This Place Has No Atmosphere (3 page)

“I’ll lend you the money,” Juna says. “Don’t worry about when you can pay it back.”

“But I already owe you for the T-shirt that I bought last week.” I remember that T-shirt and think about how I don’t even like it anymore.

“Don’t worry so much.” Juna smiles. “You’re my best friend. What are best friends for?”

I look at the disks and think about the fight my mother and I had this morning. She said that I couldn’t have a bigger allowance until my attitude showed some improvement and that I had to have a
curfew on school nights. When I tried to explain that “everyone else is allowed to stay out late,” she said, “You’re not everyone else.”

It makes me so angry that I can’t even deal with it.

I decide to buy the disks to make myself happy.

Borrowing the money from Juna, I say, “Don’t worry. I’ll pay you back soon. My grandmother will give it to me.”

I’m almost sure that’s positively true, but even if she doesn’t give me the money, I’ll be really nice to my parents and they’ll give me an advance. Sneaky, but it usually works.

We leave the store and get back on the moving sidewalk. Juna says, “Let’s look at that store window,” and we step off again.

The live models in the window are wearing new “mood clothes,” made up of fabrics that change color according to how the wearer feels and what the wearer is doing.

Some other kids from school are also looking in the window.

One is Brandonetta Simmons, who is wearing Walkperson earrings, tuned to a frequency that only she can hear. I don’t think there’s been more than a
year of her life when she wasn’t wired for music. It’s very hard to hold a conversation with her, since she sings her replies.

“Look there,” Juna whispers and points. “Ralph Norton. Yecch.”

Juna and Ralph have not done well together since seventh grade, when our science teacher mentioned the big bang theory and Ralph made a comment about Juna’s parents.

He spots us and comes over.

“Hi, Aurora.”

I nod and look at the mood clothes.

“Hello, Space Cadet.” He looks at Juna. “I’m surprised that someone doesn’t put you on a space ship until your hair gets back to normal. Isn’t there a law against eye pollution?”

Juna glares at him. “Why don’t you go away before I throw up on your slimy body?”

Ralph turns to me and says, “She really loves me. You know that, don’t you? Throwing up is not what she really wants to use my body for.”

As he walks away, I look at Juna.

She’s blushing, really blushing. Actually, the pink of her skin goes well with the colors of her hair.

I start to giggle.

“It’s not funny.” She pretends to stick her finger down her throat. “He’s so awful.”

I nod.

“Look, I’m going to go hang out at the soda kiosk. I’ve made a list of all of Randy’s hangouts and that’s one of them. Want to come with me?”

I shake my head. “No, thanks. I’ll stay here and watch the clothes change color for a while, unless you think you’ll need protection from Norton.”

“No. I’ll be okay. He’s a creepster, but harmless.” She grins. “I can take care of myself.”

After she leaves, I look at the dancing models.

Their mood clothes are like rainbows, except for one gray tunic that never changes. The model is obviously not having a great day.

I feel someone’s hand on my shoulder and turn around.

It’s Matthew. “Hi, Aurora. Want to go for an ice cream or something?”

I nod.

I’m glad that I’m not wearing mood clothes right now.

I’m not sure what color “nervous” would be.

T
he counterman wipes his hands on a towel. “What flavor do you kids want?”

“It’s hard to decide.” I look at the huge list of flavors and toppings. “I guess I’ll have a scoop of vanilla with sprinkles.”

“Boring,” Matthew says.

I pretend to pull a knife out of my heart. “Boring? Well, excuse me.”

Matthew gives his order: banana, rocky road,
cherry cheesecake, and praline ice cream—mixed with M&M’s and Oreos with nuts on top.

The counterman punches the choices into the computer in front of him, and the combination comes out of the machine and into a cup.

We pay and walk over to a table.

On the way, I see our reflections in a mirror.

I do like the way we look together.

Sitting down, he takes a spoonful of ice cream.

It’s hard to feel shy when the person you’re nervous around has accidentally put a smudge of Oreo on his nose.

I reach over and remove the gunk from his face with my napkin.

He smiles. “Thanks. When I was a little kid, I always had a milk mustache on my face.”

I nod. “Me too. My mother used to say I looked good in the food I wore—especially linguini with red clam sauce.”

We eat our ice cream silently for a few minutes, then I start to giggle.

Matthew looks at me questioningly.

I giggle more. Once I get started, it’s hard to stop, but I try to, since I don’t want him to think I’m
laughing at him. “With all the flavors at this place, I started to think about what would happen if they ran out of names. Then I thought of lizard lemon and fingernail fudge.”

“Yecch.” Matthew laughs. “How about toejam tofu.”

“Nicotine nectarine.”

By the time we quit, we’ve added owl pellet peach, mucous mocha, snot sundae, phlegm frappe, and cow-chip chip to the list.

It’s so disgusting that I can’t finish my vanilla with sprinkles.

Matthew finishes mine and then says, “Aurora, I want to know two things. First of all, you don’t go out with Joandrew anymore, do you?”

I shake my head. Joandrew and I broke up over the summer when he started hanging out with a group of dopers. They were really pond scum. He changed so much. I tried to help him see how awful that drug scene was, how he was frizzling his brains, but he wouldn’t listen. After staying up every night crying and worrying, I finally told him that he had to make a choice—me or drugs. He made the choice. I’ve heard that he’s had to go into a drug rehab
program. I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to have anything to do with him anymore.

“No, I don’t,” I say to Matthew.

“Good.” He smiles at me. “My second question, then, is, Want to go to the homecoming dance with me?”

The homecoming dance, “Evening on Jupiter.” All the announcements say it will be “absolutely out of this world.” I’ve been hoping that Matthew would ask me to it. He really is the nicest boy I know.

“Yes. I would love to go with you.” I’m so happy.

“They’ll have announced the election results that afternoon. I’ll know if I’ve won or lost.”

“Either way”—I touch his hand—“I’ll be very happy to be with you.”

He reaches over and holds my hand. “I’m glad. I’ve liked you since second grade, when you refused to use a coloring book and drew all over the walls.”

“Mr. Talbot certainly didn’t like me after that.” I smile, remembering how I had to stay after to clean it up. I was so angry. “But Matthew, why didn’t you ever let me know that you liked me?”

He shrugs. “You’ve always had so many boyfriends. I guess that it’s just taken a while to get up my nerve.”

“Seven years, though.”

“I had to get taller.” He grins. “And anyway, now that I’m taking BESP, I kind of figured out that maybe you like me.” He looks proud of himself.

“I’ll tell your teacher to give you an A.” I smile at him. “You’re right.”

A girl comes up to the table, someone from school whom I’ve seen around but don’t know.

She nods at me, then turns to Matthew. “You’ve got my vote. I like your stand on using fewer computers and more people in the Guidance Department.”

Matthew smiles and says, “Thanks. I appreciate your vote and will do my best.”

I feel invisible for a minute. I wonder if the President’s husband felt this way during the last government election.

Finally she leaves.

I debate batting my eyelashes at Matthew to look cute and sexy but decide against it. First of all, they’re too short. Second of all, I think Matthew knows that I’m here.

We walk back to the store window so that I can find Juna.

She’s watching the models.

As Matthew and I hold hands, we smile at each other.

If I had mood clothes on right now, they would be every shimmery color of the spectrum.

“S
o you really like this new boyfriend of yours?” Grandma Jennifer takes a pan of brownies out of the oven. “His name is Matthew, right?”

I nod. “Oh, Grandma, I really do. He’s so nice . . . and cute . . . and fun.”

She smiles. “I remember when I was your age, I used to love falling in love. You and I are a lot alike.”

I stick my fingers into the pan. “Ow, that’s hot. I burned myself.”

Grandma Jennifer breaks off a leaf from the aloe plant and puts the sap on my burned fingers. “Be careful. You always want things immediately. Try to wait. The brownies won’t run away.”

I blow on my fingers. “But I love them when they’re hot and gushy . . . when you can sort of roll them warm into balls.”

“Me too.” She kisses my forehead. “When your mother was a little girl, she liked them cooled off and refrigerated.”

“Mom and I are so different.” I sigh. “You and I are more alike.”

Grandma Jennifer nods. “It’s true. But Aurora, remember that your mother loves you.”

“She’s got a funny way of showing it.” I pick the brownie up with a spoon and blow on it. “Both of my parents have a funny way of showing it.”

She says, “They do care. Sometimes I think they are so involved with work that they forget to let you know how much they care. But I know they do. And Aurora, try to understand them. They have done such important things in medicine, saved so many lives, won so many awards. Other doctors and dentists, from all over the world, come here to observe
them at work. I’m so proud. You should be too. I know that you and Starr are very important parts of their lives.”

“But they are just so busy that sometimes it seems like they only notice me when there’s a problem.” I shake my head. “Just living with them is a problem for me. And they like Starr much better than they like me.”

My grandmother smiles. “They understand her interests better, but they do love you too.”

I love my grandmother and usually agree with her, but this time I think she’s just being loyal to her daughter and doesn’t realize how much I hurt.

Grandma Jennifer and I take another spoonful of warm brownie.

Our mouths are soon full.

I feel so comfortable being with her.

“You know what I like even better than brownies like this?” she asks. “I like the brownie mix before it’s baked.”

“Me too.”

“Aurora, when you called, you said you wanted to come over and ask me something. What is it?”

I look down at the floor. “I hate to ask.”

She takes my hand. “Are you in trouble?”

I shake my head. “Not
big
trouble . . . just money again. I owe some to Juna and I’ve overspent my allowance.”

“Again,” she says softly.

I nod, feeling embarrassed.

She sits quietly for a few minutes and then says, “I thought this is what it was all about. Every month, you’ve asked for money and I’ve given it to you. It worries me that this keeps happening.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says. “Just realize what you’re doing. When you’re unhappy, you buy yourself something. Then you’re unhappy because you owe money.”

“But then I’m happy when you help me out.”

“I know.” She sighs. “But then it starts all over again. I want to help, but I’m not sure that what I’ve been doing is helping.”

Panic. What am I going to do if Grandma Jennifer doesn’t come through? I’ll have to ask my parents, and that’ll be a rough scene.

“Grandma,” I plead. “Please. I’ll be good. I promise.”

She kisses me on the forehead. “You are good.
You’re just having a problem, and I want to help in the best way possible. Let me figure out what I should do.”

She thinks.

I sit there and wait.

Finally she says, “I’ll give you the money this time, and then you’ll do something for me to pay off the debt.”

I jump up and hug her. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“This is the last time,” she warns.

I nod. “It’ll never happen again.”

She hugs me. “I want you to try to work out your problems.”

“I hate to think about them.”

“That’s one of the problems that you’ll have to work out.”

I take a spoonful of brownie and put it in her mouth.

She smiles at me with brownie all over her lips. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

I grin at her.

She says, “About the job . . .”

“Yes?”

She looks at me. “Your job will be to spend an
entire day with your mother trying to get along with her.”

“Grandma!”

“Don’t Grandma me. I want you to try.”

“Oh, okay.” It’s my turn to sigh. “She’s been offering to spend a Saturday with me for a while. I always make excuses, but I guess I could give up going to the mall this week and do it.”

Oh, yuck.

“I’m so glad,” Grandma says. “I just want you to try. I won’t expect miracles. Trust me. I know that relations between mothers and daughters are not always easy.”

Neither of us speaks for a few minutes. Then she says, “Tell me about the Turnips. What’s new?”

It’s so much fun to tell her about the stuff that happens at school. I don’t tell her everything, but I do tell her a lot. “The group’s new motto is, ‘The Turnips can’t be beet!’ ”

“So what’s the latest?” Grandma really loves the news.

I tell her about the P.T. Meechies. Over a week and a half ago signs began to appear on display monitors, in the halls, and even on a dittoed test paper. The
signs said things like “The P.T. Meechies are coming,” “The P.T. Meechies are arriving,” and “Get ready for the P.T. Meechies.” No one knew what was happening, and then one day the boys in the Turnips showed up at school wearing very ugly ties that they bought at a mall sale. They talked about what mooches they are, how they always come over to people’s houses and eat everything in sight. The P.T. Meechies have arrived.