Offline

by Donna Cooner

  “Okay,” Luna said, frowning at me. She could tell something was up, but I hoped she’d just drop it. “I think I have enough quotes from you for the article for now. We can always pick it up again later.”

  “Sure,” I said dully.

  “Now,” Luna said, turning back to Lizzie and Kiyana. “I’m glad you guys are here. I have some big news about the Fall Festival.”

  “What?” I asked, suddenly worried.

  Luna beamed. “I told Tamar that we were planning some sort of ceremony for #OfflineOctober at the Fall Festival, and word got around, and now apparently a Denver news station is interested in the story!”

  I gasped, and so did Lizzie and Kiyana. This was bigger than I’d even imagined.

  “What does that mean?” I asked nervously.

  “They might send a reporter to the Festival,” Luna explained, her voice high with excitement. “Apparently they think it’s a timely story, this idea of going offline.”

  “Omg,” Lizzie said. “Whatever we do at the Festival for the participants has to be huge now.”

  Everyone nodded enthusiastically.

  Except me.

  Luna tapped a finger on the side of her cheek, eyes narrowed, thinking. “Instead of certificates … what about awards?” she said.

  My stomach lurched at the thought of walking across the stage to accept an award I didn’t earn.

  There was a long pause while the three of them thought.

  “Maybe people get more recognition the longer they’ve been offline,” Kiyana said. She gestured to me and Luna. “After all, you’ve been offline for a month.”

  I’ve only been offline for twenty-four hours. No one needed to know that, though. I nodded.

  “That’s a great idea,” Luna said enthusiastically. “Let me discuss that with Ms. Spencer and the student council team, and see what we can do.”

  I shifted on my stool. Maybe the idea wouldn’t work. It sounded sort of convoluted anyway. Would people on Team SO just share how long they’d been offline? I supposed I could keep lying then.

  But it felt so wrong.

  I heard Luna’s phone buzz in her pocket.

  “Sorry,” she said, taking it out. “This might be my mom or dad.” When she looked at the screen, though, her eyes got huge and a grin spread across her face.

  “What is it?” I asked, scared that it was something more about #OfflineOctober or the Denver news station.

  “Caitlin just texted me,” Luna said. “Eli Vernon has the flu. He can’t play in the game Friday!” Luna looked up at me with a big smile. “Our girl is going to play for real in the championship game.”

  Wow. I was torn between feeling proud and excited for Caitlin, and also sad that she hadn’t texted me the news, too. I hadn’t heard my phone buzz. I pulled it out just to double-check. No new messages. Luna saw my face fall, and she reached out to squeeze my arm. She understood.

  This was the longest Caitlin and I had ever gone without talking. Last night, I stood at my window looking across the way to her house for some sign, but her curtains stayed closed. I refused to accept that our friendship was over, though. A boy had never come between us before, and it wasn’t going to happen now. Even if I had to accept that boy might be Milo. I could only hope I’d get a chance to talk to Caitlin either before the game, or afterward, at the Fall Festival.

  “That’s so awesome,” Kiyana was saying. “If Caitlin helps the team win, she’s almost guaranteed a starting spot on the team next year.”

  Lizzie, Kiyana, and Luna all began chatting excitedly about the game and Caitlin.

  I was quiet, looking down at my phone.

  Caitlin was playing in the big game. Her dream was coming true.

  Jameson’s dream was happening, too. Discord was headlining the Fall Festival.

  Luna was about to write the biggest story of her life, which could mean her dream of being editor in chief would come true.

  And what about me? What did my destiny hold? I had no idea. But I did know one thing. I was going to stop going on ChitChat. For real. No more cheating. I had to at least stick it out until the Fall Festival. I couldn’t keep lying to my friends, to the rest of Team SO, to everyone.

  Dear Chitchat,

  I’m a liar. I told everyone I left you, But I didn’t. You’re still in my life even bigger than before. I don’t want you here. Not on your terms. We’re not good for each other. You control the shots. You control me.

  But we’re done. For real. For now.

  Annie

  I did it. I finished the article about the offline vow, and I emailed it to Tamar. I barely slept, but I think it was worth it.

  Now I just have to wait for her to read it. I hope she thinks it’s good. I hope she thinks it says something true.

  But no matter what happens, I’ll be proud of what I wrote.

  Luna

  On the night of the big game, I will be in the girls’ locker room getting ready. No one will document this part. There will be only me.

  There is a whole ritual. First, I unwrap the big square of sugary bubble gum, put it in my mouth, and start to chew. While it is loosening up to just the right popping consistency, I’ll start putting on my shoulder pads. Then the jersey over the top. It’s hot and heavy, but I try to think of it like a gladiator shield. It is exactly what’s needed before going into battle.

  There is even a smell. It is sort of a mixture of bubble gum, leather, and dirt.

  Most people never know what it feels like to be the best, but I’m not like most people. This is what I was meant to do.

  Cait

  A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.

  —John A. Shedd

  On the night of the big game and the Fall Festival, I’d been offline for two days. It felt good. I felt strong. I could do this.

  Luna and I sat together in the packed stands along with everyone else in the school, watching the game—and Caitlin.

  Caitlin was amazing out there—she had a great kickoff and a couple of awesome punts. But there hadn’t yet been an opportunity for her to help put points on the board.

  Mariah was sitting in front of us, wearing a tunic-length forest-green hoodie over black leggings tucked into tall buckled boots. She looked like she could have been a cover model in a fall fashion shoot. She gave me a quick look over one shoulder, and I smiled at her, relishing the way she jerked her head back around to look straight ahead.

  In the stands, each school’s fans cheered whenever their team moved the ball up the field, and groaned whenever the opposing team did the same. The game was scoreless until Rocky Mountain scored a touchdown with only five minutes left on the clock. Then they missed the kick for the extra point after, leaving a tiny window of hope for us.

  When Davis threw the ball way downfield to Milo with only a minute left on the clock, both sides of the stands held their breath. The ball hung suspended for what seemed like an eternity, and then Milo leaped into the air above the end zone.

  Touchdown!

  The crowd went wild. Luna and I celebrated, screaming and jumping up and down. The noise was deafening. Now was the moment Caitlin had trained and waited for. The game was tied 6-6. One kick to send the ball between the goalposts and Fort Collins would win the championship.

  It was all up to her. I could hear echoes of the cheering for Milo’s touchdown, but now all I could feel was my heart pounding away inside me.

  Caitlin’s dad stepped out in front of her, smiling and holding out a glove-covered fist. If he was nervous for her, he didn’t show it. Caitlin bumped her own fist against his. She nodded at him, but kept looking straight ahead toward the field. I knew the kick had already started in her mind. It was like walking out onstage for a huge performance. She pulled her helmet on and jogged out to huddle with the guys. She was ready. The crowd was ready, too. There was an excited murmur in the completely full stands.

  Her stage. Her magic.

  “You got this,” I whispered, even
though I knew she couldn’t hear me. But I hoped she could feel me—and Luna—out here, rooting for her.

  “We’ve saved the best until last.” The announcement echoed back up the mountain. “This is what we’ve all been waiting for … Caitlin Stone comes in for the extra point.”

  The sound of the crowd got even louder.

  Caitlin took three steps back, and the ball was snapped to the holder. Everything was moving so fast. The guys on the other team ran directly toward Caitlin as fast as they could. Caitlin ran toward the ball. Her foot connected to the ball, and it soared toward the goalposts. I watched the ball, just like everyone else in the stadium.

  I held my breath.

  The ball went through the goalposts.

  She did it.

  The stands erupted again as time ran out on the clock. It was over. We were the district champions, and it was all due to Caitlin. Luna and I screamed and jumped up and down along with the rest of the crowd.

  “Oh no.” Luna stopped jumping, her face suddenly ashen. She pointed toward the field. Caitlin was sitting still on the grass, holding her ankle. Milo was kneeling on the ground beside her, the rest of the team hovering behind his shoulder. My heart dropped. Something was wrong.

  Caitlin’s dad ran out onto the field. He looked terrified as he crouched down next to Caitlin, talking softly to her. I grabbed Luna’s hand. The stands stood in hushed silence, watching and waiting. Cait looked so small and so far away.

  “Stand up,” I breathed.

  Caitlin’s dad suddenly got to his feet and then held his hand down toward her. She took it and got to her feet, slowly. Her dad hugged her, and the crowd erupted joyfully again. Caitlin lifted her arm in salute and then was instantly engulfed by her celebrating teammates.

  “She’s okay,” I said breathlessly.

  “She’s a lot more than okay. She’s amazing,” Luna said.

  “We have to go,” I said, pushing past the people standing beside us. I had to congratulate Caitlin in person. But mostly I wanted to tell her how sorry I was about everything.

  We found Caitlin outside the stadium gates. Her dad stood on one side of her, Milo on the other. It was like a fortress. I tried to catch her eye, but it wasn’t easy with the crowd around her.

  Luna pushed her way through the people, and I followed a step behind. Luna cupped her hands over her mouth and yelled toward a beaming Caitlin, “Congratulations!”

  Caitlin shoved Iain and Milo out of the way and stepped into Luna’s wide-open arms and tight hug. She caught my eye over Luna’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, not looking away.

  Caitlin untangled herself from Luna and stepped toward me.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, looking her up and down for any sign of injury.

  “Yeah. Just a little shaken up on the play. I’m fine.”

  The noisy crowd pulsed around us, still celebrating. I leaned in to talk directly into Caitlin’s ear. “I was wrong to get upset with you.”

  When I pulled away, she was smiling. She put her arm around me. “It just proves we shouldn’t keep secrets from each other. You’d think we would have learned that by now, right?”

  My stomach churned. I needed to come clean about the vow. But the crowd jostled at our elbows and Cait was getting pulled away.

  Luna called out, “We’ll see you at the Fall Festival?”

  Caitlin smiled and yelled back over her shoulder, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  Right. The Fall Festival. Somehow in all the excitement and drama of the game, I’d forgotten about it.

  “You and Caitlin have to accept your Offline Awards,” Luna said, putting her arm around my shoulder. “You’ve earned it.”

  I didn’t earn anything.

  “I actually need to head over there now to set things up with Ms. Spencer,” Luna was saying. She gave me a quick hug. “I’ll see you at the Festival?”

  I nodded and watched her run off toward her car. I knew I had to keep pretending, at least for tonight. I would go onstage for Luna, for the moment she’d planned. And then I could return to my ChitChat prison later.

  Every lie is two lies—the lie we tell others and the lie we tell ourselves to justify it.

  —Robert Brault

  Moth-filled floodlights lit up the crisp night, highlighting the two scarecrows perched on stacks of hay marking the entrance to the Fall Festival. I cupped my hands over my mouth to blow some warmth onto my frozen fingers. I wore a cozy oversized V-neck sweater, jeans, and white mesh sneakers. Some people were more dressed up, and I wondered while watching the crowd stream by if I should have tried harder with my outfit.

  The band starting playing the fight song, and I pushed my uncertainties away. I headed in through the hand-painted cardboard arch. Smiling parent chaperones manned tables covered with hot dog fixings, chips, and drinks. Student council members, cheeks painted with sparkly pumpkins, handed out bright red-green-and-gold beaded necklaces to the incoming students, and I accepted one and looped it over my head. Excited yelps and screams came from the corn maze. Couples emerged clutching each other and giggling at their successful exit. I scanned the crowd for Luna, but she was nowhere in sight.

  I had to admit the student council had done an amazing job of carrying through on the theme. Nothing screamed fall more than pumpkins, hay, and a marching band. The buzz in the air was almost as strong as the smell of smoke from the strategically placed bonfires set up across the field. My hands itched to pull out my phone and take a picture to share, but I resisted.

  Adam Chu was the DJ—he had one ear to a set of headphones, busy queuing up songs on his powerful-looking outdoor speakers. Behind him was the apple-bobbing booth, but there wasn’t a line for that particular booth; my guess was that none of the girls wanted to mess up their carefully applied makeup dunking their face into a tub of water. Besides, it was cold enough without having a wet head. Maybe the plan for that booth had needed an editor’s touch.

  Jameson stepped out from behind a bale of hay.

  “Hey,” he said, looking right at me for the first time since we’d broken up. His eyes were the same golden-brown color. His hair still blond and curly. So why did he suddenly look like a stranger?

  “Hi,” I said as casually as I could while waiting for my heart to plummet. Strangely, it didn’t. I didn’t feel much of anything at all, except surprise at seeing him. “What’s up?”

  Jameson shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I like your hair.”

  “That’s what you want to talk about?” I asked incredulously.

  He laughed nervously. “No, but I do like it. You look adorable.”

  Once, not very long ago, I would have loved hearing him compliment my hair. Or my face. Or my outfit. Now I felt nothing except a faint buzz of confusion.

  “Well, thanks,” I said, thinking it was funny that he’d never wanted me to have shorter hair. “Are you nervous about your big debut?” I nodded toward the waiting instruments onstage.

  He shrugged. “A little.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do great.” I glanced past him and saw Isco over by the stage talking with some friends of his. I hadn’t seen Isco since that day he’d almost kissed me. I realized I missed hanging out with him and Rocco.

  “I never said thank you.”

  I looked back at Jameson. “For what?”

  “For always believing in Discord. For helping me get this gig.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you,” Jameson said.

  His words should have made me feel great. I’d imagined him saying something like this so many times. But instead I just felt irritated.

  “I missed you, too,” I finally said, but it came out like the missing part was over. And maybe it was. It finally, finally was.

  “I made a huge mistake.” Jameson watched me with red-edged eyes. “We never should have broken up.” He turned his face away, almost as though he was embarrassed to say it.


  We didn’t break up, I thought, but I didn’t say anything.

  “I want us to get back together,” he said.

  It should have been a question, but it wasn’t. There was no asking about what I wanted. He stared at me, waiting for a response. I didn’t feel hurried to give one. He noticed, and it made him uncomfortable. Then he did what he usually did when he ran out of things to talk to me about—he leaned forward and kissed me. The feel of his lips was familiar—warm and soft. But I didn’t feel anything. And I didn’t kiss him back. My lips were stiff and unmoving.

  Surprised at the reception, he pulled back awkwardly. I watched him shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to another, all his bravado suddenly gone.

  I waited for more, but he was waiting, too.

  Finally I broke the silence between us. “Why did you even ask me out in the first place, Jameson?”

  “Because I thought—still think—you’re smart and beautiful and kind and … so many things.”

  “But you don’t like me.”

  He frowned, confused. “Of course I like you.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said.

  He blinked like he didn’t hear me correctly. “You seem different.”

  “Look, nothing stays the same,” I said, remembering what Savanna had said. “Even if we want it more than anything.”

  He blinked again. “So you’re saying you don’t want to get back together?”

  “I wanted to. So bad.”

  He ignored the past tense. “Me too.”

  “But I can’t change who I am. Not even for you.”

  There was a tiny pause while Jameson processed my words. This wasn’t going according to how he’d planned.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, but realized I wasn’t and shouldn’t have said it. “I’ve moved on.”

  Jameson thought that over. I watched him gather up the energy to keep trying. “Maybe we could just hang out sometimes?”

  “I can’t be your friend. Not yet,” I said firmly.

  I heard Jameson let a breath out, almost like a whimper. “But maybe someday?”