Offline

by Donna Cooner

  I nodded. “Maybe.”

  I stepped in and leaned my forehead against his shoulder. He slipped his arm around me. It felt so familiar, yet so different. Tears slipped down my cheeks.

  He took the smallest of steps away from me. “So I’ll see you around?”

  I nodded, then said, “Wait.” He turned to look back at me, his eyebrows raised hopefully.

  Pausing for a minute, I was determined to keep my voice steady. “No matter what happens, I want you to be happy.”

  “I know,” he said. “And I want the same for you.”

  Then he walked away, and I felt sad in a million different ways but also relieved. I sat on one of the hay bales that surrounded the fire, thinking about what just happened. I shifted uncomfortably, the hay pricking at my jeans. I looked over toward Isco again, but he was still talking to his friends. He hadn’t seen Jameson kiss me. I wondered if I would tell him about it, if we spoke again.

  “Can I talk to you?” Milo stood just outside the circle of hay bales, the fire flickering on his face.

  I wanted to say no but shrugged instead. This apparently was the night for big conversations. “Do what you want.”

  I scooted over on the bale of hay, and he took a seat beside me, one knee bouncing up and down nervously. I didn’t budge.

  “What, Milo?” I finally asked.

  “You want a hot dog?” He was stalling. We both knew it.

  I nodded, although I really didn’t, but it would give me a second to process all that was happening. Milo jumped up like a spark from the fire had lit his jeans and disappeared into the dark. While he was gone, I tried to compose myself. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of looking rattled. When he came back, he had two hot dogs already stuck on a long wire and two paper plates with buns. He perched on the bale beside me, then carefully handed one of the wires over. I resisted the urge to pull away, stubbornly claiming my space. I positioned the hot dog over the fire, trying to keep it from getting too close and immediately burning.

  “Are you filming this?” I asked casually. “Going to post it to ChitChat later and see how many views you get?”

  “No.”

  I looked carefully at him, but there was no sign of his usual cockiness. I swallowed hard and looked straight ahead toward the fire again.

  “I wanted to say I was sorry for posting that video.”

  I didn’t make eye contact. “I don’t have to accept your apology.”

  “I know, but I had to say it.”

  I pulled in the hot dog to take a look. So far, so good. I moved to put it back into the fire and brushed against Milo’s arm. I jerked back, and the hot dog almost fell off into the dirt.

  He looked hurt at my obvious repulsion. “I don’t have an excuse. It was a stupid thing to do and I did it without thinking; then I couldn’t take it back.”

  My hot dog was starting to sizzle. I turned it slowly, thinking about how I’d broken the offline vow. Was Milo so much worse than me? I stared into the fire and remembered promises made.

  As this fire is my witness, I vow to always stay friends.

  No matter what.

  No matter how.

  I glanced over at him. “People screw up. It’s what we do. All of us.”

  “He never said anything bad about you.” We both knew who Milo was talking about. Jameson. We sat for a moment in silence. I took my hot dog off the fire and slid it into the waiting bun, but I didn’t eat it.

  Milo pulled his blackened hot dog out of the fire and surveyed it sadly. “Maybe I am the kind of person you think I am, but I don’t want to be.”

  Both of us sat with our uneaten food on the plates in our laps, staring straight ahead. Evidently neither one of us was hungry. I could tell something else was bothering Milo, too.

  “Caitlin’s going to be okay,” I said finally. “She wasn’t hurt in the game.”

  “Am I that obvious?”

  I laughed. It surprised us both. “Absolutely.”

  “She won’t go out with me,” Milo said.

  I frowned. “Because of me?”

  “No. Not entirely. But she is super loyal like that,” he said. “She doesn’t trust me. I don’t blame her, after what I did.”

  “Maybe she’s more forgiving than you think. And she doesn’t have to choose between us,” I said. “You should talk to her.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “But let me ask you one thing. Why do you like her?”

  He looked surprised at the question, but then thought about it for a moment. “She’s strong and bold and … gorgeous.” His voice trailed off, then stopped as heat flamed up his neck in a red streak of color.

  “I agree with you,” I said. “And I’ll tell her you said that when I get a chance.”

  Milo glanced up at me, looking grateful and hopeful all at once.

  Up on the stage, Cheri, the student council president, picked up a handheld microphone and called out, “Hey. Hey. Hey.” The cheerleaders yelled and bounced up and down in front wearing matching school sweatshirts. People responded with hand waves and catcalls. The marching band started playing the fight song, and everyone joined in to sing.

  “I have to go,” Milo said, and I nodded. He stood up from the bale of hay and walked off toward the lights. A few steps away, he turned. “Thank you,” he said. I nodded.

  The fight song ended, and Cheri stepped up to the front of the stage, fluttering her hands for quiet. She put her mouth close to the microphone. “Hello?”

  The noise reduced to a small rumble. I saw Jameson waiting off to one side, his guitar slung over his shoulder. He was raking his hair out of his eyes and chewing nervously on his bottom lip.

  “Everyone help me welcome Discord to the stage!” Cheri yelled into the microphone, and Jameson strutted out to center stage, his bandmates following. Jameson started strumming his guitar, and I recognized the song right away. It was a cover of Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl.” Hearing it was bittersweet. The band had obviously been practicing, and the song was much better than the first time I heard it in Jameson’s garage last summer. I remembered how he changed the lyrics for me and sang, “My blue-eyed girl.” That day, he finished off with a lazy grin that made my insides mush. Tonight, I felt more detached.

  The crowd loved the song—everyone was dancing and singing along with the chorus. I glanced around at the happy people. I realized I was actually glad for Jameson. But my nerves shot up when I thought about the fact that I’d be up there on that stage next.

  One doesn’t recognize the really important moments in one’s life until it’s too late.

  —Agatha Christie

  “Are you ready for the award ceremony?” Luna suddenly appeared out of the dark. She didn’t wait for my answer. “The Channel 9 news team is here. Can you believe it?”

  She pointed toward a white van to the right of the stage and a woman in a suit talking to a guy with a big camera on his shoulder. “They’re going to film the ceremony.”

  My heart sank. I had to stop this now and tell her the truth. I had not kept the vow to stay off social media for a month. I hadn’t even come close.

  “Luna …” I started, but then Kiyana and Lizzie were there, babbling excitedly about the reporter.

  “Oh. My. God. This is your chance to catch the attention of real journalists,” Lizzie said, looking at Luna with an awed expression.

  “Well, you guys came up with the brilliant idea for how to pick the award winners,” Luna replied.

  “How?” I asked worriedly.

  “Ms. Spencer looked up all the names of the people who took the vow,” Kiyana explained, “and checked all the names against their ChitChat accounts.”

  “Then she put the names and how long each person has been able to stay off ChitChat in these envelopes,” Lizzie continued, and waved a handful of pale pink squares at me.

  “How does she know?” I asked, my body growing cold.

  “The ChitChat app records activity.
It’s in every profile; you just have to know where to look,” Kiyana said proudly.

  “Isn’t that perfect?” Luna asked. “I didn’t even think about that.”

  I didn’t either.

  “As I call out each name and the number of days they’ve been off ChitChat,” Luna went on, “each person will come across the stage and get their award. You and Caitlin have the most days, of course, so you’ll be last.” She beamed proudly at me. “Cue biggest applause and the Channel 9 news team gets the whole thing on camera.”

  I reached for Luna’s arm, but she was already gone, walking toward the stage with the girls. The comments were starting to scroll through my head again, louder than ever. My prison was telling me that I was an awful person, and it was right.

  WHAT A JOKE! #LIAR

  LIE MUCH???

  DID I JUST SEE THAT GIRL STAB HER BESTIES IN THE BACK?

  Ms. Spencer stepped to center stage. She looked different with her dark curly hair down from her usual bun.

  “Welcome, everyone!” she called out, waving to the crowd. “I’m delighted that one of our biggest stories this year is attracting some major media interest. It is an important, timely story told by one of our very best reporters, Luna Ortega.” She smiled at Luna across the stage, and the crowd applauded. “Luna’s story on our dependency on social media blew me away—and also gave credit to each and every one of the people who participated in the Offline October challenge. And tonight we’re recognizing those participants.”

  I glanced toward the parking lot, but my feet didn’t move. Frantically, I looked back at the stage in time to see Luna step up to Ms. Spencer’s side. This was going to happen. I couldn’t make it stop.

  “Luna, why don’t you say a few words about the challenge?” Ms. Spencer said. “You of all people know this wasn’t as easy as it seemed.”

  Luna reached for the mic. “I’m not going to stand here and lie to you all.”

  The knife twisted in my stomach.

  Luna beamed at the audience. “There have been plenty of times I’ve been tempted to log on to ChitChat this month. But thanks to all the support from my friends, I kept my vow. Now, I’m excited to share with you the participants in the Offline Challenge and tell you exactly how well they’ve done without one of the most popular social media apps—ChitChat.” Dramatically, Luna held up the envelopes to show the audience. Lizzie and Kiyana stood to one side with a stack of papers in their hands. “As I read off your name, please come forward and some of our SO team members will give you a special certificate.”

  “Cheri Thomas …” Luna opened the first envelope. “According to ChitChat, you’ve been off the app for three days.”

  The crowd clapped politely, and Cheri bounced across the stage to take a piece of paper from Lizzie.

  “Davis Jenkins … fourteen days.”

  The football players made loud whooping sounds from the back, and Davis went up to claim his award. He waved the sheet of paper over his head, and the cheers grew.

  “Isco Mercado … sixteen days.”

  Isco bumped his fist into Milo’s, then headed up the steps of the stage. Luna held out the award toward him cradled in her arms like it was an Academy Award statue. Isco took it, then leaned in to speak quickly into the microphone. “I want to thank my mom and everyone who made this possible.”

  Luna fake-kicked him off the stage, and everyone laughed.

  But not me. I couldn’t even focus on the fact that Isco had looked cute.

  My turn was coming up fast. I glanced around in panic and saw Caitlin. If I couldn’t come clean with Luna, I could at least tell Caitlin before everyone else knew. I pushed my way through the crowd toward her.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said, ignoring the press of the football team around her and Luna announcing the names in the background. I had to get this out now.

  “I know,” Caitlin said, looking confused. “We talked before, Annie. It’s all okay. Remember?”

  “No, not that.” I tried to get her full attention, but she looked past me toward the stage.

  “Luna’s waving at us to get up there,” she said. “We better go.”

  The comments kept scrolling in my head.

  NOBODY LIKES YOU

  SHE’S A TOTAL FRAUD

  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!

  “And now, for the biggest winners of all …” Luna paused and waved us onstage. Caitlin went first. I wanted to go in the opposite direction, as far away as possible, but I followed. I didn’t know what else to do. A bright white light turned on at the top of the television camera in front of the stage.

  Tamar walked out on the stage and took over the mic. “Before you call out these last names, I want to say something.”

  A tiny glimmer of hope appeared. Maybe somehow this would end. Luna stepped back beside me and Caitlin.

  “I wanted to give one special shout-out before we run out of time tonight.” Tamar looked over her shoulder to smile at Luna. “Luna has really stepped up her game with this timely story. I had a chance to read her wonderful article about it, and I hope you’ll all help me congratulate her on becoming … our paper’s new editor in chief!”

  I glanced over in shock at Tamar, who gave Luna a thumbs-up and huge grin. “Congratulations!” Caitlin cried, grabbing Luna in a hug.

  I wanted to hug Luna, too, but my arms felt too weak. Besides, Luna was already stepping back to the podium for Tamar’s handshake and the crowd’s applause. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

  “I know these last two names are important,” Tamar added. “But you’re right up there with them.”

  “Thank you so much,” Luna told Tamar. She beamed at the television camera in front of her, then leaned into the microphone.

  “Caitlin Stone …” Luna opened the next to last envelope in her hand. “Twenty-four days.”

  Caitlin made her way up to the podium, smiling. Cheers erupted across the field.

  “Now for our last, but certainly not least, participant …” Luna reached back to pull me up by her side.

  “Annie Webb …”

  I’m a horrible friend.

  Luna opened the envelope.

  I couldn’t breathe, no matter how much air I tried to gulp into my lungs.

  She looked down at the paper, confused, then back at me like she wanted me to explain.

  I can’t keep a promise.

  She covered the mic with one hand. “This must be a mistake,” she said to me.

  I shook my head, mute.

  Her expression steeled; then she turned back to the microphone. “Two days.”

  The crowd let out a rumble of surprise. Luna’s hand dropped from my shoulder, and I stood there alone. It suddenly felt like I was floating above myself.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered to Luna. “I tried to tell you.”

  She turned to face me, her hands clenched at her sides. “You didn’t try hard enough.”

  Tamar, sensing that there was something wrong, quickly stepped up and took Luna’s position at the mic. I heard her saying something to the crowd but couldn’t make out her words. I could also feel Caitlin hovering nearby, watching me and Luna.

  “Please listen,” I begged Luna. “I wanted to be the kind of person who could leave ChitChat behind. But I couldn’t. It’s in my head all the time.” Tears filled my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  Luna’s face closed up like blinds snapping down on the windowpane. I was outside. “You broke the vow.”

  I nodded. I had. And it was much worse than when Caitlin had done it.

  Without saying anything else, Luna turned and hurried off the stage. Caitlin went after her, and didn’t look back at me. I could tell the time wasn’t right for me to follow them.

  But I couldn’t stay here either, among all these people. I had to escape.

  Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen.

  —Orhan Pamuk

  I didn’t know where to go, but I needed to talk to someone,
and he was the only one I knew who would listen without judgment.

  “We’re going to be closing up in just a few minutes,” the woman behind the desk at the animal shelter told me as soon as I came inside.

  “I won’t be long.”

  Rocco stood at the door to his kennel like he knew I was coming, his tail wagging. I opened the gate and slipped inside, bending down to accept his kisses on my wet cheeks. Slowly I sank to the ground, and he crawled into my lap as best he could. I put my arms around his neck and buried my face in his soft fur, finally letting the tears come freely. Rocco leaned in, heavy and comforting against my chest.

  “I should have told them,” I mumbled against his throat. “I chose all those horrible people on ChitChat to follow rather than the people who actually cared about me. What’s wrong with me?”

  I pulled back from Rocco and settled cross-legged on the concrete floor. He lay down at my side, head on my thigh. I rubbed his soft ears, and he made a low rumble of pleasure in his throat. The sound calmed me, and the tears slowed. Rocco rolled his eyes up to look at my face, but kept his chin planted firmly on my leg.

  “I felt like if I didn’t go on ChitChat I was missing out on something important, when the things that were most important were right there in front of me.” Rocco gently put one huge paw on my foot as a gentle reminder to keep rubbing his ears while I talked. I obediently started petting him again. “I know it doesn’t make sense.”

  “I thought I’d find you here,” I heard a familiar voice say. I looked up to see Isco standing at the gate. “Can I come in?” he asked.

  I nodded, quickly brushing my tears off with the shoulder of my sweater.

  Isco settled on the floor beside me. “How are you doing?”

  “I think you probably figured that out from what happened onstage at the Fall Festival.”

  “Yeah.” Isco reached out to rub Rocco’s back and was rewarded with a tail wag.

  “I screwed up.”

  Isco shrugged. “It happens sometimes,” he said. “To everybody.”

  “Staying on ChitChat was bad, but lying was even worse. Especially to my best friends.”