Daisy
14 years old
FadedDaisy: You there, Gatsby?
My heart leapedwith joy at the three dots bobbing, indicating he was typing.
SadboyGatsby: I’m here. How was your day? Dancing today?
FadedDaisy: *Eyeroll* I dance every day. But no, I didn’t have rehearsals today, just home practice. What were you up to today?
He typed, then deleted, thentyped again.
SadboyGatsby: Boring. School, then work. Finally able to sit down and relax. What book did you choose for us to start reading?
I sighed, leaning back in my chair, my hands falling from the keyboard. His mom had been making him work every day after school, and during summer, winter, and spring breaks, since he was thirteen. He barely had a childhood, it seemed.
FadedDaisy: How do you feel about Edgar Allan Poe?
I glanced at the large book sitting beside my keyboard. I’d found his complete works in my Nona’s library.
SadboyGatsby: We read the raven in school. It was ok.
School. How envious I was of him that he got to attend public school with other kids our age. Nona homeschooled me. She didn’t like me to leave the house. If she could have convinced the Madame to host rehearsals here, I’d never leave.
FadedDaisy: I bet if we were in class together, we would have laughed through the whole thing.
SadboyGatsby: Oh definitely. We’d sit in the back and shoot paper footballs at the people in front of us.
The night went on like it did every night. We messageduntil he absolutely couldn’t anymore, which was around midnight.
FadedDaisy: Good night, Gatsby
SadboyGatsby: Get some sleep, Daisy.
I went to my bed, where I lay, staring up at my ceiling. It was still covered in the stars my mother had painted on them when I was an infant. She died shortly after, and Dad and Nona never thought to redecorate. Other than the updated furniture, everything in my room was just as it had been when it was my nursery.
I fell asleep, dreading the morning. I didn’t dream. It was very rare that I dreamed. I was so exhausted from the rigid dancing schedule my Nona had me on that my body couldn’t give any more energy to things so whimsical. I blacked out and awoke in the morning, feeling incredibly empty.
I went through the motions, breakfast, dancing, school, lunch, dancing, dinner, dancing, then bathing and finally free time. Before Gatsby, all I did was read until I fell asleep. But now, I had a glimpse of the outside world through his words. It was beautiful, hearing his stories about his friends and school. It was the best part of my day, logging in to see a message waiting for me.
SadboyGatsby: I was able to get to the library today to borrow the book you have. I can’t wait to read with you.
I smiled and replied quickly.
FadedDaisy: Same here. How was your day?
SadboyGatsby: Alright. Mom got me some new sketchbooks and pencils. I spent the day drawing.
FadedDaisy: Your mom seems nice. What’s the occasion? Birthday?
Gatsby was picky with what he told me about his life. Which was understandable, considering we were total strangers, really. I knew his hopes, dreams, and what he liked and didn’t, but I knew nothing of his family, or friends, or what he did for fun, outside of drawing. It felt entirely unfair sometimes, as I told him everything.
SadboyGatsby: She’s not.
Oh. I blinked. While it was just text on a screen, I could hear the cold words. I wasn’t sure how to reply. Finally, I put my hands to the keyboard.
FadedDaisy: I feel that. Nona is more of an instructor than grandma. Sometimes I wonder if she was the same way when my dad was growing up.
