stefstef: so how does this work then?
rhysespieces: its like whatsapp or facebook messenger, but it doesnt store messages rhysespieces: like a chat room, but with people you know ?
stefstef: oh . . . why not just use whatsapp?
rhysespieces: some people dont like the whole read receipts thing. plus it’s different, right?
stefstef: yeah, interesting
rhysespieces: haha, give it a go.
rhysespieces: this is cool, we’re having a conversation at normal speed!
stefstef: wow, it’s true! we’re like normal people!
rhysespieces: i could ask you any question i wanted, straight away stefstef: go easy.
rhysespieces: the power. the sheer power.
stefstef: you can ask, doesn’t mean i’ll answer rhysespieces: that wouldn’t be any fun.
stefstef: i dont think my deep dark secrets are much fun!
rhysespieces: oh, i dont mean like deep dark secrets. just like normal stuff. hey i have an idea. let’s make a pact. TOTAL HONESTY. and EVERY QUESTION has to be answered.
rhysespieces: cool, huh?
rhysespieces: stef?
rhysespieces: remember i know you’re still there! that’s the thing about jackbytes stefstef: i know i know. i was asking my dog if she thinks it’s a good idea.
rhysespieces: . . . . . . really?
stefstef: my first question will be, why do you want to start such a potentially embarrassing/dangerous pact with a complete stranger?
rhysespieces: and my answer will be, precisely because we’re strangers. i’ve never got to know anyone like that before. worth a go, right?
stefstef: how do you know i won’t lie anyway?
rhysespieces: dunno. just do.
stefstef: ok. i accept your pact. with caution.
rhysespieces: total honesty?
stefstef: total honesty.
rhysespieces: ?
rhysespieces: do you really talk to your dog?
stefstef: wait, are we starting already?
rhysespieces: yes!
stefstef: ok. then yes.
rhysespieces: what’s her name? breed?
stefstef: rita. german shepherd.
rhysespieces: as in . . . skeeter? or . . . erm . . . ora?
stefstef: no!
stefstef: as in LOVELY rita.
rhysespieces: i dont know wtf that means stefstef: can you send links through this thing rhysespieces: yeah, tap the icon that looks like an arrow in a box and put the link in stefstef: one sec
stefstef: [YOUTUBE – LOVELY RITA – THE BEATLES 1967]
rhysespieces: erm. stef . . .
stefstef: doesnt the link work?
rhysespieces: sure it does. my ears don’t.
stefstef: FUCK. OH MY GOD.
rhysespieces: its ok, dont worry stefstef: i’m so sorry. i cant believe i did that.
rhysespieces: seriously its fine. happens all the time with new people. the ones who can hear anyway stefstef: i want to die.
rhysespieces: i get the reference now. lovely rita. that’s cool.
stefstef: i’m dead. this is my ghost, repenting past sins.
rhysespieces: hahahaha
stefstef: this is going to be the kind of thing i remember in the middle of a normal day in like five years time stefstef: hey, steffi, remember when you made a complete twat of yourself?
rhysespieces: tell me about the song stefstef: what do you mean?
rhysespieces: i can see the lyrics, but they don’t tell me much. what’s it like? slow? cheerful? why do you like it?
stefstef: oh! well
stefstef: it’s like, upbeat. the kind of song that makes you smile. my grandad used to sing it around the house rhysespieces: where would you listen to it? at a wedding? a funeral where you like really loved the person so it was like happysad smiling?
stefstef: it’s the kind of song you listen to in the car, on the way to somewhere you want to go, but you don’t have to hurry there rhysespieces: that’s a good description.
rhysespieces: i like this song too. good choice.
stefstef: i’m really sorry
rhysespieces: petition to add new clause to the pact.
stefstef: ?
rhysespieces: we can only apologise once at a time. no repeated apologies.
stefstef: i accept that clause rhysespieces: i have to go now. see you tomorrow?
stefstef: sure. bye!
[rhysespieces is offline]
I meet Tem at the running track after school the next day. She is already there, bent over, her fingers stretched towards her toes.
‘Hey,’ I say when I get close enough.
She unfolds, a grin already on her face when our eyes meet. ‘Hey!’ she says. She takes in my outfit – leggings, oversized hoodie, ankle boots – and mock-pouts. ‘Aw, I said come dressed for running.’
‘And I said, no way,’ I say patiently. ‘You can’t turn me into a runner. Give it up.’
‘Fine, fine.’ Tem tosses her hair, battled into a ponytail, and leans over to pick up her bag. ‘Timer duty?’
‘Naturally.’ I reach out a hand and she passes me one of her stopwatches. ‘Can we talk first? I want to hear about college.’
‘In a bit,’ Tem says. She seems distracted, stretching up and then down again on her toes. ‘I need to work it off first. You ready to go?’ She gestures at the stopwatch.