Page 26 of The Beta Test

80085 [Me]: That’s possibly the worst poem I’ve ever had the misfortune to read.

80085 [Me]: Make it up to me how? We don’t know who each other is, and we didn’t have plans.

31415: Hmm. Good point. Truth be told, I used an AI chatbot to write that poem, so don’t blame it on me.

A laugh bubbles out of me. Ridiculous! Maybe he did write the poem and was embarrassed, so he attributed it to artificial intelligence.

“What’s so funny?” Analiese’s nasally voice interrupts my thoughts. She’s dressed and wearing her backpack, hobbling towards me on her crutches. Ignoring her or lying are possible options here, but I’m too tired to spin another story, so I simply tell her the truth.

“One of my Connections sent me a terrible poem.”

“Like a love poem?”

I huff. “Of course not. Why would he send me a love poem? We don’t even know each other. It was just something silly about Halloween.”

Analiese frowns in thought. Why does she always have to look so sour?

“This whole Connections thing is weird, isn’t it? One of mine was asking me to help her psychoanalyze her MIA long-distance boyfriend and some butt-dialing situation. At least I assume it is a girl because a high school boy would never think so deeply about such a thing.”

My heart immediately drops into the depths of the earth. Like straight into the earth’s molten core. Melted. Gone.

Is—Analiese⁠—?

No. It can’t be. A drop of sweat beads on my forehead and trails down my temple. There’s no way this can be reality. I thought the D in calculus was catastrophic, but this… this feels life-ending.

Is Analiese Price, my sworn enemy since sixth grade, one of my connections?! Of all the hundreds of people in this school, it had to be her? I confided in her?

My mouth must have been gaping like a fish, which Analiese interprets as interest in her story. She continues.

“I know, right? First of all, who does long distance in high school? Teenagers can barely wait to have a snack, let alone wait for months or years until they can be with the person they supposedly love, if they can even be in love. I doubt that's even possible. I don’t buy into the whole ‘Romeo and Juliet’ thing in high school.” She pauses thoughtfully. “Except you and Braden, naturally.”

The wheels in her head are turning, probably realizing that my relationship with Braden makes me a candidate for her lovesick, pathetic connection. I shake my head, trying to gather my thoughts. It’s absolutely imperative that Analiese does not connect that conversation with me! Time to go on the offensive.

I casually wave a hand, hoping to keep the emotional riot inside my body under wraps. “People grow apart and change. Braden and I knew that was likely to happen, but we keep in touch here and there.”

Lies, lies, lies. I never wanted Braden and me to change!

“Right,” Analiese says flatly. Her gaze feels like a truth-seeking laser beam.

“Anyway,” I tilt my chin, “I’m surprised you have any connections. Don’t you need social interaction and interests to even be matched up with anyone?”

A deep flush stains Analiese’s neck and cheeks, and I immediately feel a tiny prick of shame. Then I remember all the horrible things she’s done to me over the years and shove that feeling down. Too bad I lit the match. Analiese takes a deep breath and unleashes on me.

“You think you’re so much better than me, but you’re not, Avery James. Braden may have been your boyfriend all those years, but he’s gone now and he’s a liar. I know that was you. Who else would it be? It’s so pathetic that you’re sitting around waiting for crumbs of his attention while he parties with other girls. At least I have the self-respect to not settle for something like that.”

My entire body flinches. She keeps going.

“Also, you suck at math and you wouldn’t be able to survive without all your stupid planners. Being organized isn’t a superpower. Get over it and stop being so proud of your ugly stickers.”

A gasp escapes me. She did not just go there!

“Maybe your dad takes jobs halfway around the world because he’s as sick of you as the rest of us.”

With her last parting shot, Analiese shoulder-checks me as she swings away on her crutches.

My breathing feels jagged and uneven; the locker room begins to spin and nausea rises. What if Analiese uses this information against me somehow? I certainly wouldn’t put it past her. I urgently open the zipped pocket in the front of my backpack and pull out a small pouch of M&Ms, immediately tearing into it and stress-eating them in seconds. My shaking hands steady as the sugar hits.

Maybe I needed to talk to the principal about the dangers of this Connection Services business. Surely they would shut it down if students were being bullied?