Page 12 of The Beta Test

31415: Mr. Pi* — caught your spelling error for you. I can roll with that. I *heart emoji* math.

31415: I’ll find a good name for you, don’t worry.

Class starts, so the app gets closed and attention shifts to the lesson. When the teacher announces the date of our first test, a cute little ‘test’ sticker goes into my planner two weeks from now.

A glance at the next few weeks shows Jenna and Jake’s combined birthday party scheduled for next weekend. Mental note: buy gifts. Jenna is usually easy to buy for—a new top, some of her favorite makeup, or a gift card for a manicure (a necessity after volleyball season). But Jake? I can’t remember the last time I bought a gift for him. It was probably a lego set or something a million years ago. Somehow I doubt that's still appropriate. I’ll come up with something.

Chapter Six

The next week blurs by between early morning swim, classes, homework, and babysitting Hunter. Texts fly back and forth with Mr. Pi and my still-without-a-nickname connection. One person I have barely heard from is Braden.

I’m trying not to freak out about it. Truly. But can college be so busy that he can’t take the time to respond to my texts, or spare the time for ONE FaceTime during an entire week? So far this week I’ve gotten a single text a day. One. And the texts I do get aren’t even especially personal or informative. In an effort to find out why he’s gone MIA, I do what any concerned girlfriend would do: a deep dive on his Instagram.

It’s the same account Braden has had for years, so there are a ton of pictures of us together at swim meets and at school over the years. My thumb scrolls until I see one of my all-time favorites—it’s a picture of us on a Ferris wheel at a fair. Our little carriage is stopped at the tippy top of the wheel and we’re kissing, the lights of the fairground twinkling in the background. The air seems to shimmer around us. It’s magical.

Then—something I haven’t done in a while—I open the comments.

Jenna: You guys are disgustingly adorable.

Amanda: Cute!

Josh: *heart emoji* *kissy face emoji*

Jake: *vomit emoji*

Tricia: Is this your HS gf? She’s cute.

Hold on. Who the heck is Tricia? The date on the comment shows it was only made one week ago. Unfortunately, her profile is set to private so spying on her is impossible; her profile picture is too tiny to give me an idea of who she is or what she looks like.

Twenty minutes pass as I obsessively click on all of Braden’s other pictures and scour the comments for more evidence from Tricia. There’s a few here and there about how something looked fun and about us being “adorable.” At the top of his feed, among the MIT pictures he’s already sent me, a few comments jump out that don’t make sense. On the picture of his perfect dorm room:

Tricia: lolololol.

What's so funny?

I stare at the comment like it'll reveal its secrets if I glare hard enough. Her other comments aren't dripping with intellectual depth, so I'm going to go ahead and assume she's not exactly MIT's brightest. Maybe she doesn’t even go there. Do smart STEM guys have groupies? Is it possible she’s a part of some roaming band of young women who glom onto promising future superstars like Braden, hoping to ride his coattails somehow? Poor Braden—he's out there chasing his dreams and this girl is lurking in his comments like she has a claim on him.

I text Braden quickly to let him know how proud I am of him for achieving his dreams, then an alarm previously set on my phone rings. Time to get ready for Jenna’s birthday party!

Stand by Me by Ben E. King filters through the Corolla’s speakers as I hum along. There’s so many cars parked in the Taylors’ driveway and in their cul-de-sac that I have to circle back to look again. Annoyed, I flick the music off and lean forward like that will help me see better in the darkness. Eventually, I give up and park around the corner, halfway down the next street.

Although I packed a duffle bag for sleeping over, I leave it in the car. My gut instinct is telling me there isn’t a sleepover in the cards for me tonight, especially if Jenna’s volleyball friends are staying over. Or maybe I’ll stay. We’ll see. Better to be prepared.

The car beeps locked behind me as I walk down the sidewalk, gift bags bumping my legs. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I fumble the gift bags into one hand and fish the phone out with the other. A text from Braden!

Braden: Hey, baby. I’m going to be super busy this weekend, so I will have to miss our scheduled call. Miss you *heart emoji*

Is he for real? After blowing me off all week, this is the text he chooses to send? I love Braden Patel with my whole heart, but he’s not pulling his weight in this long-distance relationship so far. When he’s back for Christmas we are going to have to have a major heart-to-heart about keeping to our schedule. Maybe we should sign a contract.

I take a deep breath and do a little shoulder shimmy, shaking off the bad feelings Braden’s text caused. Tonight is about having fun, and that’s what I’m going to do.

I’m dressed to impress tonight—high heels, tight jeans, and an emerald wrap top complete my outfit. Unlike my usual fresh-out-of-the-pool look, my hair is curled and left to cascade down my back, and I painted my lips a bold red. Although I’m generally a comfort-over-pinched toes kinda girl, my confidence needs a boost.

On a whim, I take a selfie and text it to Braden. Does he deserve it? Nope. But Tricia has to stay in her place. Braden has a girlfriend and her name is Avery James. Plus, feeding into the negative vibes won’t fix anything. I need to stay positive.

The front door swings open to loud music and a wall of chatter and laughter. The hallway funnels me toward the back of the house—and my jaw drops. Bodies pack practically every inch of the living room and spill out into the backyard. It’s not a surprise that Jenna went big for this party—she said as much—but it’s still a shock to see.

There’s boxes of pizza strewn over the kitchen counter and an assortment of drinks. I do the polite-smile thing while I weave through bodies, then set the gifts down and get myself a soda. The heat radiating from the packed house makes me add a heaping amount of ice to the drink.