Edelsabeth
Lifting my goggles, I looked at my text again. Should I send it?
Edelle:
It’s not like I could keep it a secret forever.
But I wondered how Hunter would react. He’d ask where I was, but did I want him to find me? Maybe he’d remember what I said about designing clothes, taking pictures and making videos, and mountain biking, and it would click. He’d realize it was me and apologize. The way I looked wouldn’t matter, and then we’d be friends in this crazy school together.
Or maybe he wouldn’t figure it out.
But I wasn’t going to tell him it was me. At least not yet. Because then if he didn’t want to be friends, or if he acted like he wanted to be friends at first and then just gradually started paying more attention to other people and left me behind, that would be impossibly awkward. I’m not sure my heart could take it. And not only would I be embarrassed to look the way I do, but completely mortified that we weren’t really friends at all.
If he didn’t figure it out, maybe I could make friends with him again, even though my avatar was boring and basic. Maybe that would even prove to Mom that I don’t need to be pretty all the time.
My avatar was walking slowly through the virtual school as I kept glancing down at the phone in my real hand, debating whether to send the text. I moved through the commons toward the games. I had considered trying them out, but shooting monsters in imaginary worlds wasn’t really my style. Maybe if we just stopped shooting them, the monsters would be nice.
I read my text one more time, took a deep breath, and pushed send.
“Whoa,” a voice said.
I looked up to see another avatar dodge out of my way.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I was trying to send a quick text, and I just wasn’t—”
“It’s okay,” he said and smiled.
“Wait,” I said, my mind realizing what had been happening, “were you . . . dancing?” It seemed like it. Like as I was walking by, he went from standing to breaking into a move. I just hadn’t expected it. I felt bad that I’d thrown him off.
“Yeah, kind of,” he said, and looked to the side, like he was a shy rock star. I had seen him in my science class. I’d admired his hair and how it faded beautifully from dark brown into pink. I guess computers can do that. He was also wearing a super unique magazine-cover-worthy jacket with jeans. I loved all of it.
I immediately wished my avatar looked like me. Call my mom, cancel this, and just make me look like me.
But I couldn’t do that.
“Again, I’m so sorry,” I said.
He gave a crooked smile. “No worries. I actually crashed into someone else the other day,” he said. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know why I told you that.”
I couldn’t picture that happening to him. He seemed like he’d have great body control. I laughed. “I guess we all mess up a little,” I said. That’s when I could have just moved on, but I didn’t want to. “I’m . . . Vanya,” I said.
“Nice,” he said, smiling, then added. “I mean, nice to meet you.” He was probably too cool for me and politely going through the motions. Or maybe he was going to leave in just a second like Marcelo had. Or pretend to listen to me but start texting someone else to say that I was boring.
But he said it was nice to meet me. I had to try to keep this going. “You too,” I said. “That’s really pink.” I pointed at his hair. It was a dumb thing to say but I was a little nervous, and it just popped out.
“Yeah,” he said, then looked away, like he was movie-star smooth, staring out into the distance. Or like he wanted to go somewhere else. I felt like I was falling into the audience again, disappearing into the background.
“I was nervous to go pink at first,” he said. “I mean, it’s pretty bold. But then . . .” he paused for a moment, “I just did it. I regretted it for a little bit, but not now.”
“It looks great,” I said. “Really pops.” It made me wonder if I would be brave enough to try something so different. I usually chose styles that I had already seen others succeed with on social media, like makeup to bring out my eyes or clothes that complement my body type—not something to stand out as different, like pink hair or neon boots. I could feel my admiration rising for this kid.
I hated the idea he might not give me a chance to be friends just because I had a basic avatar. It doesn’t really make sense that we end up grouped together according to how we look, and then we only make friends in that group.
I could overcome that, right? I could become his friend? I’ve seen people on social media who aren’t classically beautiful become really popular. What did they do? I didn’t know, but I had to say something before he left.
“Show me your dance,” I said, hoping he wasn’t about to walk away.
He smiled. “I was just . . .” He hesitated and gave a nervous smile.
“I’m sure it’s awesome,” I said.
He bit his lip a little and nodded. Not only was he not leaving, but I thought he might actually show me. He shifted to the left, his arms moving to one side, then his legs spun him back. He was pretty good. “It’s the dance to an Avalanche song,” he explained.
He quietly sang a couple lines while he moved some more, and I instantly recognized it and joined in just a little, nodding and singing along as I remembered the words. I definitely didn’t dance.
It was adorable how he sang quietly, like he didn’t have an amazing voice. And as I sang, his moves got even better, sharper and right on the rhythm. He was probably just months away from breaking through into the big time and making records.
“I’ve got an idea,” I said. “I like to make videos. Can I record this?” I needed something more interesting and better to post than just me on School MeetUp. And he was definitely interesting and super talented. Of course I’d get his permission before posting, but first I needed to record it.
He smiled pretty big. “Sure, I guess.”
And then he moved a little more. I could tell he was nervous and trying not to look at other people too much as they walked by, but now that he was warmed up, his moves were stone-cold professional good. And I could shift the camera angles to make it look a little more like a music video than just a regular post-on-your-feed recording.
It only lasted thirty seconds or so, but I could tell he liked it. I was like his personal videographer, producing something awesome for him. And I think it changed the feeling of the whole thing. He wasn’t just randomly dancing in the hall; people walking by could see creation in action.
I was making him feel cool.
A couple people even cheered a little for him as they walked by.
“I’ll send this to you,” I said when he was done. “If you’re okay with that.” He definitely was. And then I found out his name was Daebak. How cool was that? I had to remember it. It was like the word day and then Bach, that famous composer guy. We talked about a few more things, like we found out we both liked superhero movies. Well, at least the fun ones. Not the type that get all dark and broody or crazy violent. And he laughed and smiled a little more.
Maybe he wasn’t too cool for me. Maybe I could make friends with an about-to-be-a-rock-star kid even with a super vanilla avatar.
My phone buzzed in my pocket; I realized I’d received several texts over the last few minutes. But I wasn’t going to check them now. Hanging out with Daebak was so much better than I thought this free time would be.
“Hey,” a voice said, “I know you.”
At first, I thought someone was talking to Daebak, but I turned to see Hunter Athanasopoulos, his smile as big as ever. And he was talking to me.
He found me.