Before, there was no one I could count on talking to about my day at the end of it.
He was still typing. But when he finally stopped and the words appeared, I suspected he’d typed something else first and deleted it. The message was way too short for the time it had taken.
I knew it wasn’t fair, because I liked that he wasn’t able to see me blush or snort laugh or scoot up to the edge of my chair during our chats. But I did consider it a downside that I couldn’t see him.
SmallvilleGuy: I hope you love it there, but you don’t need to change. You said Perry saw you arguing with someone. Who was the someone?
SkepticGirl1: Um . . . it might have been the principal?
SkepticGirl1: Shut up.
SmallvilleGuy: Yes, clearly the straight and narrow.
SmallvilleGuy: (But I mean it. Don’t change.)
SkepticGirl1: Anyway, sap, I did want to tell you about that part. I think it might be like something off the boards. Maybe. This girl’s claiming a group of gamers have been messing with her head. Literally. At least according to her.
I called him sap, pretending it was a joke. But it wasn’t. He was never afraid to be openly sincere, something I had a tougher time with. “Don’t change”—who besides a counselor would be brave enough to say that to someone and emphasize that they meant it? Not me.
I told him the rest of the story about Anavi and her pleas to the principal.
SmallvilleGuy: Definitely weird. I’ll see what I can dig up. It could just be stress from them targeting her. I have a feeling they’ll regret it, now that you’re on the case. Promise me you’ll do something, though?
SkepticGirl1: Kick them in the face?
SmallvilleGuy: Be careful, at least until you know what the deal is.
SkepticGirl1: Sounds boring.
SmallvilleGuy: Ha. You know, I wasn’t that far off. So what if you’re not on the news . . . you’re going to be writing it. And you’ll be great.
I grinned. Then typed: So, how was your day?
He might not be willing to tell me his real identity, but we told each other just about everything else.
SmallvilleGuy: Same old mostly. Got a B on my Macbeth paper, even though the teacher hated it. All her comments were about how I was focusing too much on my own reactions.
SkepticGirl1: Or maybe she just likes the play. Didn’t you make it a big discussion of how terrible all the people in it are?
SmallvilleGuy: It’s not a good sign when the witches are the most sympathetic characters, that’s all I’m saying. And maybe she has a crush on the Thane of Cawdor.
SkepticGirl1: A B’s not so bad. Don’t complain too much. Anything else?
SmallvilleGuy: Bess the Cow (your favorite) finally gave birth.
SkepticGirl1: And you didn’t lead with that?!
Bess was the subject of many hilarious farm boy anecdotes.
SmallvilleGuy: Sorry. I’ll take a cute calf picture for tomorrow.
SkepticGirl1: Then I’ll forgive you. Did you name it yet? Boy or girl?
SmallvilleGuy: Girl. Why?
Because I had a crazy thought about what he should name it, thanks to Maddy.
SkepticGirl1: I did some research at the library during English, on famous women journalists.
SmallvilleGuy: Of course you did.
I smiled and stuck my tongue out at the screen.
SkepticGirl1: Anyway, I think you should name her Nellie Bly—she was one of the first investigative reporters. She did all kinds of amazing things like infiltrating an asylum to expose what was going on there and setting a world record by circumnavigating the globe in 72 days.
SkepticGirl1: What do you think?
SmallvilleGuy: That my dad will think I’m crazy. But okay. Nellie Bly it is. Speaking of, I have to go check on Nellie now. Make sure she’s doing okay.
SkepticGirl1: Okay, sap, because I have to go eat dinner. Spaghetti. You ready to tell me who you are IRL yet?
I always asked, though I didn’t expect an answer anymore.
“Lois!” Dad called out for me, but I waited.
SmallvilleGuy: I wish I could. You know I do.
SkepticGirl1: But you can’t. Even though . . .
Today had been a good day and there was going to be a baby cow named Nellie Bly in the world, a tribute to my new hero. Maybe I could risk being brave with SmallvilleGuy too.
SkepticGirl1: Even though if you did, then we could see each other. For real.
I closed my eyes, only opening one to see his response. It wasn’t there yet, but then the words popped up.
SmallvilleGuy: Now I really wish I could. More than you know.
I sighed, and if my fingertips touched the screen and those words for a second before I typed my response, it didn’t matter to anyone but me. No one else would ever know that I could also be a sap.
SkepticGirl1: I’ll keep it in mind. Later, mystery boy.
“Lo, dinnertime!” Lucy shouted from right outside the bedroom door, trying the knob.
I clicked to sign off. But not before I saw one last message from him.
SmallvilleGuy: The Warheads really do sound like they could be bad news. Be safe.