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Jerkwad:And who are you?
Me: I’m a sister, a daughter, and a friend. I love literature and old movies. I don’t care about clothes or shoes, and I loathe pop music. I’d rather listen to indie rock any day than the latest JustinBieber. I hate sports. I’d much prefer to read outside on a beautiful day in the summer than go swimming at the pool with friends. I’m comfortable in silence. It gives my mind room to breathe. And I’d rather be myself than pretend to be something I’m not just to fit in.
I hit send before I realized my mistake, that I was supposed to be pretending, not telling the truth.
No!I tapped on my screen as if I could take it back. With my luck, I just said something incriminating. Or not entirely. He still wouldn’t know it was me, but I had no idea how well he had gotten to know this Julie person at the party. Maybe she talked incessantly about how she had five brothers and hated books. She could be on the swim team or known for her loud mouth.
So when his reply came through, I tensed as I read.
Jerkwad:Wow. You sound . . . pretty amazing.
My stomach flipped as I absorbed his words. They were right there in black and white.Amazing. I never had a boy call me amazing before, and it figured it would be by a guy I loathed. One who thought I was someone else entirely and probably pretty enough to grace the cover of Teen Magazine.
Swallowing, I typed,You’rejust saying that because you know I’m hot. If I looked like a troll, you’d think otherwise.
Jerkwad:LOL No. Good looks are overrated.
Liar.
Me:That’s easy to say when you’re one of the hot ones.
Jerkwad:Are you calling me hot?
Psht, as if . . . But I couldn’t say that. This girl liked him enough to agree to a supposed date and give him her number, so I wrote back:You’re super popular, a jock, and, from what I gathered, one of the most wanted guys at Lakeview. You don’t need me to tell you girls think you’re hot.
My cheeks burned as I waited for his response.
Jerkwad:It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness.
I caught my breath as the text came through, then glanced around my room, certain I was being pranked. Maybe this was really someone else pretending to be Topher like I was pretending to be Julie because there was no way this was the same boy from school.
I exhaled a shaky breath and replied.
Me:Tolstoy?
Jerkwad:Guilty.
Me:Now you’re just trying to show off.
Jerkwad:All I was trying to do was make the point that just because you’re good looking, doesn’t make you a good person.
Me:Touché.
I stared at my phone a moment, unsure of what to say next. This was by far the most bizarre conversation I’d ever had in my entire life.
When I noticed the little gray dots dancing once more on my screen, my insides squeezed, and I hurried to beat him to it. I wasn’t sure how much of this new version of him I could handle. Everything that came out of his mouth was unexpected and it was giving me whiplash trying to keep up.
Me:Well, Igottago. Homework is calling.
The dots on his end disappeared, and there was a pause before they returned again, followed by a text.
Jerkwad:K. But I’m not even close to being doneconvincing you. TTYL?
I debated typing something back, then thought better of it and quickly powered down my phone, lest I give into temptation.
What in the worldwasthat?
I blinked into the silence of my room, trying to wrap my head around the conversation we just had. Everything he said had been so unlike the boy I knew him to be. Topher down playing his good looks and popularity. Topher quoting Virginia Woolf and Tolstoy. Topher most clearlytryinghis best to impress a girl whom he thought to be intelligent. Topher saying I sounded amazing.Me. Not Julie or Gabby or another one of the girls that worshiped him.
