“Now what’s on your mind?” Ryan asks, nudging my shoulder.
“It’s...nothing.” I shake my head.
“You can’t do that. You can’t tease that you’re gonna say something and then not say it. Hurry up and spit it out, before Jason and Laura get here.”
“It’s just...that video. And this interview...” I feel the words forming in my head and in my mouth, and I feel like a jerk before they even come out. “I keep thinking about how if she was at Quarter Slice Crisis, that means she might be from around there, right? Plus, her streaming partner goes to college in that area. I mean, there aren’t any conventions going on. So chances are she probably lives in—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Ryan says.
“But it’s not that far,” I continue. “Philadelphia to Hoboken, or even New York, if that’s where she is? I could take a BoltBus. Or the SEPTA to the NJ Transit, even though it’s hell. We could maybe be in-real-life friends—”
“Dude. Don’t say that. Don’t like, think about how you could find a way to meet her. That makes you—”
“That’s the other point,” I interject. “I also can’t help but think of those trolls that have been attacking her and saying all that shit on social media. I mean, she doesn’t have her location listed in her profile, on purpose, to keep people from harassing her. In the game, on the chat application, on any of her social media stuff...nowhere.” I exhale, shaking my head. “Someone else is bound to figure it out, right?”
Ryan gives me a look.
“I’ll message her.”
He stares at me harder.
“But I won’t be that guy?” I add.
“You’re exhausting. But you might be right,” Ryan admits as we reach the front of the line. He points toward the seating area. “I’ll get the drinks. Go grab a table for everyone.”
RECLAIM THE SUN: CHAT APPLICATION
ME: Hey, ridiculous question, considering everything that happened.
ME: But is everything okay?
ME: I know you didn’t want to talk about it before, but I saw the news and now I know.
ME: And I can’t pretend that someone I’m starting to become friends with isn’t hurting.
ME: Just, you know, checking.
D1V: Hey. Not ridiculous. But no. Everything is a dumpster on fire.
ME: I saw some of those articles. I’m so sorry.
D1V: Thanks.
Ryan pulls a seat out, the hard polished wooden chair squeaking against the stone floor of the café. A large steaming cup of hot chocolate plunks down next to me, and I grab the cardboard sleeve around the white cup. It’s dark and bitter, and I must make a face, because Ryan laughs.
“Sorry, it’s some pure cocoa thing. Might want some sugar for that.”
“You think?” I grab a bunch of raw sugar packets off our table and stir them in, and the result is all kinds of perfect. For a moment, I actually don’t mind that Laura has dragged us clear across town to meet at this place.
“Man, that was fast,” I say, exhaling in post-chocolate-sip bliss.
“The wait is never that bad when you just get regular drinks,” Ryan notes, stirring some sugar into his tea. It’s so strong I can smell the spices. “It’s when you’re in a Starbucks and people show up asking for that Butterbeer drink from Harry Potter or whatever the latest unicorn-flavored nonsense is that they take forever.”
I smile at him and glance down at my phone again. At that “thanks” from D1V.
Do I say anything more? Suggest we load up a game of Reclaim the Sun and go exploring together after this meeting? Ask how her friend is doing? This weird sinking feeling of dread creeps over me, and I have absolutely no idea what to say.
“Did she respond—” Ryan starts, but then my phone chimes. I look back at my screen.
RECLAIM THE SUN: CHAT APPLICATION
D1V: Whenever someone asks me this, I want to set them on fire, so do excuse how this sounds.
D1V: But can you send me a photo of yourself right now?
D1V: A series of them, so I know you didn’t just grab one off a friend’s Facebook or something.
D1V: I legit hate myself for this so please don’t make fun of me.
A picture of me? A series of them? I stare at the screen for a moment, until I feel Ryan peering over my shoulder.
“Are you waiting for something?” he asks, pointing at the phone.
“No, I—”
The app beeps again.
D1V: After the pizza place, those people following me. Coming after Rebekah.
D1V: I need to see who you are. I need to know that you aren’t one of them.
D1V: Even though I know you aren’t. It might not make sense to you, but that doesn’t matter.
D1V: It’s not about you. It’s about me feeling safe.
My heart quickens, and my stomach twists itself up. Not for a second had I considered D1V might feel...unsafe, chatting and gaming with me. That never registered in my brain, not for a minute. When I think about myself, I envision the most unthreatening person imaginable...but that’s me. That’s my perception. And now that I know this is what she’s feeling, I want to help change that as quickly as possible.
I immediately flip to my phone’s camera and take a few selfies. It’s the first time I’ve ever taken photos for someone with no regard to how I look in the picture. This morning was rushed, as I was hurrying out the door to hustle across town, so my wavy black hair is a mess and there’s some stubble peeking through on my cheeks. The hair in between my eyebrows—which are technically just a single solid eyebrow that I meticulously try to maintain as two—is starting to grow back. Also I’m pretty sure I wore this T-shirt yesterday.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
“I could take those for you, you know,” Ryan offers.
“Better yet...” I hold the phone farther away from me, getting Ryan in the shot and switching to video.
“Hey, D1V!” I exclaim, awkwardly waving. “This is Ryan, one of the guys I make video games with. He also doubles as my best friend.”
“Hi,” Ryan says. “Those guys were assholes. I hope you feel... I don’t know, better? Safer? Safe. That’s what’s important here.” He sends me an exasperated look. “You could have given me time to prepare something, dude.” He turns back to the camera. “Please don’t put this on your channel or whatever it is. I’m not a YouTube person.”