Page 58 of The Beta Test

Charming dimples.

Warm, steady hands.

A rescue mission, complete with guacamole and fried dough and a bet.

The thought propels me up with a small surge of energy. Among all the other things happening… I’d completely forgotten. I’m supposed to make him a shirt to wear with my name on it. Would he still want to wear it if he learns the truth about me?

But… he does know. He knows I need help with calculus. He knows about Braden. And he knows about Jenna. Despite it all, he’s been there. The cold that filled me earlier starts to dissipate.

My school tablet dings from its perch on my desk next to the discarded cookies I brought upstairs. The nausea churning in my stomach wouldn’t let me eat them.

31415: Hey, stranger. Long time no chat. Any plans this weekend?

Yes, I’ve locked myself in my room, and I’ve given up on all my hopes and dreams. Obviously, I’m not going to say that. Mr. Pi doesn’t need to be brought down into the depths with me. Our conversations have always been fun and frivolous. Like the cookies, the sound of that doesn’t appeal at all.

I look at my phone, hoping to see a text from Jake, but there’s nothing. Maybe Operation Cookies was too much for him to deal with. Can’t blame him if it was.

My fingers move on autopilot. Not because I feel like chatting. Maybe the electrical pulses are still making all the decisions. Doesn’t matter either way.

80085 [Me]: You offering to give me plans if I don’t have any?

31415: Sure.

That catches me off guard. I expected him to deflect or joke, not offer something real. Do I want to meet in person? We go to the same school, which means the truth is one conversation away. The thought should be exciting. Instead, it terrifies me. What if the person behind the number is a stranger who wants nothing to do with the real me—the me who's curled up in the dark with a pile of uneaten cookies and a failed vision board?

Not for the first time, I wish 31415 was someone I already know. Someone safe. My mind drifts to Jake before I can stop it, and the warmth that follows feels dangerously close to the warmth I felt a few minutes ago.

He sends another message.

31415: But maybe you’re not ready for that yet, which is fine. Let’s just talk instead. Tell me something I don’t know about you.

80085 [Me]: Um… ok

My eyes flit around my room, looking for inspiration. It’s fully dark now, but the shapes are there. The vision board, a bookshelf, the dresser, my laundry basket—nothing inspires any ideas and deeper thought hasn’t come back online yet.

But there… the rectangular shadow taped to the side of the mirror. I know what it is—a picture of Jenna and me dressed up for Halloween two years ago, me as Elizabeth Bennet and her as Mr. Darcy. Our smiles light up the picture. It’s too dark to see but it’s there, in my memory.

80085 [Me]: I’m a horrible friend.

80085 [Me]: How’s that for a fun new fact?

31415: Not so sure that’s ‘fun’, but maybe it’s something you feel is true. I doubt it is.

31415: In fact, I’m biased. I like talking to you, and I’d like to think we are friends.

My heart flutters lightly at his words, like an electrical misfire. My fingers keep moving.

80085 [Me]: No, it is. It definitely is. Objectively true.

31415: Hmmm. I need evidence.

A finger taps against the edge of the tablet. The demolition of my longest-running friendship has been thorough. But… that’s not all. Long before Braden was my boyfriend, he was also my friend. Maybe I took a hammer to my relationship with Braden too. The pressure of schedules and check-ins and calls… without stopping to consider if that’s something he also wanted. Am I the common denominator in all of this?

The light of the Connection Services screen beckons me.

80085 [Me]: I told my best friend I’d come to her game and I didn’t. I hung out with someone else instead without even telling her.

80085 [Me]: I don’t answer her calls or texts and hide from her at school. I haven’t told her any of the things I’m struggling with, even though I know she’d support me any way she could.