11

EARLY NOVEMBER

“This is harder than it looks,” I complain. I’m sitting cross-legged on the futon, holding a tiny purple bead between two fingers and trying to thread wire through the microscopic hole. Janae searches through the pile of beads in the center of the futon.

“You want some help?” Miguel asks from my left.

Miguel and I were somehow paired together when Paisley made the executive decision that all helpline shifts would be run in coed teams. To “remedy safety concerns.”

Janae raised her hand in the meeting to say that bombs and bullets were equal opportunity killers. Walking out with a guy didn’t necessarily increase her safety. But Janae’s not complaining because she got paired with Garth. I made Janae promise to come with me for my shifts so I wouldn’t have to be alone with Miguel. I told her I’d pay her back and come to her shifts too.

“Go for it.” I say, holding out the jewelry. Miguel takes it from me, his fingers brushing against mine. His skin feels hot, and the tips of his fingers are rough to the touch, but not in a bad way.

Miguel grins, his teeth flashing white against his dark skin. “I’ve rethreaded my mother’s sewing needles a hundred times.” I watch as he licks his finger and then slips the wire through the small hole.

Riiiiiing. We all jump. We’ve got to stop being so jumpy about getting phone calls. That is, after all, the whole reason we are here. Riiiiiing.

“I’ll take it,” I say.

I sit in the chair, take a deep breath, and pick up the phone. “Helpline, this is Vanessa.”

“Oh, hi.” The voice sounds surprised, like maybe she didn’t expect anyone would answer.

“Hi,” I tell her. “What’s going on tonight?”

“Uh …” Her voice is shaky. “It’s nothing really.”

“I’m here to listen,” I remind her.

“Okay, it’s just that I moved here midyear, and no one at this school has ever heard of being friendly!”

I am momentarily offended. Of course we’re friendly. I write on my paper: Lonely. New to school. People unfriendly.

Janae scribbles, How does that make you feel?

I hate these pat answers and questions. They feel so forced. But I can’t think of anything else to say. “So you’re new to school.” This sounds even more ridiculous, but luckily the girl doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yeah. I hate it here. I’ve been eating my lunch in a bathroom stall, because there’s no place to sit. No one seems to want to get to know someone new.”

Miguel writes on the paper, Get involved in a club? Or a sport?

I’ll have to remind him later that we’re not supposed to give advice. “Are there any groups you’d really like to hang out with?”

“At my old school I hung with the theater kids.”

“We have a drama program here too,” I point out. “The drama teacher lets people eat their lunches in her room if she’s in there.”

“Really?” I hear the slight lift in her voice. “But I’m not in drama. And I haven’t auditioned for any plays.”

“As far as I know, there’s no rule that says you have to. As long as you clean up your own trash, it shouldn’t be an issue.”

I’m not sure if I just gave advice, but whatever I did, it worked. The girl chatters for a few more minutes, saying she has nothing to lose so she might as well give it a shot. Anything beats eating lunch in the bathroom. And my friends each give me a pat on the back. Mission complete.

At five minutes to closing, Ping! A text comes in. The words glow on the computer screen. Are you still there?

Miguel types, I’m here.

“Anyone in a hurry tonight?” I ask. “Let’s just stay here another twenty minutes and see if this person texts back.”

Everybody’s game, so we kick back and wait. It takes ten minutes. Then Ping!

I can’t fall asleep. I can never fall asleep.

That must be really frustrating.

You’re still there? I thought you guys got off at nine.

We do. But if you know that, why do you text after we’re closed?

I don’t know. Then a few seconds later. Because I can’t fall asleep. I just keep thinking and thinking, and it makes me feel like I’m going crazy.

Are you stuck on a thought tonight?

It’s embarrassing.

No worries. This is anonymous.

I keep having nightmares about that lockdown. I wake up all sweaty and panicky. Thinking about it makes it hard to fall asleep.

That sounds awful.

Seems ridiculous that it’s still bothering me.

I bet you’d find other people are still reacting from the lockdown too. Have you talked to any of your friends?

Well, that’s the other thing. I’m losing my best friend.

Tell me more.

She’s just moving on. That happens, I know. But it sucks.

Agreed. Have you talked to her about it?

No. But what’s she gonna say? She’s too nice to hurt my feelings. I can just tell she’s moving on. Too bad this thing is anonymous. I’d like to link bathroom-lunch-eating girl with losing-my-best-friend girl.

That must make you sad.

Yeah. Then a few seconds later, I’ll let you go. Thanks for staying late for me.

Sure.