “Or a hay ride, if you’d prefer . . .”

  Her heart was dancing now. Full-on spaz mode.

  “And then we’re going on a picnic and we’re going to make out the whole time,” he said. “If that’s what you want.” Sam cleared his throat.

  Penny took a half step closer to him and cleared her throat. She was so excited she wanted to punch him.

  “Yeah?”

  He took the mug, placed it on her desk, and reached for her hand.

  “Yeah,” he said. “And it’s going to be ridiculous.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

  Whoa. I can’t believe I get to write acknowledgments. It’s wild. Meow.

  Okay.

  The first person I want to thank is Sam. IRL Sam. My Sam, whose tattoos I stole and who I love so much it makes me weepy. You are my favorite EC.

  My family, for being rad and supportive even though I won’t hear the end of how I thanked Sam first. My brother, Mike, who won’t like being lumped in with my family. Yo, I’m SO glad we’re not lawyers.

  My agent, Edward Orloff, who tore through this and sold it at a time when I wasn’t even sure it was a book. You give such good note and I can’t wait for what’s next. I hope I make you rich someday. Also, lol, you were SO RIGHT about not calling it “crazies.”

  Zareen. I knew from jump that I wanted to work with you. Thank you for being singular in your reads and for speaking fluent me at all times. Our rants are so fortifying.

  Justin, Anne, Chrissy, Lisa, Alexa, Mekisha, and everyone at Simon & Schuster. Oh, and Lizzy and gg, for a cover that melts my face. That rose gold is so clutch. And the hair! Swoons.

  Marshall! You are my first reader. Always. And I yours. We are . . .

  Anne, Asa, Suze, Rose—your eagle eyes and perspective are so valuable. Thank you for suffering the unceremonious homework dumps.

  Jenna, for the walks, talks, teas, and the voice memos. So many vms that hold me down and keep my anxious brain from flying away.

&n
bsp; Trish, the keeper of my time capsule and the OG EC circa HK. Love you.

  Ubakum, Mira, Lara & Sophia, Ahmad—thanks for letting me hang out and for talking to me about how much space your phones take up in your lives. And Caitlin, for assigning the Wired piece that let me chill with teens in the first place.

  Books are so wild and I didn’t get to write one until I had so much support. In no particular order thank you to my editorial families for keeping me fed. Noah Callahan-Bever, Elliott Wilson, SHR, Vanessa Satten, Brian Scotto, Choire and Balk, Adam Rogers, Isabel Gonzalez, Sarah Van Boven, Ross Andersen, the Mass Appeal squad, Complex, XXL, The Awl, Wired, GQ, The Fader (the Zeichner years), Billboard, The New York Times, especially the Op Ed desk. And Missbehave, for breaking my back and my heart but giving me my voice.

  Dave Bry, who once told me it totally made sense that I wanted to write a book more than I wanted to have a kid.

  Eddie, I know you know that I know the role you play. I finally made the bet. FINALLY.

  Marc Gerald, for telling me to shut up and write YA already.

  Dana and Minya, for their calming energies and wisdom. Jenny Han, for putting up with my DMs.

  Vice News Tonight. Thanks for being nice to me despite my punk-ass writing schedule. Brendan Kennedy—you are the best when I am doing the most. IT IS TIME.

  La Croix in this order: pamplemousse, coconut, tangerine.

  And for all the people waiting for permission to level up enough before they start working on something big and scary—just go in. Don’t be like me.

  Finally, if you’re wondering if it counts and it feels like it counts, it counts.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  © AARON RICHTER

  MARY H. K. CHOI is a writer for the New York Times, GQ, Wired, and the Atlantic. She has written comics for Marvel and DC, as well as a collection of essays called Oh, Never Mind. She is the host of Hey, Cool Job!, a podcast about jobs, and is a culture correspondent for VICE News Tonight on HBO. Emergency Contact is her first novel. Mary grew up in Hong Kong and Texas and now lives in New York. Follow her on Twitter at @choitotheworld.

  Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers