Part 1: James
The computer was in the family room, since James’s parents apparently still didn’t trust him to have one in his room, even though every adult he knew regarded him as a “good kid.” Just the right amount of good, too. Not so good that you felt like it was a performance, or a way of making up for something really sinister in his nature. He was the kind of kid who rebelled by riding his bike down the street without a helmet, who made honor roll most semesters but never high honors, who left clothes lying around his room but did his own laundry whenever he needed to. And all he ever used the computer for - and all he ever would use it for, even if it was in his bedroom - was talking to his friends..
And his parents were pretty good, too, as far as privacy went. They didn’t peer over his shoulder or try to read his conversations. (Parent over shoulder. “POS.” That was how the news seemed to think kids talked to each other online. James had laughed when he overheard that, floating in from the TV in the kitchen one evening, and then told Hannah about it as soon as she came online. Now it was one of their inside jokes, one of their “things.”) But he knew they caught glimpses - a screen-name, a profile, a picture someone sent him - which was why he always instinctively minimized his chat windows whenever one of them walked by. But it would just be so much easier if the computer was in his room. No one else used it, anyway.
James spent many nights - the hours that passed between the time he told his parents he was going to bed on school nights, around nine or nine-thirty, and the time his adolescent brain was actually ready to sleep - mentally arguing with his mom about this. He had all the logical arguments on his side: more privacy for him, more space in the family room for them, less arguing for the whole family, he needed it for homework anyway, etc. But James’s mom didn’t listen to reason. She still pictured him as a little kid, even though he was practically fifteen now. Even though he was taller than her.
But at least he had chunks of time like this one. He got home from school at two-fifty (one of the last stops on the bus, because of course they had to live so far from the center of town) and no one else was ever home until at least five. That left one golden sliver of privacy. For another, he had to wait for weekends. After his parents shut off the TV and went to bed, he could stay up until one, two in the morning, talking to whoever happened to be online. Usually Hannah.
Today, it was two-fifty-seven when James completed his weekday routine - threw his backpack onto his bed, used the bathroom, grabbed a soda from the fridge - and settled into his spot in front of the computer. He logged on, scanned his friends list. Hannah wasn’t on yet. That was good; that meant he could message her when she came online. If she had been on first, it would have been her place to message him, and sometimes she didn’t right away. (Torturous, agonizing minutes for him.) Who was on, though? Sean had an away message up: hw then bed. Added 21 hours ago. Kelly Castleman had been on for eight minutes. James reflexively clicked her profile. The same Fall Out Boy lyric that was in there before, but she had changed the font and color. And Victoria, Hannah’s best friend, had signed on just a minute before him. Her profile was a snippet of a conversation between the two of them:
XXxSuicidesxGracexXX: if any guy ever hurts you
XXxSuicidesxGracexXX: i swear to fuckin god
XXxSuicidesxGracexXX: i’ll chop his balls off
victoriASS1992: omg lmao
XXxSuicidesxGracexXX: and then feed them to benji
victoriASS1992: HAHAHA
James was hit with a wave of annoyance, as he was every time he clicked on Victoria’s profile and saw this conversation was still there. It had been in there for almost three weeks. Way longer than you were supposed to leave anything in your profile, but especially a conversation. Song lyrics you could get away with leaving in there a bit longer.
And Victoria had never even dated anybody. Unless you counted the three days back at the beginning of seventh grade (a lifetime ago) when she “went out” with Sean - had put his initials in his profile alone with the date and a heart (SN 9.12.05 <3) and decided that their wedding song would be “When I Look At You” by Our Beautiful Misery (her and Hannah’s favorite band) because it was “just so us.” (The lyrics to the chorus: “Sometimes when I look at you / I know that I’m in love with you / And sometimes when I look at you / I want to kill you, my beautiful darling.”) Meanwhile, Sean was busy playing video games and skating around town. Then on the third day, in the hallway outside the Art room, a chubby girl named Courtney Collins - a former teacher’s pet who had tried to re-brand herself in middle school as “the one who knew all the drama” - told Sean what Victoria had been saying about him and he remembered that he had said “yes” when Victoria’s friend had asked him if he would go out with her. So he told Courtney to tell Victoria that he was breaking up with her, and she beamed. James had been standing next to Sean when this happened, and he had laughed, too, because Victoria annoyed him.
But the real reason that was in her profile was just so everyone would see that her and Hannah really were best friends. James knew she was afraid that people thought their friendship was one-sided, that she liked Hannah so much more than Hannah liked her. This was her proof to the contrary.
But James, who was Hannah’s real best friend even though she couldn’t admit that publicly, even though she had to call Victoria her best friend because they had known each other since kindergarten, and you couldn’t have a “best friend” who was the opposite sex, anyway (which is why he had to call Sean his “best friend”) - he knew how much Victoria annoyed her too. He was the one that she vented to, the one she trusted with her secrets. For instance, she had even told him that she wished Victoria would take that stupid conversation out of her profile.
its not even that funny, she had said on Saturday night. i was just trying to make her feel better cause she was like all depressed. and i dont think benji would even eat balls hahaha.
Benji was Hannah’s dog, a mostly-collie mutt, who she loved more than anything and took pictures with all the time. James had never met Benji, but talked about him like he had. Hannah had told him so many Benji stories that he felt like he knew him, anyway. That night, he had responded to her: yeah i bet he’d just chew them up and spit them out.
James wanted to meet Benji. But he couldn’t tell Hannah that, because it would just remind her that he hadn’t, remind her that they weren’t really that close.
Victoria also wanted everyone to remember that she knew Benji, that she was one of the only people who ever got to go to Hannah’s house. But that was only because they had known each other so long. she just like shows up, Hannah had explained. and my mom doesnt even care. but like my mom would freak out if i invited someone else over. but like she doesn’t get how annoying victoria is.
James glanced at the clock in the corner of the computer. 3:03 PM. Hannah should be getting online soon, unless her mom had started a fight with her as soon as she got home. That happened sometimes. Usually only if her mom had been drinking (which she had told James but made him swear not to tell anybody, so he hadn’t.) But that meant she would tell James all about it later, when her mom passed out or went to her boyfriend’s house and Hannah could finally get online. So he could put up with a couple hours of not talking to her, if it meant he would get to be there for her when she really needed him later.
A chat window suddenly popped up on the screen, accompanied by the familiar chime that always meant Hannah - until it didn’t. James was hit with a surge of adrenaline, then a wave of crushing disappointment when he saw the screenname. It was Courtney Collins, who wasn’t even on James’s friends list.
CourtSport32: hey
He and Hannah never started conversations with “hey” or “hi” or any actual greeting. Whoever messaged first just said whatever they wanted to say, or if there was nothing specific they wanted to say, just said a random word. (Some of Hannah’s favorites: “penis,” “cauliflower,” and “unicorn.”) It was another one of their “things.” But with someone like Courtney Collins, you had to go through the whole ritual:
CourtSport32: hey
xx themachine: hey
CourtSport32: whats up?
xx themachine: nm, u?
CourtSport32: same
xx themachine: cool
James kind of hoped the conversation would die there. Maybe she’d realize he didn’t want to talk to her. But then again, if Courtney said something stupid, he could always send it to Hannah when she came online and they could make fun of her.
CourtSport32 is typing . . .
The line of text appeared, disappeared, reappeared. Courtney was drafting her message carefully, or being indecisive. James placed his cursor over the X in the corner of the chat window.
CourtSport32: do u like hannah?
There it was - that same stupid question he had been asked a thousand times before, plenty of them by Courtney Collins, and had always given the same answer:
xx themachine: we’re just friends
CourtSport32: well ya
CourtSport32: ur just friends cuz SHE says ur just friends
CourtSport32: but every1 knows u like her
xx themachine: lmao
James copied the last couple lines of the conversation so he could send it to Hannah later (she’d appreciate his sarcastic “lmao”), then clicked the X. But Courtney wasn’t done.
CourtSport32: why r u still denying it
CourtSport32: like kid
CourtSport32: EVERY1 KNOWS
CourtSport32: just admit it
CourtSport32: i wont tell anyone
Yeah, right, she wouldn’t tell anyone. Courtney Collins couldn’t keep her mouth shut about anything, nevermind something as juicy as this. James’s confession of love for Hannah was a coveted prize: whoever managed to get it out of him would be the center of attention all night and maybe even into the next day. Not only would people be messaging them asking for the details, asking to see what James said exactly - but everyone else would be talking about them, too. They’d be a crucial, inextricable part of the story. Whenever someone passed along the news that James did like Hannah, after all, their name would be mentioned too: “Yeah, he finally admitted it, he told Courtney Collins . . .”
But James certainly wasn’t going to let Courtney have that. Besides, he really didn’t like Hannah as anything more than just a best friend, and even if he did, he would tell her himself, directly, because that’s the sort of guy he was. He already knew how he would do it if he ever did end up liking her: he would bring her to a concert by one of their favorite bands - (in the fantasy, he had his license) - and then right in the middle of the best part of their favorite song, he would look her in the eyes and mouth “I love you.”
Shit. The concert.
That’s where Hannah was, why she hadn’t come online. She was going to an Our Beautiful Misery concert that night with Victoria, had been talking about it for months. How the hell could he have forgotten? She even had the date marked in her profile: ourbeautifulmisery 5.22.07 ICANTFUCKINGWAIT. Victoria’s mom had gotten them the tickets for Christmas, so he couldn’t be too upset that he hadn’t been invited. But it did make this whole night seem pointless. A chunk of time he just had to endure.
xx themachine: so first of all
xx themachine: you don’t know me and hannahs friendship at all so dont act like you do
xx themachine: and like
xx themachine: you should mind your own fucking business anyway
xx themachine: go do your homework or something idk
That was a good line. In fourth grade, Courtney had raised her hand one day and asked the teacher if they were going to have homework that night, and the teacher - a grandmotherly, floral-dress-wearing kind of fourth grade teacher - had smiled and said, “Thank you for reminding me, Ms. Collins.” Everyone knew that story. James thought about copying this part of the conversation, but remembered it would be tomorrow before he would talk to Hannah again so he didn’t bother.
CourtSport32: how come u rnt going 2 the concert wit her then?
xx themachine: well its still none of your business but
xx themachine: victorias mom got them the tickets
xx themachine: and i dont even like obm
CourtSport32: i thought u did?
xx themachine: theyre ok
CourtSport32: oh
CourtSport32: cool
CourtSport32: gtg bye
Courtney signed off. Or blocked him so he would think she signed off. James didn’t care either way. She was just mad that he didn’t give her anything new to tell people, didn’t say anything he hadn’t said before.
3:13 PM. This was going to be a long night. James pulled his iPod out of his pocket, spent a couple minutes untangling the headphones (even though he had just been listening to it on the bus), and then put on the latest CrossMyHeart album. They were his band - everyone knew that - just like Our Beautiful Misery was Hannah and Victoria’s band. Everyone listened to them, of course, but no one else could ever say they were their favorite.
Why was Victoria still online, anyway? Shouldn’t she be getting ready for the concert with Hannah? Or was she actually sitting there on her computer, talking to other people, when Hannah was over? Hannah had said she sometimes did that. like why does she even ask me to come over, she had ranted to James one night. if that’s what she’s gonna do? like thats really fucking rude.
i know, right? James had replied. id never do that.