31

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF NO PHONES

The next day at lunch, I found myself sitting between Tiffany and Amber—the two Elizettes.

I can safely say that was the first time that had ever happened.

Except for the day before.

It had been only two days, but what was happening was obvious. The people with no phones were starting to hang around together. And not only that, we were actually getting to know and like each another. At lunch, we made sure we all sat at one table.

“I think it’s so awesome that you’re in a band,” Tiffany said to me. “I’ve always wanted to play a musical instrument.”

“You don’t really have to play an instrument to be in a band,” said Becca, who was also sitting with us. “In fact, I barely do.”

“That’s not true,” I said.

“Um, yeah, it is,” Becca said.

Tiffany smiled a little sadly. “I don’t have any talent. I’m still waiting to discover what I’m talented at, but so far I haven’t figured it out.”

“That’s crazy,” I said. Tiffany laughed, a little embarrassed. I couldn’t believe it. Eliza, Tiffany, and Amber were on the very top rung of the middle school social ladder. They were as put-together and popular as it gets. It was amazing to hear that any one of them could be insecure about anything.

“Hey, let’s play a game,” Celia said. “Everyone say something about themselves that nobody else knows. I’ll go first.” She closed her eyes for a second then blurted out, “I want to have seven children. Four boys and three girls.” Then she stared right at her boyfriend, Phil Manning. His eyes popped out of his head.

“Wow,” said Phil.

“Awkward,” said Ricky.

“I’ll go next,” said Amber. “Every night before I go to bed I pray that when I wake up my pillows will be made of marshmallows.”

“Cool!” exclaimed Hannah. “Has it ever happened?”

“Not yet,” admitted Amber.

“Oh, darn,” said Hannah. “Call me when it does. I love marshmallows.”

Amber smiled brightly. “I totally will!”

I should point out here that this was probably the longest conversation Amber and Hannah had ever had with each other.

Eliza raised her hand. “I have something,” she said.

We all turned, waiting for her to continue.

“Sometimes I hate being super pretty.”

Everyone stared at her, not sure if she was kidding or not.

“I know you guys think I’m being a big bragger or obnoxious or something,” she said. “But I’m not. I’m being serious. I know I’m pretty. I can tell by the way everyone treats me and looks at me and how people want to hang around with me.”

Amber and Tiffany looked at each other, then at the ground.

“And it is awesome a lot of the time,” Eliza went on. “But not always. Sometimes it’s weird and uncomfortable and I know people make fun of me because they resent me and sometimes I wish I looked more like regular people.” Suddenly she looked right at me. “Like Katie.”

“Uh, that sounded like an insult,” I said. “Just sayin’.”

“I’m sorry! You know what I mean,” said Eliza. “You’re really cute. But you’re not so pretty that it’s the only thing people say or think about you. They think about how you’re smart, and funny, and nice, too. With me, people only think one thing. Beauty. And yeah, it’s a good thing, but I’m a lot more than that.”

Eliza stopped talking and took a few deep breaths, like talking that much had exhausted her. And maybe it had. I’d never heard her say so many words in a row in my life.

“I think you’re more than just pretty,” Jackie offered. “I’ve always thought you had a great sense of style.”

“Yeah,” added Celia. “I love your clothes. A lot.”

“Thanks, you guys,” Eliza said, but she didn’t seem all that cheered up.

“I don’t think that’s what she’s talking about,” Jake said. “Style, clothes—it’s all part of the same thing. Eliza’s saying she’s tired of being judged by her appearance. She wants other kids to look beneath the surface.”

“Yes!” Eliza said, staring at Jake as if seeing him for the first time. Which she was, in a way.

“I’ll be honest with you,” Becca said to Eliza. “I’ve never really liked looking beneath your surface. Because when I did, I saw a girl who just loved being the prettiest and didn’t mind letting other people know she loved being the prettiest.”

Everyone froze.

“What?” Becca said, defensively. “Isn’t this what this is all about? I bet everyone at this table has texted that very same thing about Eliza to somebody else. Because we’ve all thought it at some point or another. Well, guess what? Nobody has their phones now, and nobody has the chance to text behind anybody’s back, so I’m just trying to get in the spirit of honesty and open communication and all that.” She turned to Eliza. “I’m sorry. And you know what? The fact that you just said what you said makes me see you in a totally different way. I’m sorry I judged you.”

We all looked at Eliza, wondering how she’d react. The first thing she did was flip her hair—an unconscious move that she did all the time.

“No, you’re right,” she said to Becca. “Usually I do love that people think I’m super pretty. And I guess I can be obnoxious about it sometimes.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being proud of who you are,” Jake chimed in. “I love being the smartest, for example.”

Hannah elbowed him in the ribs. “Who says you’re the smartest?”

“You do,” Jake told her.

Hannah shrugged. “I was just trying to make you feel good.”

“Can we move on?” Ricky said. “Yay for Eliza and her feelings and all that, but we have a lot more people to get through if we’re going to hear one secret from everyone.”

Suddenly a huge burst of laughter came from down the row. We all looked up and saw Timmy, Charlie Joe, and Pete staring at one of their phones and cracking up.

“Must be the latest video of a cat riding a pig,” Jackie said.

“Yeah, give me a break,” Phil said. He stood up. “What are you guys watching? Let me guess—there’s poop involved.”

Everyone at our table cracked up, including me.

Charlie Joe looked up. Then he elbowed Pete and Timmy and they looked up, too.

“Are you guys getting in touch with your feelings?” Charlie Joe yelled over at us.

“Yeah, are you?” Pete echoed, not very imaginatively.

I stood up. “We’re just having a normal conversation, Charlie Joe,” I said.

“It’s called ‘communicating without being snarky or mean,’” Hannah added. “You should try it some time.”

Charlie Joe turned red. He’d had a massive crush on Hannah pretty much forever, and the fact that she had just talked snarkily to him was devastating. Or, it would have been devastating, if it had been anyone other than Charlie Joe Jackson.

“I get it,” he said, making a quick recovery. “You guys think you’re superior, because you’re not using your phones for a whole week. Well, whoop-dee-doo for you.”

“Yeah, whoop-dee-do,” Timmy said, who apparently was just as original as Pete.

“That’s not true. We don’t think we’re better than anyone,” I said, but I wasn’t sure I believed myself. Charlie Joe was right: It had only been a couple of days, but those of us without phones were starting to form a little club, and people who still had their phones weren’t really invited.

“You’re too good to sit with us,” Timmy said. “We get it.”

“Timmy,” Phil said, then stopped. Phil did that a lot—said the first word of a sentence, then stopped. If anyone else did it, kids would get annoyed, but since Phil looked more like a high school football player than any other kid in middle school, we all just learned to patiently wait for him to say whatever it was he was going to say next.

“Yeah?” Timmy said, eventually.

Phil thought for another minute. “The point is that you’re here talking to us about this face-to-face,” he said. “Ordinarily you would be texting us these insults. This is a big improvement. I’m glad you are enough of a man to talk honestly.”

Pete elbowed Timmy, “Hey, you’re a man!”

“Cool,” Timmy answered.

“Congratulations,” said Becca.

It seemed like everyone was going to be friends with each other again, but then Charlie Joe got out his phone and punched a few keys.

“Hey, look!” he exclaimed. “Plain Jane just announced their new contest!”

Timmy and Pete immediately checked their own phones.

“Huh?” Timmy said.

Charlie Joe showed them his phone. “Free tickets to their next concert for anyone named Katie Friedman! Text I LOVE CELL PHONES to claim your prize!”

They all starting convulsing with laughter.

“Ha-ha-ha,” I said, scowling at him.

“Charlie Joe, stop being so annoying,” Eliza said. “Please take your phony phone-using self back to your phony phone-using table.”

That cracked Ricky up. “Yeah, phonies!” he said. “Go phone somewhere else!”

Everyone laughed and repeated the word phonies. All of a sudden we had a new nickname for the phone-users of the world.

“If we’re phonies,” Charlie Joe said, “then you’re cavemen. You’re living in prehistoric times.”

“Yeah, you’re cavemen,” Pete said. “You should probably leave now so you can start hunting for dinner.” Then he laughed way too loudly at his own joke.

“Okay, enough you guys,” I said. “Charlie Joe, let’s not turn this into a big thing. You’re obviously entitled to your phones and your texting and whatever, just like we’re entitled to sit at lunch and have interesting conversations.”

Charlie Joe raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying people with phones don’t have interesting conversations?”

I sighed. “I’m saying when everyone is staring down at the little device in their hands, there’s not a lot of connecting going on. Like right now. We’re disagreeing, we’re getting on each other’s nerves, but at least we’re connecting. Right? That’s what this week is all about.” I paused, because I wasn’t sure I should say what I was about to say. But then I said it anyway. “If it’s too intense for you, that’s fine. You can go back to your cat videos and Instagrams and Snapchats. What we’re doing isn’t for everyone. I get it.”

Charlie Joe stopped smiling at that moment, and looked at me for a minute like he didn’t know who I was. “Wow, Katie. I never thought I’d see the day when you would actually say out loud that you thought you were better than me.”

“I’m not saying I’m better than you,” I said. “Different, that’s all.”

Charlie Joe shook his head slowly. The fun and games were over.

“Let’s go, you guys,” he said. “The cavemen are too good for us. Let’s go back to the twenty-first century where we belong.”

“Yeah,” Timmy said.

“Let’s,” Pete said.

As we watched them walk away, Ricky muttered, “See ya later, phonies.”

“Phonies!” Tiffany squealed, laughing. “What a hilarious nickname.”

As everyone got busy congratulating one another for being so clever, I kept watching Charlie Joe. He was staring down at his phone, but I’m not sure he was reading anything. I felt bad. I felt good. I felt guilty. I felt proud. I felt happy. I felt sad. And I felt right.

Communicating is complicated.