Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
“Draw.”
“Draw what?”
“I don’t know. Animals, flowers, tattoo designs, just—”
“Wait. Tattoo designs?”
I bit my lip against a smile. “Yes.”
“Do you have any? Tattoos, I mean?”
“I’m fifteen.”
“Fair. I thought maybe you had cool parents.”
I snorted. “Far from it, unless you think a dad who works in acquisitions and a mom whose job is keeping up with the latest gossip at the club is cool.”
“I’ve heard worse alternatives. So, you game and you draw. What else should I know about you?” He paused. “Maybe… your name?”
I swallowed, anxiety zipping down my spine. I knew he wouldn’t know me even if I gave him my full name and a picture, because Leo was in the top two percent at our school, popularity wise, and I was at the very bottom of the barrel. But still, there was something powerful about anonymity. As Octostigma, I was cool, mysterious — the fun girl who plays video games. Maybe my voice was hot. Maybe the elusiveness was all part of it.
But as Mary Silver, I was a loser.
“You can just call me Stig.”
It went on like this for the rest of the summer. I couldn’t wait to log on, couldn’t wait to see the notification that LeoHernandez13 was inviting me to play with him. We’d kill zombies and laugh and fight over upgrades and who was better at what skill. In the lobby between raids, we’d talk, and the more we did, the deeper the conversations went.
I told him about the god-awful deal I’d made with my mom in order to get this game, and he laughed, asking what kind of dress I’d get for the debutante ball and if I was as good at dancing as I was at slaying zombies.
But his voice softened when he told me about the pressure he felt from his own parents, namely his father.
“He wants me to follow in his footsteps and go to Southern Alabama to play, but I love New England. I love Boston. I just… I can’t imagine leaving.”
“You don’t have to.”
He laughed. “You don’t know my dad. I’m his pride and joy. It’d crush him if I didn’t go to his alma mater.”
“But it’s your life,” I reminded him. “He can’t live both his and yours, too. Besides, wouldn’t he be proud of you no matter where you decided to play football?”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Years of disappointing my parents and still having them love me.”
There was a soft laugh through the headset, and then silence. “Hey… I know this is kind of against all the rules our parents set up for us when we started playing live video games but… do you think I could have your number?”
Butterflies.
Butterflies everywhere.
“Sure.”
When I gave it to him, he freaked out.
“Wait, 781… that’s Weston! That’s where I live!”
Shit.
Panic zipped through me. I hadn’t thought about him putting two and two together when I gave him my number.
I bit my lip in lieu of answering.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Well, that’s because I assumed you were in, like, I don’t know, Canada or something.”
“Canada?” I laughed.
“What school do you go to?”
That killed my laugh. “Uh… it’s a small private school, you wouldn’t know it.”
“I go to a private school, too.”
Sweat prickled the back of my neck. “I have to go. Mom is yelling at me to go to sleep. Wants me to get on schedule before school starts. Bye!”
I logged off before he could respond, my heart hammering in my chest. I flopped back on my bed and closed my eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
But then, my phone buzzed, and a text from a new number came through.
Unknown: Sweet dreams, Stig.
I thought that was it, but after I brushed my teeth and crawled into bed, there was another one waiting for me.
Leo: I’m really glad I met you.
The next morning, my phone rang at seven AM. I answered blearily without even checking who it was, because I never got phone calls, let alone that early.
“Rise and shine,” Leo said.
I bolted upright.
He called me?!
“Um… hi?”
“Figured I’d help your mom in her quest to get you ready for the school routine,” he said. His voice sounded even warmer over the phone, more crisp than over the headset I was used to hearing him in. “Plus, I have football practice, and it just feels fair that you should have to get up at the same time as me since you kept me up so late.”
“I kept you up?”
“All summer long. You really are a bad influence.”
“Says the one who asked for a stranger’s phone number online.”
“And I don’t have a single regret.”
I flushed, flopping back onto my bed and covering the phone so he wouldn’t hear my ridiculous little squeal.
“Hey, Stig?”
“Yeah?”
“Draw me something.”
“What do you want me to draw?”
“Anything,” he answered quickly. “Show me a part of who you are.”
“Why?”
A pause. “Because I like you.”