ISSUE #8 | Excerpt from "Bookends"

WRITTEN BY MAYA DWORSKY ROCHA, AS SEEN IN PLANET SCUMM ISSUE #8

Jenny’s heart was beating so fast she could feel it in her teeth like a fun, crunchy buzz. Her nose felt like it could fly. That was a weird feeling to have in her nose, aerodynamic nostrils tensing as she plunged back into the water. Bubbles streamed past her eyebrows, and her hands hit the rough concrete of the poolside just as the whistle—

Jenny Winslow won the 100-meter in Beederman County’s Annual Junior Aquatic Meet. Her time was one minute and twelve seconds. That wasn’t her best time, though—her best was a minute flat, but it had only happened once (and, maybe, the timer hadn’t been pressed at just the right moment).

Jenny was happy with her time. Her hair felt tight and her chest hurt and her teeth were still buzzing, but she was happy. The last kid who’d won this was almost thirteen, and Jenny was only eleven since April, so there.

The crowd cheered, and Mom and Coach bundled Jenny into a towel and brought her to the car. They got her cheap, chemical-tasting vanilla ice cream on the way home. It was her favorite and she could feel the fakeness travel down into her body and up her face, settling heavy and smooth in her eyebrows. Jenny was happy and tired and full of yummy chemicals. Jenny was falling asleep. Jenny was—

***

The suit powers down and I steel myself for the pain of disconnect.

Archivist Marigold-Jay-359, reidentify.

I force my lips apart. They sting, but I manage. “Zophiella Raqib.” I lick my lips and the skin is sharp and crumbly and bitter. I miss Jenny’s ice cream.

Archivist Marigold-Jay-359, present three personal characteristics.

The suit sits me up, slowly making room between itself and my skin. I can move my fingers and toes. “I’m eleven and a half years old. My favorite color is blue, but not a dark blue. I like drawing.”

Your three are accepted.
Have a good night’s rest, Zophi.

I step out of the suit, and my arms and legs are still buzzing from Jenny’s race. Not really, obviously, otherwise my biceps would be shiny and taut like hers instead of gray and skinny, with flappy skin. Momma keeps reminding me that what Jenny does only happens in my brain. That means it’s important to move even if I’m tired from her swim meet, and eat even if I can still taste her ice cream.