SPEAKER_00 1:05

Chapter 2 I slam the door to my bedroom so my dad doesn't come looking and go straight to my laptop flipping its bright pink cover up with a snap. He is not the only one in this place with computer skills. Another siren screams outside my window, and I think back to the panicky wave I heard when I woke up. The tingle starts up again, and it this time it's at the back of my neck. Did something happen in the city? Is that why he's being so weird? I peer outside as I wait for my computer to start up, searching the streets and rooftops for scary things. One roof over, a group of people stares down at the street, one guy even using binoculars, almost like they're expecting a parade, but everything else looks mostly the same. Hot, sure, with that thick, shimmery air that means it's gonna be a very sweaty day. But it's summer. That's what happens in summer. A thud on my door startles me, and my heart keeps pounding for a moment, thinking my dad has decided he has more to say. But when an annoyed bark accompanies the second thump, I chuckle and hurry to open it. Poor Peev, I promised him a day outside. He's probably been sitting next to the door where we could keep his leash this whole time. Hey buddy, I'm sorry. Change of plans, I guess. I scruff his ears and scratch his head. He leans into the scratch, then pulls back and looks at me like I've forgotten something. What? I say. Peef barks. I hear you. I'm disappointed too. I pat his head one last time, then sit in front of my computer and try to remember everything my dad said. I search for changes in the world and find all kinds of links about massive climate change, virus, fires, war, politics, social media, and cybersecurity. AI. Since we started our new normal after the coronavirus, none of this stuff has been a hot topic for my dad. I try problems in New York City, and then recent problems in NYC. Headline after headline pops up about the heat wave, and then water. Water shortage, water crisis, the price of produce, and the city's aging water delivery and sewage system. More on climate change, causing the heat wave, and again water. Since I was a kid, it's true, the world has changed. All because of this heat wave's making the water crisis even worse. I pause. Why is none of this stuff important to my dad? I flop back in my desk chair, frustrated. Everything has shifted since I was a kid. That's true. But why does he think I need a bodyguard to go to Jasper's house? For crying out loud. I've been walking peeve on my own since I was eleven. And a water crisis doesn't make a city unsafe. Or does it? It just doesn't make sense for him to start worrying now. My brain flashes me a glimpse of that symbol on his computer, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember all the details. I know I saw a volcano, but the rest is fuzzy. A teardrop? Is someone sad about a volcano? Or maybe it was a waterfall? Like a glass wall behind his desk? Could it be a resort? Is he planning a vacation? When I search for waterfall volcano, I mostly find pictures of lava pouring into the ocean. And when I try crying volcano, I just find articles and videos about the creepy screaming noises volcanoes make when they're erupting. An irritating groan slips out, and Peev lifts his head to study me. It's okay, boy, just not finding what I need. He snorts and lowers his chin to his crossed paws, which makes me smile. Even when I'm stuck in my room or my dad's too busy for me, I always have my best friend Peev. He will never leave my side. I know that for sure. As I look at him, a small flame ignites. My dad said to think about what really matters, and I realize that one doesn't need that much thought. This whole day was supposed to be about what matters. I reach for my phone. Hey Jasper. Hey, where are you, Coral? We're leaving for the garden soon. His voice squeaks a little on the last word. It's been doing that a lot lately. I sigh. There's a complication. Your dad? Who else? I flop down on my bed, frustrated, but grateful that Jasper pays attention and I don't have to explain. He's being extra weird though. Weird how? Honestly, kind of paranoid. He made it sound like it's dangerous in your neighborhood, and said he has to protect me. There's a long silence on the other end. Seriously, Jasper said. Has he ever been to my neighborhood? A hot wave of shame passes over me. I know it doesn't really belong to me, but it still burns. I'm so sorry. He's clueless about a lot of things. Yeah, well, it's not your fault. I sit up full of a new plan. You know what? We had important plans today, and it's not right for him to stop them. Give me some time to slip out of here and I'll be right over. Sneaking out seems like a really bad idea, Coral. Especially if he's all worked up about something, Jasper says, the squeak returning. But it's not fair, I murmur. He's being ridiculous. I just don't want you to get in trouble. He probably won't even notice I'm gone. But what if he does? I reach for Peev's head and the soft ploppiness of his ears makes me feel better. You're right, I say in a long huff. We'll try again another day, Jasper tells me. Though I can tell he's not so sure. Yes, we will. I'm not gonna live my whole life in this bedroom because my dad's gotten really paranoid. Let's just hope that's all it is. I hear a sound in the background, then a muffled response from Jasper. I have to go quarrel, my mom's ready to leave. You okay? I chew my lip and try to suck it up. Yeah, definitely. You guys have a great time. Tell your mom I wish I could be there. Okay, and I hope your dad chills out. Yeah, me too, I tell him, then snuffle back the tears until I'm sure he's gone. It's dumb to be crying, I know, but suddenly my brain is full of pictures. Jasper and his mom laughing and getting their hands dirty as they plant and gather vegetables, my dad walking me around the apartment when I was still small enough to stand on his feet, my mom giggling at the two of us and then sweeping in to join the dance. Before I knew it, I'm sobbing full on over Peev's comforting ears. He whimpers a little and licks my face, and it helps, but the empty place inside me just keeps struggling. Usually I can tell myself something that makes it okay for my mom to have left us. Even if part of me always knows it's just an excuse. Today though, I have nothing. Nothing but a wish, tiny and tender as a flower bud, for my mom to sweep in and gather me up just one more time. I want to remember what she smells like. I want to see my own hands in the shape of hers. I want to see that smile that made me the center of the universe. Mostly I just want to belong to someone or even something. I want to be pulled close instead of sent away, and I want to change whatever I have to change to get me there.