by Donna Cooner
“I haven’t done anything yet,” Caitlin pointed out.
“But you’re here, right?” I said.
“Looking hot in that jersey, Cait.” Davis walked over and gave Caitlin an exaggerated wink.
She rolled her eyes at him. “Ditto, jerk.”
Davis laughed. He sat down beside us, setting his helmet on the grass. “You ready for this?” he asked Caitlin.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Caitlin said, bending from the waist to stretch toward her toes.
“Have you seen all the commotion you’re causing?” Davis asked.
I glanced over at him. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s like a million posts about Cait being on the team,” he told me, then glanced back at Caitlin. “You’re a ChitChat star.”
She shook her head vigorously. “I can’t look.”
“Honestly, it’s not all bad,” he told her.
Caitlin tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m sure there are plenty of haters on there. Don’t need that in my head.”
“Besides,” I said, “we took a vow to stay offline.”
Davis raised his eyebrows at me. “Why?”
“It started out as a way to support me,” I explained.
“That video of Jameson?” Davis asked.
I nodded. There was no hiding what had happened.
Caitlin reached for her left ankle and pulled her body down toward her leg, her face almost brushing against her knee. “That was how it started,” she said. “But now I feel like staying offline will help me concentrate on being a better player. I need total focus.”
I felt strengthened by what she said. Maybe the vow was a good thing and not just about me.
But the truth was, I’d felt more tempted than ever lately to go back on ChitChat.
“It’s not easy being the coach’s daughter,” Caitlin went on. “Everyone thinks I made the team because my dad’s giving me a break. You don’t know what it’s like to have people watching and criticizing everything you do.”
“Seriously?” Davis looked at her and shook his head incredulously. “You do know I’m a gay, black football player, right?”
“Of course I do,” Caitlin said. She blinked, then went quiet. This was massive. Davis never opened up like this, and neither of us wanted to shut him down.
Davis kept talking, his jaw tight. “Facing a rushing row of linebackers wanting to smash me to the ground is easy compared to the people who come for me every single day online.”
I nodded. “But do you care what random people think?” I asked him.
“Doesn’t everybody?” He considered me for a moment. “Everybody has their own stuff. Nobody is immune to the meanness.”
I knew he was right. I folded my legs up and looked toward the bleachers. Some kids were hanging out there to watch the practice game. I spotted Mariah and Jordyn sitting side by side. Mariah wore a red skirt and an oversized denim jacket. Jordyn had on a red puffer jacket the exact shade of Mariah’s skirt. The coordination was impressive, but more than a little creepy. I glanced away from them.
“Look,” Davis said. “I’m online way more than I want to be. If I spent that time practicing, I’d be the best quarterback in the state.”
Caitlin leaned against Davis’s shoulder. “Recognizing a problem is the first step to fixing it. So do it with us,” she suggested. “Turn off social media. We can support each other.”
He thought about it for a minute, then clapped his hands together like he was breaking up a huddle. “Let’s do it.”
Caitlin grinned at him. “Go, Team SO.”
He raised his eyebrows in question.
“Stay Offline,” I explained.
“I think the name needs work, but okay,” he said. “Go, SO.” He gave me and then Caitlin a high five. I smiled.
“I’ll talk to Ben about it, too,” Davis said. “He gets horrible messages on ChitChat. He says it doesn’t bother him, but I know it does.”
“Cool,” I said, surprised. I’d always thought of the vow as just belonging to me, Cait, and Luna. But having Ben and Davis be a part of it felt sort of good, too.
If only I could stop thinking about my phone in my bag. How easy it would be to download ChitChat again and reactivate my account.
Coach Stone blew the whistle out at midfield, then yelled at the defensive linemen to get their heads in the game.
“You’d better get over there,” Caitlin said to Davis. “He’s going to want the offensive team on the field next.”
“What about the kicking team?” Davis asked. “You need the practice, too.”
“We all know he’s not going to let me actually play,” Caitlin said. “I’m not even going to step foot on that field.”
“You don’t give him enough credit,” Davis said.
Caitlin sighed. “You’re right. I should be more grateful.”
Davis smiled at her. “And grateful for SO. It’s going to make us even better.”
He picked up his helmet and jogged out toward the field.
My phone buzzed in my bag with a text. I’d long since moved past thinking any incoming texts were from Jameson. I pulled out my phone to see a text from my mom, saying I needed to be home for dinner.
I told Caitlin I had to go, gave her a quick good-luck hug, and then headed up through the bleachers to get to the parking lot.
On my way, I passed by Mariah and Jordyn, and tried not to meet their gazes.
“Hey, Annie,” Mariah said in a fake-sweet voice. “Are you voting for the Fall Festival band?” she asked me when I walked by. Her perfectly outlined lips formed something that resembled a smile.
The Fall Festival band. Discord. What did she mean about a vote, though? I shrugged, trying to act like I knew what she was talking about.
“The three finalists posted their auditions on ChitChat,” Jordyn chimed in. “Discord’s song is awesome.”
Oh. I’d forgotten that Jameson must have had the audition by now.
Mariah raised an eyebrow at me. The blue glitter on her eyelids sparkled like tinsel on a Christmas tree. “Have you not watched it yet?” she asked. “You know, I haven’t seen you on ChitChat in a while.”
I blinked, my thoughts racing. She wanted a reaction from me, so I was careful not to give one. I wanted to tell her that I’d gone off ChitChat, that I didn’t need the app, and that I didn’t need to watch Jameson’s audition. But I couldn’t speak.
For a moment, our eyes locked, and my throat tightened. The look Mariah gave me froze me. It was unmistakable. Pity. There was a squeezing feeling in my stomach. Finally, I turned and walked away.
But I had a horrible feeling that I was going to do something very, very wrong.
Later that night, long after dinner, I lay in bed and thought about Mariah, and Jameson, and ChitChat. I thought about the vow. And I tried everything. I tried writing in the notebook. I tried meditating. I wrote a poem. But nothing worked.
I could have texted Luna and Caitlin an SOS, but I knew they were both sleeping by now. Besides, it was also like I didn’t want their help. I didn’t want them to know.
I grabbed my phone.
I’ll just look to see what song Discord played, I told myself, my heart racing. I’ll watch the video, and then I’ll delete ChitChat again.
My fingers were trembling as I downloaded the ChitChat app. Before I knew what I was doing, I’d reactivated my account.
I was back on.
I couldn’t keep away from my prison. I chose to go back inside and let the door clang shut behind me.
I drank in everything I’d been missing—the photos and the posts and the hashtags. It felt so good at first.
Just watch the song, I told myself sternly. That’s all.
I clicked over to the student council’s page, where the audition videos had been posted, and I pressed play on the Discord video.
Discord’s song was one I’d heard many times before. But they sounded better than ever. James
on not only sounded good, he looked good, too. Ugh.
I checked the votes. Discord was way ahead. I imagined Jameson watching ChitChat with his band, giving high fives all around as the votes climbed higher and higher in their favor. At this rate, it was almost assured Jameson would be up on the Fall Festival stage, playing for the whole school.
I let out a breath. Okay. I’d watched the video. I’d seen the votes. I was done. I should delete the app. I could keep the vow. I would be seeing Luna and Caitlin the next day at the salon. We were dyeing our hair together as a symbol of the vow. I could still face them if I deleted ChitChat now.
My mind screamed at me to go, but I needed to stay. Just a little longer.
I read the comments under the video.
OHHH. LEAD SINGER IS HOT! IS HE AVAILABLE?
NOW HE IS. JAMESON HAS OPTIONS NOW AND A FAT GIRL AIN’T ONE OF THEM.
I winced. My body was a joke to them. Something to laugh about and comment on. I clicked over to my own ChitChat account.
Even though I’d been gone, and even though there were way fewer new comments now, a couple trolls had stuck around, still snarking on some of my photos.
Reality morphed and shifted into a handheld screen full of anonymous voices. If they said the grass was purple and the sky was green, I would never know the difference as long as I stayed right here looking at my phone. All I needed to know was here in my hand. Why go anywhere else? The voices told me what music to listen to, what clothes to wear, what my face should look like, what my body should look like.
At any moment, I could have walked out of this prison. But I stayed.
And scrolled.
And my world reshaped to the truth they wanted me to believe.
If only I had brown eyes
If only I had straight hair
If only I was thin
If only I was tall
If only I was shorter
If only I was smarter
If only I was cooler
I would be perfect.
Annie
Hey, you,
Today I am going to write you (I mean me) a poem. It’s one of the things on the list for me to check off and since I don’t have to show anyone, it doesn’t really matter what I say, right?
Missing you
Is what I do
Don’t show it
Don’t blow it
I know. I know. I would make a terrible Dr. Seuss.
Cait
Today I talked to my grandmother on the phone. It’s been a while. Longer than it should have been. The list reminded me.
She spoke in Spanish and sometimes I didn’t understand, even though I tried to hide it as best I could. I didn’t want her to know I lost words. They slipped out of my brain when I wasn’t listening hard enough. When she lived with us, I never thought about how to talk. It just happened. Spanish. English. My brain moved seamlessly between the two. One sentence in one. One sentence in the other.
I told her I would call her again next week. I can’t forget.
Te amo, Abuela.
Luna
The whole point is to live life and be—to use all the colors in the crayon box.
—RuPaul
“Have you girls figured out the shade you want?”
The hairstylist, Taylor, had spiky purple hair and thick eyelash extensions that made it look like an effort to blink. She wore a black holster belt filled with scissors and combs and stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for my friends and me to decide.
It was Saturday, and Caitlin, Luna, and I were sitting on a bench near the salon entrance. I still felt awful about my slipup last night, but in the light of day, it no longer felt quite so serious. After scrolling for a while, I had found the strength to delete the app again, and I’d fallen asleep quickly. I figured there was no need to tell my friends about what had happened. It was just a one-time thing.
Caitlin fingered the swatches of color in her hands, looking doubtful. I was sure she was thinking of the reaction she was going to get when she showed up on the field with pink hair. Her dad would be surprised. Or maybe even angry. I could tell she was having second thoughts. She took a breath, probably about to admit it, when I pointed decisively to the brightest pink at the end of the row of color swaths.
“This one,” I said.
Luna nodded in agreement. “Yes, that’s perfect.”
We both looked at Caitlin expectantly. She swallowed hard, then finally agreed.
Taylor smiled. “I love that shade of pink.”
“But it’s not permanent, right?” Caitlin asked. She stood up and paced restlessly in front of the picture windows facing Walnut Street.
Taylor shook her head. “It will only last a few weeks.”
Caitlin stopped pacing. I smiled at her encouragingly.
My friends and I got up and settled into three side-by-side salon chairs while Taylor mixed and stirred creams into a bowl.
I looked at my friends in the mirror and saw that Luna was frowning. “Are you worried about the pink hair, too?” I asked her.
Luna shook her head. “The newspaper. The story I was chasing yesterday went nowhere. I have to come up with something or there’s no way I’ll be chosen as the new editor in chief.”
“Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay,” Caitlin said.
“Is it?” Luna asked.
“Have you done anything else off the list?” I asked Luna, to take her mind off the editor in chief thing.
“I organized my closet, so we can check that one off,” Luna said with a smirk. “It was probably a way to avoid working on my English essay, but now all my shirts are color coded.”
“Just shirts?” Caitlin asked.
“It’s a start,” Luna pointed out.
“Well, good for you,” I said, “because I definitely wasn’t going to do that one.”
“Neither was I,” Caitlin admitted.
An assistant flung capes over our shoulders and clipped towels tightly around our necks. This was definitely happening. Whether I was ready or not. The three of us sitting there would have made a great ChitChat photo. #changeiscoming #newdo #makeover
Taylor interrupted my thoughts. “Who wants to go first?” she asked.
Caitlin and Luna looked surprised when I spoke up. “I do.”
“Okay.” Taylor stood with her brush at the ready. “All over? Or just a stripe?”
“Here,” I said, pulling out a swath of my blond hair from the left side. ChitChat trolls immediately screamed in my ear in response.
WHAT WAS SHE THINKING?
IS SHE SUPPOSED TO BE A PINK SKUNK?
SRSLY??? NOBODY DOES THAT ON PURPOSE.
SHE THINKS IF WE’RE LOOKING AT THAT HAIR, WE’LL FORGET ABOUT THE BODY.
I tried to ignore the words in my brain and sucked in my breath as Taylor coated the strip of hair with a thick paste, then wrapped it up in tinfoil.
Luna went next, choosing a piece from right under her ear. “When I tuck my hair behind my ears, it’ll show up perfectly,” she said, and Taylor enthusiastically agreed.
Caitlin shifted in her chair, tapping her Frye moto boots restlessly against the metal footrests of the salon chair.
“And finally …” Taylor stood in front of Caitlin, holding the bowl in one hand and the brush in the other.
“Put it back here,” Caitlin said. She pulled her hair up off her neck, leaving a small section behind that hung down between her shoulders. With her hair down or tucked up in a helmet, no one would even know the pink was there. She glanced nervously at me, then explained, “I don’t know if my dad would approve.”
I considered, then said, “I think it will look great.”
Caitlin breathed a sigh of relief.
After all the creams and foils were applied, the three of us sat in our chairs waiting for the magic to happen. A now-familiar unease settled into my stomach. I glanced around. We were the only ones without phones in our hands. My phone was a filler for blank spaces. Until the vow,
I never noticed how much space there was I didn’t know how to fill.
Waiting in a line.
Chewing.
Riding in a car.
Waiting for hair to turn pink.
Luna noticed it, too. “Even when I think I’ve gotten used to it, I still feel like I should be on ChitChat all the time.”
The memory of what I’d done last night came back with a snap. I sat up tall and reminded myself to breathe.
“Davis and Ben want to take the vow,” Caitlin said, spinning herself slowly round and round in the chair. “Annie and I mentioned it to Davis at practice last night, and he was interested. Is that cool with you?” she asked Luna.
“Of course,” Luna said. “What made them want to get off social media?” She slid toward the edge of her chair. She had a suppressed kind of energy about her. I knew that look. Luna’s brain was suddenly starting to buzz.
“They just wanted a break from all the judgment. Same as us, I guess,” Caitlin said. “What’s wrong? I shouldn’t have shared?”
“No, you absolutely should have shared!” Luna exclaimed. She was practically quivering with excitement. “In fact, I think we need to share it with everyone.”
I felt a twinge of worry. What did Luna mean? The vow wasn’t supposed to be about everyone. It was just about us, right?
Caitlin looked at Luna like the hair dye might be seeping a little too deeply into her brain.
“Don’t you see?” Luna stood up suddenly, her plastic cape billowing behind her like she was a superhero of the salon. “This is the perfect story. It’s about what happens when kids turn off their screens and live their real lives.”
Caitlin blinked, her brows furrowed. “Go on.”
“Kids who want to participate in the offline vow turn off their social media for one month,” Luna said. “I could follow some of the participants and tell their stories.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, understanding now. “You want this to be your news story?”
Luna snapped her fingers, then pointed at me excitedly. “Exactly.” Her eyes were sparkling. “This vow thing could be so much bigger than just us. What if people sign their name to the vow publicly so they have to be accountable for their promise? Others see it and realize social media is a negative influence in their lives, too. And it takes off … like a snowball rolling downhill.”
