Bubbles

Chapter 3

Penny

I wake up, and stretch like a cat. My bones crack.
"Penny, it's half eight, love. You've got to get up now."
Dad's voice mumbles away in the background, and I hear the curtains opening.
School time.

"Oh God, what is she wearing?" Greg pats my knee under the desk, and nods his head in the direction of the class door.
Alice slips into Art, late as always. No one knows where she goes at lunch time or what she does.
I wonder about it.
"What's wrong with her clothes?" I glare at him. I like the fact she has a tie-dye shirt with ripped jeans and a leather jacket. The colours may not blend that well but it makes her look brighter. Brightness is key, in this dark world. My dresses are all pretty colours, and I keep my shoes white because the pavements are grey. Grey saps your energy, and it makes you sad.
"She looks..." He catches a glimpse of my face. "Nothing. Never mind."
Alice ends up sitting next to me, in the only available place. She digs a metal watercolour paint case out of her bag, and places it on the table. She frowns at me watching her.
"Problem, Blondie?"
I open my mouth to respond, but Greg is already there. "The only problem is your fucking crazy outfit."
He snorts, and flicks a paintbrush at her. It bounces off her chin and rolls onto the floor.
I'm about to tell her that I like her outfit, but she's gone. The door slams and the teacher sighs, reaching for the phone.
I twist away from Greg. "That was mean. Just because you don't like how she dresses doesn't mean everyone else-"
"Shut up, Pen. I know. I'm sorry. She just thinks she can do whatever she wants, and it pisses me off."
That's weird. Anyone can do whatever they want.
I want to blow some bubbles.

I'm sending a text to Lucy.
17:34 Message sent: 'Hi. It's Penny (or Pen).'
17:38 Message received: 'Hey, Penny. It's Lucy (or Luce).'
17:38 Message sent: 'Can I get a ride?'
17:40 Message received: 'Where are you?'
17:41 Message sent: 'The beach.'
I put my phone away and wait for her. I don't know how far away she is, but I don't care. I can wait for hours. I used to have to do that when I was little, and Mum was at work. We didn't know where Dad was, but that doesn't matter because he's back now.
I blow bubbles, and watch them fly.
You're not supposed to talk to strangers, I remember. Oh well. I've never been on a motorbike.
Some kids are sitting in the sand a little way away from me, and they watch the bubbles too.
I walk closer to the rippling waves, kicking off my shoes as I go. The water curls around my toes, cold despite the sun.
My dress flutters in the breeze, my hair drifting across my face.
The beach always felt so free, so open. It makes me happy, and the bubbles like it too. The light gets to spread across the rusty sand evenly, glinting off the sea and brightening the shells. It's fair. The clouds don't come here.
The spluttering, echoing tune of a motorcycle skitters across the beach.
I don't turn, I just wait for her.
I look down at the bubbling froth of the waves as they raise up to my heels.
There's a grip on my forearm.
"Hey, miss, can I have your bubbles?" A small redheaded boy is leaning against my right leg.
"Sure, I'll get some more later." I press the sticky bottle into his little palm, and he scampers off.
I sense someone behind me.
"That's cute," Lucy says. "Generosity."
I turn around, and take a moment to comprehend her. She's wearing a loose shirt and shorts.
She has tanned legs.
"Once you've finished checking me out, do you want to head off?" She laughs, and I blush.
"I'm not 'checking you out'. I'm not allowed to. And give me a minute, I want to swim."
I charge away from her, deeper into the water. She's close behind me.
"Wait, stay there," I give her my phone. "Don't break it."
And then I'm off, into the sea. My dress is stuck to me and the tips of my hair are getting wet.
I can smell the salt, and still hear her giggling. The waves are soaking into my waist now, and the sand below is sticking to my feet.
I forget for a while.

"You're drenched, Penny."
"I know. The sun will dry me, don't worry."
I tug my shoes on, feeling the grit rub uncomfortably against my skin.
"It better. You're not getting my bike all wet." Lucy smirks, narrowing her eyes in the glare of the light. "Have you had dinner yet?"
"No. I don't usually bother with dinner, unless Dad insists." I think of having food in my stomach overnight, leaving it to spread calories through my body. Infectious.
"You what? I'm gonna get you some food." She hooks my arm with hers, and we walk side by side. Her hip bumps mine occasionally.
"Don't let it make me fat, Lucy." I stop abruptly.
"Hey, you're not fat anyway. You... you have a nice body. And you walk a lot, right? Who says you need to lose weight?" She continues walking, steering me towards a takeaway.
"Mum. I've always been fat, Lucy. Can't you see it? My arms, my legs... I have to fit my dresses. Mum says." I wrinkle my nose, confused as to why she doesn't understand.
She's about to say something, but I decide to change the topic.
"You asked me why I was out at 2am - I was just walking. Everyone walks. What were you doing?"
It's her turn to scrunch up her face. "My girlfriend was being difficult."
"Your girlfriend?" I bite my lip.
"Yeah."
"My mum won't let me like girls." I clench my fists, remembering. "She says it's wrong. She called me a pervert. But I like bubbles more than girls, and guys don't bother me. Except Greg, he's mean to Alice. I don't know where Alice goes at lunch time, no one does. She's always late after, though."
Lucy looks thoughtful, and then irritated.
"What's up with your mother, anyway? That's not wrong, Penny. It's how you were born. You can't help it. She loves your dad, she can't help that. She's not a pervert for that. So what makes you a pervert?"
I bite my lip again. "I don't think she loves Dad. She shouts at him."
She bites her lip too, and gives me a sympathetic look.
We've reached the takeaway.
"You can share some chips with me, okay? And you won't get fat, I promise." Lucy's position shifts, so our arms are not locked but our hands are instead. She pulls me gently in the direction of the door.
I'll just trust her.