“Yep,” Reese goes on, his face lighting up like a lantern as he cuts his hand through the air. “They go really deep in the ocean. Zoom! Zoom! Really fast! And it blows soap bubbles and you look at fishes and play musical instruments!”
“Wow,” I say, widening my eyes. I’m reminded of little Jane Pattinson and the way her features illuminated when I told her the story of the magic princess. My heart pangs silently for her.
“That sounds fun,” I reply. “But unfortunately I don’t know how to play it.”
Reese looks like I’ve just murdered his entire family.
“But,” Cody says, coming to my rescue, “maybe after dinner you can teach Seraphina how to play.”
Reese’s eyebrows rise hopefully as he glances at me for confirmation.
“I … I would love that.”
I’m relieved to see that this has evidently erased all the harm that I may have caused. Reese bounds from his father’s arms and dashes into the living room. “I’ll load it!”
“After dinner!” Cody calls.
“I’m just gonna get it ready!” Reese yells back.
Cody sticks his hands in his pockets. “Sorry, I hope you didn’t have any plans tonight. He’s pretty hard to say no to.”
“He’s very”—I search for the right word—“interesting.”
Cody chuckles. “Thanks. Coming from someone as literal as you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
A sudden panic floods through me. “It was a compliment!”
“I know.” Cody bumps against my shoulder. “I’ve definitely missed you.”
A smile breaks out over my face. It feels good. “I’ve missed you, too, Cody.”
40
NORMALCY
Ella was right. Cody is an amazing cook. Maybe it’s just because I’m so incredibly famished, or maybe it’s because Mrs. Pattinson’s cooking was so bland and flavorless, but this chicken is the most amazing thing I’ve ever tasted. Even better than the grilled cheese sandwich Cody’s mom, Heather, made for me on my first night at their house.
It’s so rich and succulent and full of delicious spices that I can’t even begin to identify.
“So,” Ella says, taking a sip of her wine, “Cody told me you were a friend of the family back when he was a teenager?”
Cody gives me a clandestine nod, indicating that she hasn’t, in fact, been told the truth about me.
I smile warmly back at her. “That’s right.” Even though the words out of my mouth might be dishonest, my smile is genuine. Cody’s wife has an infectious joy about her. It’s hard not to smile.
“You must have been very young then,” she calculates, “because you don’t look much older than a teenager now.”
“She’s twenty-five,” Cody is quick to put in.
I nod. “That’s right.” I know exactly why he lied about my age. I can’t possibly be a teenager. That would mean I wouldn’t have been born in 2013.
“You look so young,” she remarks, swallowing a mouthful of chicken. “And so incredibly beautiful. I’m sure you get that a lot.”
I feel my face warm and look down at my plate.
“I mean, truly stunning,” she goes on. “Like a model.” She turns to Cody. “Which reminds me, did you see the new billboard that went up next to the market? I swear the women in those clothing ads are looking thinner and thinner. It makes me want to stop eating completely.”
“Babe,” Cody says, giving her a warm look. “You know models aren’t real people. They’re computer generated.”
She takes another sip of her wine and sighs. “I know. It should be illegal, though. How am I supposed to shop for clothes when the department stores are filled with digital projections of synthetic people who don’t have a single curve or wrinkle?”
Cody and I share another glance. Thankfully, he changes the subject, asking Reese more about the incident at school today.
After dinner is over, Cody and Ella do the dishes, and Reese takes my hand and leads me into the living room, thoroughly explaining everything I need to know in order to become a master at the virtual sim game called Super Suds Sub.
The game is magnificent. It’s not played on a regular TV screen, but rather in a digitally simulated world that completely surrounds you.
I stand next to Reese, with controllers strapped to each wrist, steering a giant, unwieldy vessel through an underwater universe as Reese uses his controllers to identify passing sea creatures.
The projected steering wheel in my hands has physical weight and resistance. The fish blow bubbles that float by my head, making popping sounds in my ears.