The First Love Anthology: A collection of novellas

by Amy Sparling

  “So guess what? You know that number you made me text last night?”

  “Did he reply?” she says, her voice all excited and full of energy.

  “Yeah. And we’ve kind of been talking all day.”

  “What!” she squeals. “Is he hot? I bet he’s hot!”

  “I have no idea what he looks like.”

  “Jess! What is wrong with you? You’ve been talking all day and you haven’t exchanged pictures?”

  “No,” I say defensively. “That would be weird.”

  “What’s weirder is talking to a guy who could be butt-ugly.”

  I laugh. “It’s not like I’m going to meet him. But he is cool. He’s funny and he’s helping me pass the time of being stuck at home.”

  I can hear what sounds like typing on Abigail’s end of the phone. “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Nothing…” she says in a sing-song voice. A few moments later she says, “Oh…my…God…”

  “What?” I press the phone to my ear as if that’ll make her talk faster.

  “I found him. Max Bradford.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I practically yell into the phone. “What are you talking about?”

  “I remembered that paper with his number on it was in my back pocket so I found the jeans I wore yesterday and Googled it.”

  My stomach tightens and I’m suddenly annoyed with my best friend. “I don’t want you to Google him,” I say. “You’ll ruin the fun to talking to some random guy.”

  “No I won’t,” she says. “Don’t you want to know if he’s cute?”

  I sigh. “Is he?”

  She laughs. “I have no idea! Google his number and click on the first result. I’ll wait.”

  Now I wish I hadn’t told her anything about Max because, although yeah, I do want to know what he looks like, I don’t want Abigail knowing. What if he’s some seventh grader or something? Ugh, she’d never let me live it down.

  I go to the computer and search for his phone number. The only thing that comes up is a Facebook post. It’s on the group page for the Summerfield ISD Varsity Football Team. Summerfield is the next town over.

  It’s an old post, from almost two years ago. People are talking about getting together for a fundraiser for the team. Someone named Max Bradford commented:

  I’m down. Call me, and then he put his phone number. The same number I’ve been texting.

  Now I know why Abigail said she can’t tell if he’s cute or not. His profile doesn’t have a user image on it. I click on his name and nothing comes up but a totally empty profile.

  “We don’t know if that’s him,” I say.

  “Well it’s the same phone number and the name Max, so…” Abigail sighs. “I wish he had a photo. I can’t allow my best friend to chat up some ugly guy.”

  “Whatever happened to inner beauty?” I say sarcastically.

  She laughs. “There’s nothing wrong with being shallow every now and then.”

  I stare at the Facebook post, doing some math in my head. If he was on a high school football team two years ago, that would make him around my age, maybe even older. But definitely not younger. I feel weirdly excited about this.

  “Abby? Will you promise me something?” I ask.

  “Sure,” she says. “Anything for my best friend.”

  “Would you please not look him up anymore? Like, don’t investigate it or anything. I don’t want to know what he looks like, okay?”

  She groans. “Okay, fine. I have to get off the computer anyhow so I can get ready for this party.”

  “I just don’t want to know what he looks like. I mean, it doesn’t matter. We’ve just been texting stupid stuff, so it’s not like we’ll ever meet.”

  “But you keep texting him back, so you must at least think he’s cool,” she says.

  “I’m just doing it to keep myself occupied while my parents are gone,” I say, but even as I say it, I kind of feel like it’s a lie. “Once they’re back and I can go hang out with you again, I won’t need to text some random guy.”

  “For real,” she says. “And we’ll go find you a guy we actually know.”

  I laugh because I have been hopelessly single for over a year now. Every time I think I like a guy, he’ll end up being a jerk, or being disgusting, or just stupid. It’s hard to get my hopes up about dating right now when all the guys are idiots.

  I let Abigail get off the phone so she can finish getting ready for Chase’s party, which will probably be epic and have photo evidence of the epic-ness all over Snapchat tomorrow. But I tell myself there will be other parties and that I can make this sacrifice of my weekend for my parents and their stupid retreat. If anything, it’s going to win me so many brownie points with them that they’ll even let me take their car next time I want to go somewhere with Abigail.

  I try to focus on that, my future life of parties and meeting guys, and tell myself not to think about Max too much. He’s just a guy I’m texting to fight the boredom of being stuck at home. That’s all.

  Chapter 4

  An entire hour passes before Max texts me again.

  Max: Only 8 more weekends until the waterpark opens for summer. And yes, I’m counting.

  This is the longest he’s gone between texts, and I’m curious as to what he’s doing, but I don’t want to be pushy about it. I keep wondering if he’s really the guy we saw on Facebook, which he probably is because it’d be too much of a coincidence. It’s not like multiple people have the same number. I am definitely talking to a guy who plays football at the school in the next town over. I really want to go to his school’s website and search him out from the athletics pictures they no doubt have posted online. But, I also don’t want to know. Part of the fun is just having a random anonymous text friend.

  Me: I don’t mind the weekends until summer. It’s the weekdays that suck.

  Max: lol. For real.

  Max: So, you’re in high school?

  Me: Yep. Scott White High. You?

  Max: I go to Summerfield– well, I used to.

  Great. My heart sinks. He’s totally graduated, meaning he’s probably 19 or 20 and he’ll want nothing to do with a sixteen-year-old. I try to think of something to say, but I’m not sure how to keep up this charade now.

  Me: lucky. I’m still stuck in school.

  Max: so am I, just I do all my schooling at home now.

  Hope flickers in my chest. He’s homeschooled now?

  Me: Why’s that?

  Max: I had to quit going to school so I could take care of my mom. She’s sick.

  Me: oh God, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.

  Max: She’s okay, for now. She’s not like dying or anything, but she has autoimmune problems and needs me to help her.

  Me: You’re a good son! :)

  Inside, I’m melting into a puddle of goo. Max became homeschooled so he can take care of his mom? Most of the jerks at my school would never do that.

  Ugh, here I am getting all swoony over a guy I don’t even know. Get it together, Jess!

  Max: My mom is the best. :) She raised me all by herself and she’s like the strongest person I know. So I don’t mind. Plus, being homeschooled is kind of dope. I just miss my friends sometimes.

  Me: Well now you have me, your anonymous texting friend. :)

  Max: Yes, the friend who won’t tell me her name…

  Me: It’s Jess.

  Max: Ah ha! We have a name! We’re like totally legit text friends now. :) Hi Jess, nice to meet you. I’m Max.

  Me: lol! I already know your name. Tell me something else.

  Max: Umm…. I’m a senior. What about you?

  This is the first time we’re talking about anything remotely personal now. Giddy butterflies float around in my stomach and I am torn between wanting to know all there is to know about this mysterious Max, the former football player high school senior, and also being scared to find out. Part of me still thinks he might be a typical guy. And typical guys are the worst.

/>   Of course, every guy I talk to asks me for nudes by like the fifth text they send. There’s something different about Max. He doesn’t say anything dirty. He’s not a typical guy at all. He’s funny, and he knows how to have a good conversation.

  I hesitate before telling him my grade. I kind of want to lie and say I’m older. But for whatever reason, I decide to be honest.

  Me: I’m a sophomore.

  Max: Cool. So I’m guessing you live around here since you found my number at the dog park. I haven’t been there in forever. Do you have a dog?

  Me: No, my best friend has a dog and we take her on walks all the time. And yep.. I live around here, but I’m not giving you any more details because you could be a murderer.

  Max: lol, what if you’re the murderer?

  Me: Maybe I am… maybe that’s my trick – to lure you into thinking I’m just a nice person afraid of murders...

  Max: something tells me you’re not a murderer.

  Me: What’s that?

  Max: I dunno. You’re too nice. :)

  Me: Dang… you got me.

  I pull my feet up on the couch as I grin like an idiot while I text with Max. My brother is building a Lego fort and watching Disney movies, and overall, it’s a pretty chill night. I hate knowing that my best friend is at a party having a blast while I’m stuck here, but talking with Max is making all of it better. He’s been replying quicker too, so I haven’t even bothered checking my Snapchat lately. Talking with him is way more fun.

  Max: This is the most I’ve texted in like months.

  Me: me too. Mostly I just use Snapchat.

  Max: I don’t have one of those.

  Me: WHAT!? Everyone has a Snap!

  Max: lol, not me. I don’t have any social media.

  I want to call him on that lie because I saw his Facebook post. But then I remember the profile was blank. Maybe he deleted everything before deciding to stop using social media. That’s totally weird.

  Me: Why don’t you use social media? That’s like…unheard of

  It also makes me wonder what he’s trying to hide.

  Max: it’s kind of a long story. See, there was this girl…

  My stomach tightens. Why don’t I want to hear about this? I don’t even know him, I keep telling myself. Ugh.

  Me: A girl, huh?

  Max: Yep. She got pissed that I was friends with other girls from school and she got psycho about it. I mean, that’s stupid because I’m a friendly guy. They were just friends, you know? I’d never cheat on a girlfriend. Like, never. I’m not like that.

  Me: so you deleted it?

  Max: kind of. I just quit using it for a while because it got too annoying. Girls like to stalk your profile and then question every little thing they see about you on there. I was just over it. Totally pathetic. But then I had to quit school and I decided I didn’t want it at all.

  Me: Why’s that?

  Max: because social media is just one big pissing contest. Everyone tries to be better than everyone, and show only these pictures that make them look like they’re living this perfect life.

  Max: And life isn’t perfect, ya know? Sometimes I’d be taking care of my mom who was too sick to walk that day, and I’d just see all these guys I used to be friends with posting pics of parties and crap, trying to act like their life was amazing.

  Max: I realized I was getting jealous and stressed out and I didn’t need that kind of drama in my life. So I ditched it all.

  Me: sounds like you made a good choice. I kind of hate social media. There’s too much pressure to look amazing.

  Max: you’re a girl, so I can only imagine. Girls are totally mean to each other.

  Me: ugh, tell me about it.

  Max: lol. So what are you up to on this Saturday night?

  Max: besides, you know, texting an incredibly handsome and super smart guy.

  My cheeks blush and I’m glad he can’t see me.

  Me: I am? Wait, where’s this incredibly handsome guy? I only see your messages on my phone!

  Max: ouch, Jess. You wound me.

  Me: hahaha… that’s what you get for being cocky

  Max: :)

  Me: I’m just sitting at home watching my little brother. My friends are at a party tonight so I’m trying not to think of everything I’m missing.

  Max: are you a party girl?

  Me: not really. You?

  Max: I’m not a party girl at all

  Me: lol… good to know.

  Max: hey Jess?

  Me: Yes?

  Max: I’m glad you randomly texted me.

  Chapter 5

  Max and I talk until two in the morning when he finally says he should let me go so he can get to sleep. He says he’s up really early each day to give his mom her medicine and make them breakfast. The fact that he cares so much for his mom just warms me straight to the heart and all I can think about as I lay in bed is how great he is.

  At this point, I don’t even care what he looks like. Despite what Abigail thinks, looks aren’t everything. Being kind and caring and honest matters so much more than that.

  I wake up on Sunday morning still thinking of Max. In fact, I dreamed of him, and in the dream, we were hanging out on the beach, holding hands and talking. Of course, as dreams go, I couldn’t actually see him…he was just a blurry guy who made my heart warm and tingly.

  Still, it was a pretty good dream.

  Am I actually falling for a guy I’ve never even seen? Or met in person?

  Oh my gosh. I’m ridiculous.

  Jensen rushes into my room at eight in the morning, all wide-eyed and fully awake. He’s got way too much energy, if you ask me.

  “Morning, Jess!” he says, jumping on my bed. “I’m hungry!”

  “Kid, you are always hungry!” I say, tossing a throw pillow at him. He laughs.

  “Mommy says I’m having a growth spurt and it makes me eat a lot.”

  “Well, at the rate you’re eating, you might be taller than me by next weekend.”

  He laughs at this, and then stands up on wobbly legs and jumps on my bed. “Can we have breakfast, pleeease?”

  “Yes,” I say, throwing the covers off me. “Come on, you little monster.”

  I get my phone off the charger and eagerly check it, only to be disappointed when there’s no new messages. I do have a ton of Snaps from Abigail, but I’m not in the mood to read them right now. Max had said he wakes up early, so I guess I thought I’d get a good morning text just like he had told me good night last night.

  After breakfast, I play Candy Land with Jensen, and then I help him with his Lego creation. The whole time we’re playing, I keep glancing at my phone, hoping for a text.

  Finally, at ten-thirty in the morning, I decide to text him.

  Me: Good morning!

  Half an hour passes, and then he finally replies.

  Max: Um, who is this?

  Cold pierces through my heart, sliding down to my toes. I don’t understand… Maybe he’s joking with me?

  Me: it’s Jess…

  Max: Yeah, I can see that. Looks like you’ve been talking to Max a lot.

  Okay… that’s weird. I swallow, and wonder if maybe this is a joke or something.

  Me: Who is this?

  Max: This is Max’s girlfriend.

  The words bring tears to the back of my eyes. I stare at them for a long time, reading the four words over and over again as my brain has a hard time understanding.

  Max has a girlfriend?

  Anger and regret tug at my heartstrings. Now that I think about it, Max never explicitly told me he was single. He also didn’t mention that he had a girlfriend.

  Or did he?

  There was this girl.

  My heart leaps into my throat. He did say he quit social media because of a girl. I guess I had assumed they broke up, but what if they didn’t. Why am I so stupid? How I could have let myself get so starry-eyed over a guy I don’t even know?

  I put the phone down and try t
o look away, but the screen lights up again.

  Max: Stay away from my boyfriend. I don’t know who you are, but he doesn’t want anything to do with you.

  Max: He’s laughing at you right now. He said he was just messing with you because you’re some dumb skank.

  Max: So don’t even think of texting him again.

  Tears fall down my eyes as I read her hateful messages. The thought of Max laughing about me with his girlfriend makes me feel like the biggest loser in the world. How could he have done this to me? How could he have spent all those hours texting and laughing and sharing fun stories with me, when it was all a joke?

  Tears burn my eyes as I brush them away and try to concentrate on building Legos with my brother.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, his little eyebrows pulling together in worry. “Are you okay?”

  I swallow back my embarrassment and try to smile. “I’m fine, I just got something in my eye, and it hurts. I’m gonna go to the bathroom and try to rinse it out.”

  “Okay,” he says, going back to playing.

  I rush to the bathroom and close the door behind me. Then I turn on the water to drown out the sound of my tears.

  I should have known from the very start. Guys are jerks and they can’t be trusted. It’s my fault for getting so wrapped up in the words of a total stranger.

  I select Max’s name in my inbox and delete all of our messages. Then I delete his name from my contacts list. And even then all traces of him are removed from my phone, the pain in my chest is still there.

  Chapter 6

  Jensen groans when headlights shine into the big window in our living room. He holds up his hand to block the light and then turns to me with a pout. “Are they back?”