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Mateo T. (2:04 a.m.): I freaked out a little bit—a lot of bit, actually.
Wendy Mae G. (2:04 a.m.): lol. ur funny. n really cute. ur mom n dad must be losing their heads 2 rite?
Mateo T. (2:05 a.m.): I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to go now. Have a nice night, Wendy Mae.
Wendy Mae G. (2:05 a.m.): wat did i say? y do u dead guys always stop talking 2 me?
Mateo T. (2:05 a.m.): It’s n
o big deal, really. It’s hard for my parents to lose their heads when my mom is out of the picture and my dad is in a coma.
Wendy Mae G. (2:05 a.m.): how was i supposed 2 kno that?
Mateo T. (2:05 a.m.): It’s in my profile.
Wendy Mae G. (2:05 a.m.): fine, watevr. do u have an open house then? i’m supposed to lose my virginity to my bf but i want to practice first and maybe u can help me out.
I click out while she’s typing another message and block her for good measure. I get her insecurities, I guess, and I feel bad for her and her boyfriend if she manages to cheat on him, but I’m not some miracle worker. I receive some more messages, these with subject lines:
Subject: 420?
Kevin and Kelly. 21 years old. Male.
Bronx, New York (4 miles away).
Decker? No.
Subject: My condolences, Mateo (great name)
Philly Buiser. 24 years old. Male.
Manhattan, New York (3 miles away).
Decker? No.
Subject: u selling a couch? good condition?
J. Marc. 26 years old. Male.
Manhattan, New York (1 mile away).
Decker? No.
Subject: Dying sucks, huh?
Elle R. 20 years old. Female.
Manhattan, New York (3 miles away).
Decker? Yes.
I ignore Kevin and Kelly’s message; not interested in pot. I delete J. Marc’s message because I’m not selling the couch Dad will need again for his weekend naps. I’m going to answer Philly’s message—because it came first.
Philly B. (2:06 a.m.): Hey, Mateo. How’s it going?
Mateo T. (2:08 a.m.): Hey, Philly. Is it too lame to say I’m hanging in there?
Philly B. (2:08 a.m.): Nah, I’m sure it’s rough. Not looking forward to the day Death-Cast calls me. Are you sick or something? Pretty young to be dying.
