Radio Silence

by Alice Oseman

  “It’s fine. People don’t come round my house very often, so, erm … it’s nice!” I realised how sad I sounded as soon as I said it.

  “Okay,” he said. “If you don’t mind.”

  “Cool.”

  He glanced around my room one last time. I saw him spot my desk and the messy worksheets and revision notes scattered everywhere, including on the floor. He looked at my bookshelves, which had a mix of classic literature I was planning to read for my Cambridge interview and some DVDs on them, including the entire Studio Ghibli collection Mum got me for my sixteenth birthday. He looked outside my window towards his house. I didn’t know which window of his house belonged to him.

  “I never told anyone about Universe City,” he said, glancing back at me. “I thought they’d think I was weird.”

  There were a hundred things I could have said in reply to that, but I just said:

  “Same.”

  And then we were silent again. I think we were just trying to absorb what was happening. To this day I have no idea whether he was particularly happy about this revelation. Sometimes I think maybe everything would have been better if I’d never told him that I knew. Other times I think it’s the best thing I’d ever said in my whole life.

  “So … breakfast?” I said, because there was no way this conversation, this meeting, this stupidly extreme coincidence was ending here.

  “Yeah, okay,” he said, and though his voice was still all quiet and shy, he really sounded like he did want to stay, just so he could talk to me for a bit longer.

  WE’D MAKE MILLIONS

  He actually didn’t stay for very long. I think he was aware that I was having an internal breakdown at this entire situation, but I made him some toast anyway and tried not to bombard him with questions even though I wanted to. After I’d asked who knew about Universe City (only Daniel) and why he’d started making it (he was bored) and how he did all the voice effects (editing software), I thought I’d better try to calm down, so I just got myself some cereal and sat opposite him at the breakfast bar. It was May, not quite summer, but the morning sun was burning into my eyes through the kitchen window.

  We talked about the classic stuff like school and study leave and how much revision we’d each done. We’d both done our art exams, but he still had English lit, history and maths, and I still had English lit, history and politics. He was predicted all A*s, which was unsurprising for someone who’d got into one of the top universities in the country, and he said that for some reason he wasn’t really very stressed about his exams. I did not mention that I was so stressed that I was losing more hair in the shower than I probably should have been.

  At one point he asked if I had any painkillers, and I suddenly noticed that his eyes were pretty bloodshot and watery and he hadn’t really eaten much of the toast. I’ve always been able to remember what he looked like on that first day at my breakfast bar. In the sunlight, his hair and his skin looked almost the same colour.

  “Do you go out a lot?” I asked, handing over some paracetamol and a glass of water.

  “No,” he said. Then he laughed a little. “I don’t really like going out, to be honest. I’m a bit of a loser.”

  “I don’t either,” I said. “Last night was my first time at Johnny R’s. It was a lot sweatier than I expected.”

  He laughed again, hand over his mouth. “Yeah, it’s disgusting.”

  “The walls were, like, wet.”

  “Yeah!”

  “You probs could have set up a waterslide. I would have enjoyed it more if there was a waterslide, not gonna lie.” I made a weird waterslide gesture with my hands. “Drunk watersliding. I’d pay for that.”

  That was a strange thing to say. Why had I said that? I waited for him to give me that ‘Frances, what are you talking about?’ look.

  But it didn’t come.

  “I’d pay for a drunk bouncy castle,” he said. “Like, there could be a room where the whole floor is a bouncy castle.”

  “Or a room that’s basically a children’s play centre.”

  “Did you ever go to Monkey Bizz?”

  “Yeah!”

  “You know they had that bit at the back with the tyre swings over a ball pit? I’d want that.”

  “Oh my God, yes. We should make this, we’d make millions.”

  “We really would.”

  There was a pause while we were both eating. It wasn’t awkward.

  Just before he left, as we were standing in the doorway, I said:

  “Where did you get your shoes? They’re so nice.”

  He looked at me like I’d told him he’d won the lottery.

  “ASOS,” he said.

  “Ah, cool.”

  “They’re …” He almost didn’t say it. “I know they’re weird. They were in the women’s section.”

  “Oh. They don’t look like women’s shoes.” I looked at his feet. “They don’t look like men’s shoes either. They’re just shoes.” I looked back at him and smiled, not quite sure where I was going with this. He was staring at me, his expression now completely unreadable.

  “I have a coat from Topman,” I continued. “And I tell you what, the men’s section of Primark is the best for Christmas jumpers.”

  Aled Last pulled his sleeves over his hands.

  “Thank you for what you said about Universe City,” he said, not quite looking me in the eye. “I just … that really, erm, means a lot to me.”

  This was the perfect opportunity to say it to him.

  That I was the artist he contacted via Twitter.

  But I didn’t know him. I didn’t know how he would react. I thought he was the coolest person I’d ever met, but that didn’t mean I trusted him.

  “It’s fine!” I said.

  Once he’d waved goodbye and walked off down our drive, the thought hit me that this was probably the longest conversation I’d had with someone my age for at least a few weeks. I thought maybe we could be friends now, but then again, maybe that was a bit weird.

  I went back up to my room and I could see my sketchbooks peeking out from underneath my bed and I thought, If only he knew. I thought about Carys, and whether she was something I should bring up – Aled knew we’d been friends. God, he’d been there on the train all that time, hadn’t he?

  I thought that I needed to tell him about me being the artist because if I left it too long he might start to hate me and I didn’t want that to happen. Nothing good comes out of lying to people. I should know that by now.

  POWER

  Carys never lied about anything. She also never told the full truth, which felt worse, somehow. Not that I realised that until she was long gone.

  She dominated our train conversations with stories about her life. About arguments with her mum and her school friends and teachers. About terrible essays she’d written and exams she’d failed. About sneaking out to parties and getting drunk and all the gossip in her year group. She was everything I wasn’t – she was drama, emotion, intrigue, power. I was nothing. Nothing happened to me.

  But she never did tell the full truth and I didn’t notice. I was so dazed by the way she shone so brightly, her incredible stories and her platinum hair, that I didn’t find it weird that she and Aled arrived at the train station separately in the mornings and he walked twenty metres behind us in the afternoons. I didn’t find it weird that they never spoke nor sat together. I didn’t question anything. I wasn’t paying attention.

  I was blinded, and I failed, and I’m never letting that happen again.

  UNIVERSE CITY: Ep. 2 – skater boy

  UniverseCity 84,873 views

  I’ll be taking on allies from now on. Until I hear from you, survival will be my priority.

  Scroll down for transcript >>>

  […]

  He has a brilliant bike, I can tell you that. Three wheels and glow-in-the-dark. And of course, it’s useful to have someone around who has the use of his bare hands. I can’t tell you what a pain it is to have to keep t
hese gloves on all the time.

  I’m still not sure why I asked for his help. I’ve survived for this long by myself. But since talking to you, I suppose … I suppose I’ve had a slight change of heart.

  If I’m to get out of here, I’m going to have to team up with some city folk every now and then. There are things in Universe City that you cannot possibly imagine out there in the real world, creeping around in the metallic dust. Monsters and demons and synthetic abominations.

  Every day you hear of the latest fatality – some poor loner wandering back from a lecture, a tired geek in the back corner of the library, a miserable young girl alone in her bed.

  And this is what I’m getting at, old sport:

  I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s impossible to survive alone in Universe City.

  […]

  ONLINE

  Mum and I were watching The Fifth Element while eating pizza when my phone buzzed, signifying I had a Facebook message. I picked it up, expecting it to be my friends, but nearly choked on pizza crust when I read the name on the screen.

  (19:31) Aled Last

  hey frances just wanted to say thanks again for taking me home last night, i realise i probably ruined your night … i’m so so sorry xx

  (19:34) Frances Janvier

  Hey it’s fine!! Don’t worry!! <3

  To tell you the truth I didn’t reeeeally want to be there …

  And I kiiiinda used you as an excuse to go home not gonna lie

  (19:36) Aled Last

  ah that’s good then!

  i thought it’d be a good idea to get drunk because i was nervous about going to johnny’s but i think i overestimated how much i needed to drink haha

  i’ve never been that drunk before

  (19:37) Frances Janvier

  Don’t worry!! You had Daniel with you as well so it’s all good! he was getting you water when I found you

  (19:38) Aled Last

  yeah that’s true

  (19:38) Frances Janvier

  :D

  Both of us stayed online for a few minutes after that and I wanted to say something else and I felt like he did too, but neither of us knew what, so I clicked my phone screen off and tried to focus on the film, but all I could think about was him.

  STOP-MOTION

  The day after that was a Sunday and it was the day I’d decided to start study leave revision and it was the day I got an email from Radio Silence – Aled – while I was midway through a maths question on differentiation.

  Radio Silence

  to me

  Hi Toulouse,

  Thanks so much for getting back to me on Twitter! I’m so glad you want to work with the show; I’ve been wanting to implement some sort of visual aspect for a while.

  The email went on for a few paragraphs and Aled talked about all his ideas for the show – repeating pixel gifs like the ones he’d seen on my blog, or stop-motion drawings on a whiteboard, maybe an update to the Universe City logo if it wasn’t too much responsibility. He asked me whether I was definitely sure I could commit, because he couldn’t let his subscribers down – if I was doing this, I was doing this, I couldn’t back out without a very good reason.

  It made me feel sick.

  I put my phone down on top of the maths answers I’d been writing in a notebook. The letters of the email and the numbers on the paper all fuzzed together for a moment.

  I needed to tell him it was me.

  Before I messed up another friendship.

  #SPECIALSNOWFLAKE

  It took until Monday evening for me to come up with a plan.

  I was going to ask him about his shoes. That was how I was going to start another conversation with him.

  Somehow that was going to turn into me telling him that I was Toulouse, the fan artist that he had emailed about the podcast that I’d already told him I was obsessed with.

  Somehow. I didn’t know how.

  It’d be fine.

  I’m well-practised in the art of bullshitting.

  (16:33) Frances Janvier

  Aled!! This is really random but I was just wondering where you said you got your shoes from?? I’m kinda obsessed with them and have been scrolling through websites for the past hour lmao

  (17:45) Aled Last

  hi! oh errr they were from ASOS but they’re a really old pair of Vans, i don’t think you can buy them any more?

  (17.49) Frances Janvier

  Ah mannn that’s too bad

  (17:50) Aled Last

  sorry!!

  if it’s any consolation Dan always says they look like shoes for 12-year-olds and makes a really disgusted face every time i wear them

  (17:52) Frances Janvier

  Well, that must be why I like them, most of the things in my wardrobe look like they belong to a 12-year-old. I am 12 years old on the inside

  (17:53) Aled Last

  whaaat you always dress so professionally for school tho!!

  (17:53) Frances Janvier

  Oh, yeah … well … gotta keep up my head girl study machine reputation

  At home I am all about the burger jumpers and Simpsons shirts

  (17:55) Aled Last

  burger jumpers?? i need to see these

  (17:57) Frances Janvier

  [webcam photo of Frances’s jumper that she is currently wearing – it has burgers all over it]

  (17:58) Aled Last

  DUDE

  that is amazing

  Also

  i have a jumper from the same website?? i’m literally wearing it right now?

  (17:58) Frances Janvier

  WHAT!!

  Show me now

  (18:00) Aled Last

  [webcam photo of Aled’s jumper that he is currently wearing – it has UFOs on the sleeves]

  (18:00) Frances Janvier

  Omfg

  I love it

  I didn’t know you wore stuff like that?? You’re always in plain stuff when I see you out of uniform

  (18:01) Aled Last

  yeah i’m always scared people will laugh at me … idk it’s probably silly haha

  (18:02) Frances Janvier

  No it’s not I’m exactly the same

  All of my friends look so cool and beautiful and classy all the time … if I turned up wearing a burger jumper they’d probably just send me home

  (18:03) Aled Last

  omg your friends sound mean

  (18:03) Frances Janvier

  Nah they’re cool they’re just … idk I feel a bit different from them sometimes. #specialsnowflake am I right!!!!

  (18:04) Aled Last

  no it’s all right i know the feeling! haha

  In the end we chatted on Facebook until gone 10pm and I completely forgot about telling him I was the artist until 3am when I remembered, and started to panic, and couldn’t fall asleep for another two hours after that.

  AWKWARD

  “You’re an idiot,” said Mum, when I relayed to her the entire situation on Wednesday. “Not an unintelligent idiot, but a sort of naïve idiot who manages to fall into a difficult situation and then can’t get out of it because she’s too awkward.”

  “You just described my life.” I was lying down on the lounge carpet working my way through a maths past paper while Mum was watching a How I Met Your Mother rerun, cross-legged on the sofa with a cup of tea in her hands.

  She sighed. “You know you just need to say it, don’t you?”

  “It feels too major to say over Facebook.”

  “Then go to his house. He literally lives across the road.”

  “That’s weird, no one knocks unexpectedly on other people’s doors any more.”

  “Okay – message him and say you need to go to his house to tell him something important.”

  “Mum, that literally sounds like I want to declare my love to him.”

  She sighed again. “Well, I don’t know what to say then. You were the one complaining that this is stopping you focusing
on your revision. I thought that was important to you.”

  “It is!”

  “You barely know him! Why is this bothering you so much?”

  “We’ve had a long conversation on Monday; it feels awkward to bring it up now.”

  “Well that’s life, isn’t it?”

  I rolled over so I was facing Mum.

  “I feel like we could be friends,” I said. “But I don’t want to mess it up.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” Mum gave me a sympathetic look. “You’ve got lots of other friends.”

  “They only like School Frances though. Not Real Frances.”

  LOGARITHMS

  Despite doing well in all of the exams I have ever taken, I always panic about them. I know that sounds like normal behaviour, but it doesn’t feel normal when you’re reduced to tears because of exponentials and logarithms – a completely useless topic from one of my maths exams. I couldn’t find any notes on it in my folder, and the textbook was useless at explaining anything. I remember absolutely nothing from my maths AS level nowadays.

  It was 10.24pm the night before my exam and I was sitting on the lounge floor with my mum, most of my maths notes and textbooks spread out on the floor around us. Mum had her laptop on her lap and was clicking through various websites to see if she could find any decent explanations of what logs were. I was trying not to start crying for the third time that evening.

  The idea that I might go down a grade because I physically could not find an explanation of a particular topic made me feel like stabbing myself.

  “Do you have anyone you could talk to about this?” Mum asked, still scrolling through Google. “Are any of your friends in your class?”

  Maya was in my maths class, but she was terrible at maths and would have no better idea than I did. And even if she did, I wasn’t sure whether I’d be able to message her. I’d never messaged her before, discounting group chats.

  “No,” I said.

  Mum frowned and closed the laptop. “Maybe you should just go to bed, love,” she said in a soft voice. “Being tired for the exam will make everything worse.”