by K. Webster
Whitney snorts. “I bet he did. Screw him. You’d be better off using my singles app I downloaded. Hot, local guys down to fuck at all hours of the day.”
I crack a smile. “Ha. Ha.”
“Seriously!” she exclaims and laughs. “I already slept with one guy I met through the app. A man.”
“What? How am I just learning about this?”
“Because you were too busy still playing house with Lee.”
I sit up on my knees on her bed. “Tell me about it. Tell me about this guy.”
She shrugs and pops her gum. “DealFinder was his screen name. He was older. Thirty-eight. Some corporate guy downtown. I met him at a restaurant and he fucked me in the bathroom. We ate lunch and then parted ways. The end.”
Shaking my head, I point my finger at her. “You can’t just give me a watered-down version! Was he hot?”
“He was hot but kind of stuck on himself. The guy didn’t even make sure I came. Of course, I did, but that’s beside the point.”
I pick up her phone and locate the app. Sure enough, singles of both sexes show up. “Women too?” I breathe as heat creeps up my throat.
She curses when she drips a blob of orange nail polish on the top of her foot. “Yeah? So? College is about experimentation. I’m starting early.”
I’m scrolling through the faces on the app, on a hunt for anyone familiar. When a pair of haunted green eyes fill my screen, I stop and stare.
“Is that Raven Murray?” I question and hold her phone up.
Whitney’s eyes widen. “Oh my God! It is!”
I laugh and start to scroll again, but Whitney steals her phone back. She squints as she reads Raven’s profile. Her name on the app is PoetPrincess99 and not her real name.
“Can you imagine if she met up with DealFinder? He would have ripped her apart and left her a sobbing mess on the bathroom floor.” She snorts. “Just a little girl playing in a woman’s world.” Her features darken as she glares at Raven’s picture.
I frown. “Maybe we should warn her that there are jerks out there.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “No. Maybe we should teach her a lesson. It’ll be better coming from us and not some strange man.”
“What do you mean?”
“Here,” she says as she grabs my phone. “We’ll create a profile on your phone. A man. We can lead her on a bit and then tell her she’s been catfished. She learns her lesson about online dating and it’ll be funny as fuck for us. Everyone wins.”
My stomach tightens with nerves. “I don’t know. It sounds mean.”
Whitney rolls her eyes. “The world is mean. Best if she learns it now.”
I bite on my lip and watch as she taps away on my phone. After a few minutes, she hands it back to me.
LonelyLogan69.
“What a horrible screen name,” I complain. “She’s not going to chat with some guy named LonelyLogan69.”
“Have you seen his picture?” Her eyebrows waggle.
A picture of Zac Efron.
“She’s not stupid, Whit.”
“We’ll see,” she retorts. “Private message her. Since you’re the ‘nice’ one around here, I’ll let you do the typing.”
Some of the unease melts away. I remember things she told me in biology, so I’ll use them to my advantage.
LonelyLogan69: You’re pretty. I’d like to chat with you but am new to this. Not ready to meet.
Whitney peeks at my message once I send it and nods. “Easy. Now lure her in.”
“If she even replies—”
The phone buzzes in my hand.
PoetPrincess99: Thank you. You’re cute too. Is that really your picture?
Whitney and I both giggle.
LonelyLogan69: It is. Are you really a poet, princess?
“Oh, that’s good,” Whitney says, grinning.
PoetPrincess99: I dabble in poetry. It calms my thoughts.
LonelyLogan69: What kind of thoughts?
PoetPrincess99: Dark ones. Confusing ones. Sad ones.
My heart sinks. In biology, she always smiled. As though she were happy. As though she didn’t notice that she was poor and wore dated clothes that hung from her thin body. As though everyone wasn’t laughing behind her back. As though the whole world didn’t matter.
“Keep it going,” Whitney orders. “I’m going to go dry my hair. We’re going to Claudia’s party tonight.”
I give her a weak smile before settling back against the pillows.
LonelyLogan69: Are your thoughts calm right now?
PoetPrincess99: My dad’s not home, so life is always calm when he’s not here.
My heart rate spikes. This feels intrusive and not funny. As much as I like playing games with Whitney, this feels different.
LonelyLogan69: Is he mean to you?
I don’t remember seeing any bruises on her but then again, she always wore long sleeves even in the spring when the temperature would get up to ninety degrees. As a matter of fact, so did Rome. Such a strange duo.
PoetPrincess99: Not to me. To my brother.
I let out a sigh of relief for Raven’s sake but then a sick sensation settles in my stomach.
LonelyLogan69: He hurts your brother?
PoetPrincess99: He hits on him when he’s been drinking. Anyway, how old are you? What do you do for fun?
I want to probe her more on her father and brother, but she clearly wants to change the subject.
LonelyLogan69: I’m eighteen. I like going to football games.
Not lies.
PoetPrincess99: Ahh, so you’re probably into the cheerleader types. I’m not like that. I have a brain.
Her comment irritates me and I feel defensive.
LonelyLogan69: Cheerleaders are smart too. That was mean.
PoetPrincess99: Sorry. You’re right. I’m not good at this…whatever this is. I just opened an account with this app because I only wanted someone to talk to. I’ve had a rough couple of days. And if all goes well…maybe we could meet.
My heart seems to skip a beat in my chest. Doesn’t she know this isn’t safe? She’s not like Whitney. Whitney could bring a grown man to his knees with one evil glare. But not Raven. Raven is too innocent.
LonelyLogan69: You don’t even know me. It’s not safe to meet with people you don’t know.
PoetPrincess99: I’m desperate to know someone. Anyone. I’m desperate for them to know me too. I work at Hamby’s Diner. You could come see me tomorrow if you wanted. I don’t have much time to meet anyone.
LonelyLogan69: Not. Safe. I can’t believe you just told me where you work! And why don’t you have time? Are you going off to college in another city or state?
She takes a minute to respond and I’m considering telling her who I am. The lesson doesn’t need to be a hard one, but all it takes is some sicko she meets off this app to get her alone.
PoetPrincess99: Sorry. Again. What else do you like besides football?
LonelyLogan69: I like music. Not this newer stuff. My mom always made me listen to her music, so it just kind of grew on me. My best friend makes fun of me because I’m not obsessed with Taylor Swift like she is.
PoetPrincess99: Your best friend is a girl? Is that hard?
I scrunch my nose and it takes a minute for me to realize what she means. Because she thinks I’m a guy. Oops.
LonelyLogan69: I’m not interested in her like that.
PoetPrincess99: Good.
LonelyLogan69: Can you send me a poem?
I remember Raven always scribbling things in her composition book. I’m sure she has plenty of poetry to send.
PoetPrincess99: Eyes so dead. Hearts cold. Today is my prison. Tomorrow is my savior.
The hair dryer stops and Whitney comes waltzing out. She peeks over my shoulder and laughs.
“That’s stupid.” With a flip of her silky brown hair, she walks into her closet to hunt for an outfit.
LonelyLogan69: I thought poetry was supposed to rhyme.
&nbs
p; PoetPrincess99: You thought wrong.
LonelyLogan69: It doesn’t make any sense.
PoetPrincess99: It makes perfect sense to me.
I start to wonder if it’s a blonde thing that I’m not getting it when she replies again.
PoetPrincess99: My dad just got home. I need to go check on things. Chat later? Maybe you can write me a poem.
She goes offline on the app and I let out a sigh. My mind buzzes with curiosity. I’ve hardly spoken to her aside from the few times in class. Each time, she was pleasantly guarded. I want to know more about her.
Clearly, Raven isn’t the girl I thought I knew.
Raven
LonelyLogan69: Your hair is cute in a ponytail. It suits you.
I keep staring at his latest message and my heart won’t stop thundering inside my rib cage. Like bats. Bats trapped in a cave as someone swings a fiery torch.
Flap. Flap. Flap.
They scatter and screech but have nowhere to go.
PoetPrincess99: I was swamped with customers. I don’t remember seeing you.
I hope he wasn’t there when I fell. One of the vapid cheerleaders—one who I hate for many, many reasons—sat in my section today. Spilled her water all over the floor and didn’t tell me. When I rushed past her table, I slipped and landed on my ass hard. I’m pretty sure I cracked my tailbone.
LonelyLogan69: I was there. I’m sorry you fell. Are you okay?
Heat burns up my throat and settles on my cheeks. When Whitney and one of her mindless sheep were sitting in my section, I was frazzled beyond belief. I wish I had paid better attention to the other patrons.
PoetPrincess99: I’ll be okay. I’m embarrassed you saw that.
LonelyLogan69: I was surprised you were still smiling when you got back up. I would’ve cried.
I smile on the inside. A true smile. One only I see.
PoetPrincess99: It wasn’t a real smile. They’re never real.
I’m not sure why I just told him this, but I vowed I’d let someone know me. Even this good-looking Internet stranger.
LonelyLogan69: What do you mean?
PoetPrincess99: I mean that they don’t know me. They don’t know who I am on the inside…just what I let them see on the outside.
LonelyLogan69: Can you send me a real smile?
My chest squeezes, which makes the bats go even wilder.
Flap. Flap. Flap.
Without thinking too hard, I turn the camera to face me and let a real one slip out. I send it to him before I change my mind.
I smile on the outside. A real smile. The smile I don’t give to others. The smile I usually keep for myself.
LonelyLogan69: I think you should smile…really smile…more often.
That makes me smile bigger. Wider. Brighter.
Someone beats on my door and I nearly cry out. Quickly, I turn off the phone and lean against my pillows.
“Come in,” I squeak out.
The door creaks open and Dad stumbles in. Sometimes, when he’s really drunk, he likes to sleep in my bed with me. It makes me uncomfortable but then he murmurs how much he misses Mom and guilt consumes me. I let him hold me because it beats the alternative. I’d much rather feel awkward with my dad in my bed than feel horrified when he beats my brother’s ass.
He sheds his shirt and kicks off his shoes. Without a word, he slides into bed beside me. Immediately, he’s snoring logs with his heavy arm draped over my waist.
LonelyLogan69: I know all about fake smiles, though.
This piques my curiosity.
PoetPrincess99: You do?
LonelyLogan69: I’m expected to always have my face on as my mom says. It’s annoying because I’m not always happy. I don’t want to smile just because we see the mayor and his wife in town. I certainly don’t smile when I see him at the country club with his mistress.
PoetPrincess99: Just be thankful you have a mom. And ew…the mayor sometimes comes into the diner. He’s an ass.
I feel eyes on me and dart my gaze to the doorway. Rome stares at me with his arms crossed over his chest. His jaw clenches and unclenches. Disgust ripples from him as he takes in the way our father hugs me in his sleep.
I flash him a smile. The smile the others love. The fake smile. The smile I have perfected. The one Dad likes. The one Rome hates.
“Old man, you’ve got a bed.” Rome seethes. His lip is swollen and split. A dark circle is forming around one eye. I guess I can’t stop them all no matter how hard I try.
I shake my head at him. “Stop. It’s fine. He just misses Mom.”
Rome’s eyes flicker with emotion before he hardens his stare. “It’s not fine, Raven. It’s fucking sick.”
I swallow and nod. “It’ll be okay. He’s just sleeping. Dad doesn’t hurt me. Get some rest. Don’t you have to be up at the shop early?”
He stares for a beat longer before storming out of my room and slamming his bedroom door behind him. Dad startles but doesn’t wake from his slumber.
I look down at my phone and am happy that Logan has responded.
LonelyLogan69: He’s probably a terrible tipper too.
PoetPrincess99: He is. The worst. By the way, my name is Raven.
LonelyLogan69: I know…I saw your nametag.
PoetPrincess99: Is your name really Logan?
LonelyLogan69: If I told you my real name, I’d have to kill you.
A small chuckle escapes me. A real one. A laugh that’s only for Logan.
PoetPrincess99: I’ll learn your real name eventually. Until then, good night, Lonely Logan.
LonelyLogan69: I’m not lonely right now.
At this, I beam and my face aches from the sensation. Smiling hurts.
PoetPrincess99: Me neither. I like the feeling. I like it a lot.
I plug in my phone and flick off the lamp. Dad reeks of hard liquor but thankfully is completely passed out. I’m able to nudge him enough to rouse him. He rolls over with his back to me. I start to fall asleep with Logan’s picture on my mind and a real smile on my face but then my phone buzzes again.
LonelyLogan69: Do you ever feel like fate pushes two people together on purpose? Like it knows one isn’t as strong as the other?
I stare at the phone, my stomach hollowing out. All the bats drop dead inside my empty heart.
No flapping. No flapping.
Those words dig themselves deep into my heart and I selfishly wish they were truly meant for me. Unfortunately, I’m smart enough to know better.
PoetPrincess99: I do.
I don’t smile. I don’t smile at all. Not for me. Not for him. Not for anyone.
Courtney
Two months later…
I sit in the downstairs lobby of a swanky hotel downtown as I wait for my best friend. She’s gone wild this summer. Dragged me to every club and every party she can find. Dresses like a high-dollar hooker and fucks like one too. Except, she’s giving it all away for free. Like now. She’s upstairs fucking a guy she met off the app before we go to dinner. I threw a fit earlier about how reckless she was being—at how unsafe all of this is—but Whitney does what she wants. I thought I was going to have to tell Mr. McConnell, but my fears were calmed a bit when she told me the guy she’s seeing knows her dad. I’m not one to judge, but this crap has really gotten out of hand.
Thankfully, I have her to keep me entertained.
My phone buzzes and I grin. I’ve learned so much about Raven the past couple of months and truth be told, I really like her. She’s funny and smart. I love how quick-witted she is too. Back when we were in high school, she seemed like some quiet loner kid. Now that I’ve gotten to know her, I realize she and I aren’t so different after all.
Except when it comes to our taste in movies.
PoetPrincess99: Lalalalala.
I laugh out loud and earn a nasty glare from the bellhop.
LonelyLogan69: You can’t change my mind. The Iron Man movies were the best of all the superhero movies.
PoetPrincess99: How ca
n you even say that after seeing Wonder Woman? She’s…everything.
LonelyLogan69: Girl power and all that jazz, but Iron Man is just a badass.
PoetPrincess99: You can’t convince me, so you might as well stop trying.
I’m dying to see what her face looks like now. Is she fired up and passionate about Wonder Woman of all things? The thought is comical because she’s usually Miss Serious with her poetry and talks about psychological stuff I know nothing about. Apparently, if forced to choose, she’d become a child psychologist one day.
LonelyLogan69: I want to see your face right now.
Seconds later she sends me a picture. Her green eyes glitter with defiance and the middle finger is a nice touch. I laugh again.
LonelyLogan69: Still pretty.
And she is. It makes me feel guilty that she thinks I’m a man. I’ve thought about trying to set her up with one of my guy friends. It would take some convincing to get one to take her out, but I feel like if they got to know her like I have, they’d really like her.
PoetPrincess99: Come see me again at the diner. Tomorrow. Maybe this time, introduce yourself.
I’m about to respond when my best friend texts me.
Whitney: Come to room 543. Dan invited some friends. We’re done screwing around, but he wants me to stay. He invited you too. I promise he’s safe…he went to school with my dad.
I cringe at the thought of hanging out with Dan. Earlier, when I’d met him in the lobby, I’d been appalled with how old he was. He had gray hair at his temples, for crying out loud. Whitney didn’t seem at all disturbed by the fact that Dan was every bit as old as her dad, or the fact that he knows him. I wonder if he knows what his friend is up to with his daughter.
Me: Really? Sounds like a snoozefest. Old people and all…
Whitney: Don’t be so immature. Dan’s a great guy. Besides, they have booze and candy.
With a sigh, I stand and head toward the bank of elevators. I catch my gaze in the mirrored reflection and frown. My blond hair has been straightened into silky smooth tresses. The black dress I’m wearing is expensive and hugs all my curves. I may not have found any guys since Lee broke up with me, but it hasn’t been from lack of trying. Hopefully no old dudes mack on me at this party. Unlike Whitney, I have standards.