Bubble Girl (Cont.)

The girl’s interpalm communicator chimed. She held her hand up to face the sky. The bluish hologram of her mother’s head and shoulders projecting out of the tiny lens implanted in her palm was nearly invisible in the bright sun.

“Come on home, Jennie,” she said with a tired smile. Jennie closed her hand into a fist, picked up the pony’s reins and swung up onto its back. The pony’s pace picked up now that he knew they were heading toward his home and his food. Jennie put the pony in his small stall in the tractor shed and hung his bridle on a nail. She turned around to leave, and nearly ran into the slightly chubby girl standing behind her.

“Lookin’ for your brother again, Jennie?” she sneered.

“Come on, Eva.” she sighed. “Can we do this another time?”

“He ain’t comin’ back, Jennie. Them brush burners don’t )never come back.” Eva spat. Jennie tried to step around the stockier girl. Eva stayed in her way. Jennie’s interpalm chimed again.

“Eva, if you don’t want to get it, you’d better leave.”

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