Bubbles

Chapter 7

Penny

There are some big differences between Greg and Lucy:
-Lucy doesn't insult people based on their clothing
-Lucy doesn't make fun of what I'm scared of
-Lucy likes bubbles
-I like the feeling of her body against mine.
I like being on her motorcycle, watching the city rush past and feeling her breathing. It reassures me that she's alive. It's weird because the bubbles are sad, and Greg would be sad if he knew. But it seems to make Lucy angry.
I don't know who to believe, but I like her eyes. Her eyes tell me that she's honest.
Greg's eyes are dark.
My brother had dark eyes. Mum never talks about him, but Dad said it was because he took heroin.
I wonder if Lucy has bubbles at her house.

"Finally bringing her home, are you?" A tall man with curly brown hair answers her door, on the third floor of the building.
"Shut up, Mick. Oh, Penny, this is that loser I was telling you about." Lucy smirks as she leads me further into the apartment.
"It's late, Luce. You made me get out of bed. Well, true, I wasn't sleeping..." He chuckles, and I don't get it.
I stare at him, trying to read his eyes. They don't give much away, but I like the fact that his face is clean-shaven.
I like where she lives. The walls are white, and the furniture is sparse. I get the feeling it's meant to be like that, though.
"Would you like anything, Penny? A drink, or something?" Lucy dumps her helmet on the sofa and runs her hand through her hair.
I consider. I won't eat, but I am quite thirsty. "Do you have any tea?"
"Classy." Mickey mutters. He shuffles up to Lucy and whispers something.
Her cheeks flare red and she elbows his side. "Fuck off already, you perv!"
I'm confused.
I think of something majorly important.
"Do you guys have any bubbles?"

I'm waking up somewhere I don't recognise and I'm panicking.
I don't smell the bleach from mum's cleaning or the smoke from Dad's cigarettes.
I really start to freak when I can't smell the soap from my bubbles.
That's when I realise I'm at Lucy's house, curled up in her living room. Sunlight is blaring through the blinds. I can hear the kettle boiling in the next room.
I sit up.
I pull my dress down from where it's rumpled to.
I cross my legs and bite my lip, waiting for someone to tell me what to do. I notice a bruise on my upper arm, and poke it thoughtfully. It hurts. I stop poking it.
The TV is buzzing static in the corner of the room. I stand up and look for the ariel, desperate to resuscitate it.
I find the ariel perched on a chest of drawers, with the cable trailing lifelessly in the direction of the screen.
I follow the cable, and find the source of the problem; it's not plugged in. I fix it in securely, and smile when the morning news crackles on.
"Thanks, Penny."
I turn to find Lucy leaning in the doorway, watching me with an amused look. Mickey is a few steps behind her, clutching a steaming mug. He dodges past and thumps down onto the sofa, narrowly avoiding spilling the drink.
His eyes try to focus on the screen behind me. "Hey, could you shift your cute ass? I fancy getting depressed with the state of today's society."
"'Cute ass'!" Lucy squeaks, impersonating him. "Mick, can you stop with the whole 'I'm so badass' thing? You help old ladies with their fucking shopping."
"Do you want me to come over there and show you my badassery? Need I remind you how exceptionally fit I am?" He flexes an arm.
She snorts. "I beat you in fights."
I shift from the screen, and lean against the drawers instead.
"Only because you're small as fuck. I can hardly see you! My fist is bigger than your head, cupcake." He laughs.
Lucy looks extremely offended at this, and I can't help but giggle.
She glares at me but the side of her mouth twitches. She shakes her head, dismissing him.
"Come here, Penny." Her hand is stretched out.
I cross the room and grasp it. Mickey has a triumphant smirk on his face.
"Don't use my bed!" He calls as we leave the room. Again, I don't get it.
Lucy drops my hand like I've caught fire and turns her face away.
"What does that mean?" I stumble over something as I follow her into the kitchen.
Something fuzzy and chubby. There's a pained yowl beneath me.
I gasp, and bend to envelope the fluffy creature in my arms.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" I kiss its head, and it goes from hissing to purring.
"That's my cat, Beanie. He's acting odd - usually he hates cuddles!" Lucy laughs softly, and comes over to scratch his ear.
"Our cat!" Mickey yells.
Lucy slams the door.
Suddenly I realise something, and dig frantically through my head for an answer.
I can't find one.
"What day is it?"
Lucy is bending over to get something from the freezer.
I watch her body, forgetting the cat.
She stands up and I look away quickly. "It's Saturday. Are you still in school? How old are you?"
She looks worried, like she's only just realising something.
I breathe out, thankful I haven't missed school. "Yeah. I'm 17."
Her brow creases.
"Why, how old are you?" I ask, thinking she surely couldn't be above 25.
Lucy places something on the counter, deliberating. "21."
"Aw, you have four more years than me..." I think of all the extra time she's had to blow bubbles and drink tea.
She shrugs. "Does it bother you?"
"No. Does it bother you?"
"I guess not."