My Time
Watching Through the Screen
Signs of dis-topia littered the streets. People strolling along crosswalks, completely consumed in their phones. Friends clustered together, leaning on the course brick wall of a drug store, cool sodas fizzing away in their lifeless hands. Even the refreshing relief from the stereo typical summer day, paled in comparison to the appeal of the social media. Reckless parents hardly aware of their own budding youths, still untouched by the pang of screen obsession, bombarded the roads with loud honks and flickering devices. Even a quiet public park held little refuge from the poisonous drug of cell phones. The infectious disease that plagued our city. North Hemp stead New York would never be the same.
This scene used to make me sick, and I still find it unsettling, but now me and my team of popular, sporty, stylish, sweet, and smart girls had fallen into the trap of Instagram and barely managed to escape alive. Okay that's a total lie. Now, I know that my beginning is a little rough, and cell phones aren’t all bad. It’s just when people get all obsessed with them. More on that later though. “Kady, hurry up! We’re supposed to meet my mom in, like, 6 minutes! There is no way we can make it if you keep standing’ in the middle of the road and staring at people!” I raced forward, glad to oblige to Laura’s commanding tone. Once I had caught up to her I slowed and continued to look around until Cici spotted me.
She flipped her light, fluffy, red, ringlets off her shoulder and peered and at me with big hazel eyes. “ What’cha lookin’ at anyway?” she asked me in her high pitched, unfocused voice. She scanned the area for anything unusual, “Just a bunch a’ normal people!”
Normal, yes. Should it be normal though? For people to spend so much time staring at the same confounded sheet of plastic, waiting for a text, or a like, or an upgrade. Who cares if there’s a new emoji you might miss out on by skipping this upgrade. Everyone cares. No, it wasn’t right, and even though I did the same thing as them, sometimes, I still wondered if this is what the universe planned for us. To become boring creatures who don’t care about seizing the day, just if some some stranger took a good selfie. Or if they got a birthday shout out. Or if a picture is flattering. Who cares if the picture gets a tbh? The red panda could go extinct.
Sometimes, I wonder if any animals would ever end up vulnerable to poaching, habitat loss, over population, or pollution, if everyone with snap chat on their phone channeled that energy and put it to a good use. I’ve only ever told Anne Marie this. I tried to tell Sailor once, but she just twisted her head in her cute, confused, very inquisitive way. After that, I didn’t even bother with trying. Laura and Cici would never understand.
Cici perked her eyebrows up at me and pursed her lips, before giving me one last suspicious glare, then turned to widen her starstruck hazel eyes and pose in front of her phone, showing off the hot pink bands on her braces. Laura shoved Cici’s head out of the way and cringed at her ruffled straight, medium length, hickory, brown, hair and her fuchsia lip gloss ( melted by the sizzling sun), then proceeded to fix the minor imperfections and make kissy faces for the phone. Sailor strutted along, her hips swaying as she went. She gave me a slight apologetic smile, her blemish free ivory skin glinting in the sun light, then turned to face forward and take a phone call from her mother. Anne Marie shined a faint grin back at Sailor. Her short, wispy, strawberry, blonde was slicked to her neck by an endless wave of simmering heat. We were a strange set.
Everyone told us we were born to be friends, not so sure about that, but we always have been close. Ever since our Mom’s met at parenting lecture and introduced us. Not that we cared at the time. We weren't even a year old. Our quirky group of now 13 year old, had always been the lesser popular club. We weren’t nerds, jocks, emo, or hipsters. We were somewhere in between, we were all, and none (except for emo, can’t pin that one on us.) The key to understanding our relationship, is focusing on the balance. We all balance each other out. One was the it girl, one was the future model and fashion designer, one was the athlete, and one was the shy girl in the corner.
Despite our differences, we got along quite well. We had great confidence in each other and the support we shared as friends. So we went sauntering along the uneven sidewalk of Cinder Knoll road like we owned it. Searching around smugly, daring anyone to defy us or correct our path. We strutted the boutique ridden streets for a while, forgetting our curfew and becoming lost in the thrill of new makeup pallets and white converse. Finally we arrived at a white Porsche and Laura reluctantly climbed in, the rest of us in tow. Oh god, Laura’s mom will never let us sleep over now! I thought.
I waited with baited breath for the scolding, the humiliation and embarrassment on Laura’s face when her mother began to publicly punish her. It never came. Miss Jones was too busy texting, and Laura was too anxious to check buzz feed. So I gingerly pulled out my new bronzer and examined the case while we streaked along the roads, leaving people bumfuzzled and screaming in our wake.* Laura’s house was a welcome change, her toy poodle Tweets (named after her beloved twitter account) raced forward to slurp at us with her small pink tongue. Laura halfheartedly leaned over to give Tweets a pat on the head then plopped down on the couch to watch nail art tutorials.
Tweets, still undeterred by Laura’s dismissive behavior, struggled desperately by the foot of her chair. “Ah, hey sweet baby!!” Sailor crooned while she gathered up the persistent pup in her arms. She kissed and nuzzled her all over while Tweet sniffled in her arms. Then she reached into her purse to snag her phone and take a selfie with the pooch. Seeing the device, Tweets bounded out of her arms and pouted on a mound of cushions.
Anne Marie and I exchanged bewildered looks, then settled ourselves on matching pouf chairs to watch shark week. The rest of the night was blur of screens, TV, Phone, Mac book air, tablet, iPad, x box, kinnect, it left me feeling like my head was stuffed with wool instead of brains and stuff. When at last sleep drifted over me, I was red eyed and flustered. My mind continued to whiz with tiger sharks, white porches tearing along, and smudged lip gloss. I awoke entangled in a blob of fluffy blankets and fatigue limbs.
I lay there, wandering in and out of sleep and thinking, We weren't always this way. We weren’t always mesmerized by the thought of technology. We used to be appalled by the sight of people to caught up in phones to talk to friends. By people like us. We’d become our own enemies. Yet we were too far in to relearn the art of conversation. There was no saving us. We could just put up the white flags. Scream to onlookers, “Save yourselves!!” It was like a infection that you didn’t know was there. An infectious phone.
I looked back on my past, tucked over into the deepest corners of my mind, explored the forgotten. What I found played in my mind like a movie. Splashing the wrinkled laughs and dusty tears back to me. I pictured the day when Laura first got her phone, the first day she had snap chat. and Instagram. and twitter.
“Ooh, you should use that one! The one with the soccer ball!”
“But I don’t play soccer, so that doesn’t make sense!”
“When I get my phone I’m gonna buy that one. Or maybe the one with the one with the cheer bow. Or maybe the one with the pool!”
“You would, but I’m gonna buy this one! Don’t you think it matches me?” I remember how Laura posed next to her new phone case. It had been black and white with a big pair of red lips jutting across it. Even then she was caught up in makeup art. Then it was more creative and less channeled, she just did what she pleased.
“I’ll get this one.” Cici smacked her gum loudly and presented her case. It was shaped like a purse and was pink as a flamingo. So Cici. They looked so different, Laura was like a wire with paper- mache skin instead of her now substantial form and tropical tan. Her hair was long and always held up in a ponytail, her eyes still sparkled with the desire to experiment with style and personality. Cici still had short, red, curly, thick hair that perked up at the edges. It floated around the nape of her freckled neck and jumped around while she flounced about the Apple store. She was still tan-ish and had big gorgeous eyes that had got her into the model business as a baby. Her bubbly laugh lit up the room, it was yet to be tampered with by hours of musically.
Those were the days. Crisp autumn afternoons holding pungent breeze, burgundy leaves fading away to no more than a memory, fires crackling with anticipation at the coming of winter. We sat along a cracked and abandoned sidewalk, clutching steaming cups of apple cider in our shivering hands. Well, almost all of us. Laura had received her drink without a word of gratitude and immediately slumped off to take a dramatic black and white photo of herself with the beverage. Hoping for a comment on how long her eyelashes were, or how lovely the leaves in the background looked. Cici soon followed with her cider and they posed together, perched atop the branches of an oak.
“Hey guys come down and sit with us!” Sailor volunteered.
“One sec, I've got to keep my streak up,” Laura replied and continued to fumble with the buttons. Cici anxiously leaned farther over and gaped open mouthed at her phone. Sailor sighed then strolled over to the worn, gritty, splintered, bench by the side of the park. There she hunkered down to stay and sip at her steaming drink. Anne Marie and I joined her and soon Laura and Cici plunked themselves on the sidewalk next us. Our conversation was subdued on account of the fact that Laura was yet to abandon her. We silently pleaded with her too bring up a piece of juicy gossip, burst into giggles, then lead us in reminiscence about past winter fun.
It was January when I was awarded my source of life, and pain. My birthday brought visiting relatives, a dusting of powdered sugar on 12 dozen cream puffs, and a note telling me that I could begin riding lessons in the spring. I was elated to hear of this yet, it was less of a shriek of joy because I was too excited to play on my phone. I cried out with joy when I saw that it already had all the apps and upgrades I had been begging for. I shot too the tie dye icon with the camera that stood front and center. There I stayed for the rest of the day, obsessing over videos and pictures and likes.
I remember that night when Anne Marie called my home phone for the 6th time that day to wish me a happy birthday and tell me she was excited for my party the next day. I had been so groggy I hadn’t cared in the moment. Though now The thought of her sweet, quiet, voice, thrilled with the thought of my birthday, sends tears to my eyes. I memorized her message, replayed it over and over again in my head. Holding it as close to my heart as I could manage and at the front of my mind. My compass needles north. It will always guide me. My eyes grow wet when I speak it, though I can never relive the emotions I felt when it reached my ears in the Morning. The hurt I knew she should have been feeling destroyed me. She should have snapped at me and cried because I hadn’t answered any of her calls, or any of the texts she had sent me from her ancient iPod. She had been the one left behind, and didn’t even care.
I had chatted idly with Cici, Sailor, and Laura all day. They had sung to me and wished happy birthday and promised wondrous presents come tomorrow. But Anne Marie had been left out of the conversation, sitting by the old telephone on the corner table of the living room and waiting for me to call her back. I knew What she was doing. She was pushing ideas forward, excuses for me not paying attention. Her feeble attempt to put forth one feeling and mask another left me stunned at first. The echoes of her 6th greeting from the answering machine hung in the air. I hadn’t even picked up the phone.
The next morning I replayed the message. I felt like a monster and knew at that moment I as. I gasped as all the air in my lungs was replaced by guilt. Cold, hard, piercing guilt that was inescapable. My heart had been stabbed by ice and all my tears came oozing out. I lay there and wept in guilt. I was to blame for my own sorrow. Me, and musically.
Now I wasn’t quite over it. It still hung front and center in the never ending train of remorse filled memories. It faded now. Time was cruel to me and my guilt. It embellished the thought with twists and turns of it’s own, crinkling it at the edges. Toying with my emotions. Like the devil leaning over my perfect world, picking it up, and twisting it round on his finger. My mind was now messy and unstructured again, and soon as I fixed it the Devil would come back around.
This thought haunted my mind throughout the day Anne Marie got her first phone. She insisted on leaving out any social media apps, quietly acknowledging all of our questions. Laura opened her mouth to protest but We hushed her Immediately. It was Anne’s birthday and she could make decisions on her own. “But how are we going to include her in,like, Anything if she doesn’t at least of Instagram!” Laura hissed. Annoyance flashed through her squinted brown eyes and you practically see the words she was holding back fighting at her tongue.
“It’s Annie's day, Leave her alone,” I whispered with just as much zeal. Laura pursed her lips as if she she had just sucked a lemon. Her expression was nearly as sour as the imaginary lemon. Luckily, Anne Marie chose that moment to come skipping across the room, Sailor and Cici in tow.
“Let’s go! My Dad’s taking us to the ice skating rink!” she shouted. This was the one sport she could beat me at. IF you could say one thing about Annie, You would probably say she’s smart, then say she’s shy. But I would say she’s graceful. That girl practically floats along on cloud nine. She’s the prettiest ice skater in the world. She pirouettes lightly on the glimmering glass like surface, leaps through the air, and glides across a sheet of newly sculpted ice.
We piled into her father’s big blue van without hesitation. While none of us were as good as Annie at skating, we had improved a lot and come to enjoy it. As soon as the car was full, the phones came out. Well, except for Anne Marie's. I didn’t even notice it then, but looking back I remember her catching sight them and nearly crying. Her mouth had twisted into a scowl that could curdle milk. She proceeded to curl up in a ball and murmur murderous sounding things.
When at last we arrived none of us noticed except for Annie, who practically flew from the car. It wasn’t until she was halfway through the crowded parking lot that we stumbled out of the car to join her. Once inside we hurried to pull on skates and hit the rink. Anne Marie was gorgeous. Simply stunning. Her hair floated about her in a cloud of sunset like colors. She wore her professional skaters dress. A tight rose leotard with gold seams trailing around the bodice. The skirt was blended into the dress with excellent craftsmanship. A short taffeta masterpiece of pink gold and white. She raced around a doe in the forest.
It was too radiant for words, she was a fairy flying above a meadow of stark white orchids. This would be the perfect birthday shout out photo. We all got out our phones and began to snap away. Suddenly, with a forced twist of the foot. She was done skating. Instead she was glaring at us with great frustration. She pushed her nose up in the air and glide over to her father. A few moments later she shoved over to us, standing like idiots on the ice, clutching our phones like they were our life source.
“We’re leaving! Now!” she announced. We stared at her through the camera app. Bewildered. Perplexed. Irritated. Why was he doing this. She had been waiting forever to try out her outfit. We made our way through the mass of cars in a stunned silent.
Two weeks later I found myself desperately rooting around in my purse,”Did any of you guys take my receipt for that stuffed owl? It has a =hole in it and I want to return it.”
“We just went out!” Laura complained
“Toys and Co’s just around the corner, next to Starbucks. We'll grab frappes on the way. We can walk there. Good exercise!” I insisted. Everyone groaned at this. They had just gotten good exercise for an hour. Shopping with them at Pleasant Center shopping district wasn’t what it used to be. It’s just down the road from Annie’s house yet I’ve got to drag them there when we walk.
“Maybe the receipt fell out and it’s in my room now, go ahead and check,” Annie shouted. So I climbed the winding flight of stairs to her pink room. I shoved aside the mountain of A+ assignments, raked my hands through the arrangement of stuffed animals, plunged under her bed, and sorted through piles of glass figurines (she collects them) before finally discovering a gleaming white piece of paper. My receipt!
I grinned as I picked it up, until I noticed the ‘Dear Editor,’ sign at the top of the page. I nearly shredded it then and there, but my curiosity got the best of me. What would Annie be writing to the news about? And why wouldn’t she tell us about it? I carefully unfolded the piece of loose leaf lined paper. Unconcerned about the privacy violations. This is what I found in Annie’s neat calligraphy hand writing.
Dear Editor,
I’m writing to you about a very real issue that comes up in my daily life. Being placed in the teen age bracket myself this has been concerning me for awhile. The release of social media on children has been disastrous, but before I go further, I want to make it clear that I do not intend to say that we should all drop electronics completely. I have a phone and I like to use it. The problem is when people begin to obsess over it. The hours on end spent punching buttons on a screen, it’s just unnatural. Observing the effect the social media has had on my 4 friends has been sickening and life changing.
They have stopped really enjoying things and living in the moment. Now, instead of seeing things through there own eyes and admiring the beauty of this world and it’s gifts, they think of how it would look in black and white. It’s like instead of smiling and laughing they text emoticons. They post nature photos instead of taking hikes. It makes me cry to watch them get transformed into these slaves of technology. I hope by sending this letter to help them get back to the way they used to be, and to save others from their fate. I hope to save them from time spent watching through a screen.
Thanking you for listening,
Anne Marie Dacia Bird (Annie for short)
Wow, I did not know that her middle name is Dacia. Though that is beside the point. Before I even had the chance to consider the consequences, I went flying into a whirlpool of rage. Vengeful thoughts scoured my veins along with vast quantities of adrenaline. My eyes swelled with the desire weep, but I blinked back the tears and left piercing blue eyes to burn. I screeched a blood curdling scream that surely destroyed the ears of my friends. I thrust myself about the room with great persistence. How on earth could she do this to us!? Were my exact thoughts as I crashed into her bookshelf. I payed no attention to the delicate mouse figurine that shattered and added to the cacophony of noise emanating from the stairs.
All of a sudden my friends were slumped against the door frame, gawking.. I stared. Daring them to speak. Or to move. They slowly tensed. Laura went rigid. Cici hunched over. Sailor tucked her lips down. Anne Marie continued to gape
Sailor shifted her weight, then spoke up,” Kady honey, what’s all this a-”
“No! Get away!” I interrupted. My voice shaking with the threat of flame. My own fire of anger. It brewed beneath me. Inside me. It made my skin itch and my spine tingle.
“You,” I extended one, trembling, finger to Anne Marie keeping my voice even and harsh, “ that letter could have ruined us! You know it to, everyone would know it was us you were talking about! You could have just told us you know, we would have listened!” I lost control by the end and bared my teeth to keep from betraying my emotions further. I watched her face slowly change from utter bewilderment to dawning comprehension.
“THAT’S A LIE!” she shouted before bursting into tears. She would have shrunken to the floor and hit her head if it wasn’t for Sailor. Sai jumped out in front of her and caught her easily in her strong light brown arms. Annie struggled for mere moments, yelling and crying uncontrollably before letting loose a flood of fat, sopping, tears and bawling in her own little corner of paradise. Sailor stroked her hair and crooned gently to her. Whispering soft phrases and calming words. Seeing her huddled on the floor quieted the flame and stalled the fury. My form softened and I stumbled forward to put a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry!!” she wailed, “I just wanted my old friends back! You’re all to wrapped in your phones to have fun these days!” she gasped for air and buried her head into the crook of Sai’s neck.
“Sorry,” I croaked. Prompted by Sailor evil eye, I pushed onward, “I only thought about how the letter would affect our social life and not how it showed your feelings. I know you weren’t trying to embarrass us, just get the message through to us.”
“I guess I kinda backfired,” Annie gave a weak smile, and her voice trembled as she spoke, but I knew she was joking.
“ Now that everything's okay, could someone talk normal about it?” Cici pleaded in her absent minded drawl.
“Yeah, or at least say what just happened?” Laura added, earning a nod from Sailor. Annie and I exchanged glances. Then she plunged into a heated discussion about her opinion on cell phones..
Thank you for reading! Epilogue Coming out Soon!
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