Page 47 of Fragments
Me: I can see you’re online ok…
Me: I just wanna talk
Of course, she doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even read them, and my insecurities are starting to creep in.
Maybe she’s fine, and she just doesn’t care enough about me to write back. Maybe I’ve been fooling myself into thinking these people are my friends, when really my parents were right. They’re just strangers.
Maybe I am allalone.
Deciding to give it one last shot, I type some more.
Me: I’d rather you tell me to fuck off than just ghost…
Me: I thought we were friends.
Another minute or so passes. Only this time, the messages are being read. My knee is bouncing while I chew on my lower lip, eyes widening when a new messagefinallycomes in.
Leah: 10 mins
Leah: Call me from your computer.
Relief washes over me, though I’m still beyond confused, and growing increasingly paranoid.
From my computer…?
Why… Because it’s encrypted?
I have so many questions, but I force myself to sit still and wait for ten whole minutes. It feels like tenhours. Then I use one of my encrypted text-app numbers to place a call to Leah’s phone.
It rings a few times before she picks up. But I don’t hear anything right away.
“Leah?”
“Okay, stalker. You got me,” she teases through a sigh, and I laugh.
I’m just so damnhappyto hear her voice, despite how cagey she’s being. And the fact that she’s whispering.
“All you had to do was respond to one of my eight million texts asking if you’re okay…” I tell her, melting back into my chair.
Until she says, “Well… if I said that, I’d be lying.”
My spine stiffens, and I sit up straight. “What does that mean?”
She breathes into the receiver. “I’m notokay, Luthor. I haven’t been okay in longer than I can remember.”
Without even realizing it, I’m up and pacing around the room. “What’s wrong? Are you, like… sick or something?”
“No…” she mumbles, clamming up, as usual.
“Leah… if you don’t wanna talk to me anymore, it’s fine.” I swallow down my insecurities. “I’d rather you just be honest.”
“Are you kidding?” She scoffs. “You’re like… the best thing in my life.”
My stomach is suddenly flopping around, fluttery nerves attacking my chest. “Okay… then why are you always disappearing?”
“It’s not like Iwantto…” she hums. “I don’t have a choice.”
Stowing my anxiety, that goddamn nervous uncertainty that always keeps me from expressing myself to girls, I force out the words, “I think you should tell me the truth. If… if you care about me, you’ll tell me what’s going on with you.”
