I decided to tackle the hard stuff first: getting Zoe and Oscar to do the two things their mom had requested. “Zoe, go get your math homework.” She wandered out of the kitchen, recorder still bleating, and came back with her polka-dotted backpack.
“Math is easier when you’re not playing an instrument,” I suggested, and she put the recorder down. Thank goodness. There’s only so much “Hot Cross Buns” a person can take. At least, I think that’s what she was practicing.
“I need a calculator. Can I use your phone?”
“Sure.” I wasn’t sure if she was supposed to use a calculator for the worksheet, but I didn’t think it could hurt. I sent a quick text to Neha.
What’s up? How’s the game?
Then I handed over my phone, and Zoe got to work.
On to Oscar. “It’s time to clean Jupiter’s cage, buddy.”
“Nooooooooo!” Oscar jumped from the arm of the sofa to the cushions, grabbing at his chest like he’d been wounded. “It’s so stinky.”
He wasn’t lying. When I walked over to the corner of the living room where Jupiter lived, my nose was hit by the unmistakable combination of musty wood shavings and guinea pig pee. Good thing Jupiter was ridiculously cute. Most guinea pigs I’d seen had short fur, but Jupiter’s was more like thick, glossy locks of hair that fell to his tiny paws. It was so long you could braid it. Zoe and Oscar had done that before. There were pictures of it on the fridge.
When I stood next to the cage, Jupiter started jumping around and making little squeak-whoop noises. “You’re excited to get a clean cage, aren’t you?” Except I didn’t know how they cleaned it. With soap and water? A vacuum?
“Zoe, how does your mom clean Jupiter’s cage?” From the kitchen table, she shrugged. “Oscar, do you know?”
He had hopped off the couch and joined me. “She uses one of the sprays under the kitchen sink.” He reached in and gently pulled out Jupiter, cuddling him in his arms and cooing at him. Jupiter made a contented noise, almost like purring.
While Oscar held him, I went into the kitchen and checked under the sink. All I saw was blue glass cleaner, and that didn’t seem like what you’d clean a cage with. Maybe they’re out. Better not use the wrong stuff. So I put on some rubber gloves and carried the trash can over to the cage. I grabbed as much of the gross used shavings as I could and dumped them into the trash, then covered the cage floor with fresh stuff. It looked, and smelled, cleaner at least.
“Good enough,” I pronounced.
“Yay! I get a checkmark on the calendar,” Oscar said happily, nuzzling Jupiter with his cheek.
“No, all you did was hold Jups!” Zoe cried from the kitchen table.
“Actually, I think you’re going to have to clean the cage for real later on. When your mom’s home.” After I put the trash can back, peeled off the gloves, and washed my hands, I checked on Zoe. “How’s the math?”
“All done,” she said, but she was still hunched over my phone. It was making the camera-snap noise.
“Zoe, what are you doing with my phone?”
“Nothing!” She sat upright, and I snatched it back. My photo album was now full of pictures of Zoe’s nose. Along with video: slow motion of her sticking out her tongue and wiggling it.
“Please tell me you didn’t post any of these?” The last thing I needed was everybody at school seeing close-ups of nostrils and assuming they were mine.
“I didn’t?” The question in her voice suggested the opposite. I sighed, opening all my apps to check my latest posts. So far, babysitting felt like one long, continuous sigh.
But everything looked okay—no bizarre posts from Zoe-Me. Also, no texts from Neha. The game was probably running long. I sent another.
I have an amazing idea for our Earth Day project
Text me when ur done so I can tell you!
I thought back to Andrea’s instructions. Zoe’s homework: check, thanks to my phone’s help. Oscar’s cage cleaning: check-ish, thanks to me. No more screen time and maybe play a game: up next. “Hey, how do you guys feel about going outside?” I glanced through the big picture window in the living room, above Jupiter’s less-stinky cage. While most of their property was dense with evergreens and bushes, they did have a large backyard. Spread throughout the open grass was Andrea’s veggie garden; a small fish pond that the previous owner had put in; a firepit; and a redwood swing set with two swings, a platform, slide, and rusted monkey bars. It looked almost exactly like the one Neha used to have in her backyard before the Jains landscaped it and Neha begged for a soccer goal. I smiled, thinking of the hours we’d spent on hers, swinging and climbing and laughing. Before she became the star of the Pelling Pirates, that was our pirate ship. I missed playing like that, sometimes. There was nothing like the feeling of lying back on the grass, letting the blue—or cloud-covered (after all, we live in the Pacific Northwest)—sky overhead help you to catch your breath. Now when we hang out, Neha and I spend almost all our time on laptops or phones. It makes you tired in a different way.
“Nah,” said Zoe. She’d joined Oscar on the couch. He was back to scrolling through his video game options, and she’d picked up a tablet and was questing for candy on an app. I sank down in the love seat across from them. Suddenly, I was exhausted. Kids wear you out.
“Guys, your mom said you were out of screen time.” I tried to sound firm. But my phone had finally buzzed with a text.
“If Oscar puts on his headphones, Mom doesn’t care if he keeps playing,” Zoe said. Oscar obediently grabbed the pair from the coffee table and put them over his ears.
“Okay, but only for a minute—then we’re going outside,” I murmured, as I swiped to check my messages. Now I had a bunch from Neha.
Hey! We WON!!!!!
I got a goal :) And Marley made an awesome save
Anyway she had this idea to do water-quality testing at the pebble beach by the ferry
Maybe you could work with us?
I slumped deeper into the love seat.
Maybe I could work with them? So she was definitely working with Marley and had ignored me in all this planning. I felt my heartbeat hasten, and my stomach knotted.
I thought we were doing the project together
And why wouldn’t I? We did everything together. Or, at least, we had. We were a perfect pair. Even our names were coordinated: Hannah, Neha.
Dude we can still work together!
with Marley
It’s NBD
Actually it kind of is
My fingers had started typing without the consent of my brain.
For the longest time, Neha’s side of our conversation showed three “still typing” dots. I glanced up to check on Zoe and Oscar. Both were totally absorbed in their games. Once, the Pelling community center had hosted a “silent dance party” where everybody danced while listening to music with their own headphones on. So it was a party, but totally quiet. The three of us, sitting in the living room but not playing together at all, glued to our respective devices, reminded me of that. Then, finally, Neha’s reply buzzed through.
What is ur problem lately?!
I broke the silence with a huff. Zoe and Oscar didn’t stir.
My problem?!
I dunno
Maybe the fact that all you’re interested in now is Marley
And soccer
Soccer and Marley
Ur being ridiculous
It’s not my fault you can’t play
And it wasn’t mine either. The blame belonged to my lungs. My phone buzzed angrily.
You need to check your jealousy
LOL I’m not jealous!
I’m
I sent that accidentally, before I could think of what exactly I was feeling. Left out? How could I explain that to Neha without sounding needy or clingy?
Marley is super nice
You’d know if you would actually like talk to her
That stung. It isn’t easy to jump into conversations full of inside jokes and game recaps.
Whatever
She’s not my friend
I knew I sounded sulky. And I’d always been friendly with Marley, even if I didn’t know her well. I just had all these feelings, bubbling up inside, and I was too overloaded to control what I was typing.
Three dots again from Neha. And then:
Srsly Hannah?
Right now I don’t even want to be ur friend anymore.
She even used a period. As soon as I read it, Jupiter started to squeak. The timing was uncanny, like he was paying attention to our text drama and wanted to weigh in. I glanced over at his cage. He was whooping while he ran in circles, making small hops.
Neha’s last text was slowly sinking in. I blinked to prevent tears. Somewhere deep inside I knew I wasn’t being very fair. But she wasn’t being fair to me either. I couldn’t think straight with all the squeaking. I turned to Zoe. “Is Jupiter okay?”
I waved a hand until she came out of her tablet trance. “He’s never done that before, at least not when we aren’t by his cage with treats.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a commotion outside. Birds scattered out of the trees in the Matlocks’ backyard, cawing and soaring up high into the sky. The scene kept me distracted from the words on my screen for a few seconds longer. My phone buzzed again, reminding me I had gotten a message. An awful one.
I replied in kind.
I don’t want to be ur friend either.
The jolt was so strange, and sudden, that at first, I thought only I had experienced it. Like it was some kind of physical symptom of how I felt about Neha’s texts—and my replies. People always describe bad news as a “punch to the gut” or being “shaken to their core.” It was like that. A jerk, a thud, a jolt—something had just shifted, or broken, in our best friendship, and I felt it inside and out. Neha and I had never said words like that to each other before. I didn’t even know we could. It was a tectonic moment in our friendship.
“What was that?” Zoe’s eyes lifted again from her tablet, and they were wide with alarm. On the other side of the couch, Oscar sat up straight and pulled off his headphones.
“I woke up a huge dragon, and I actually felt its roar!”
The jolt wasn’t only mine. Even though my phone was practically burning in my palm, I focused on the room around me. I held my breath, looking and listening. Everything seemed fine…
Then the shaking started.