Chatting

Cezille07

Well, if I give you an introduction, tell you the truth about this story, you might not read it. So read it first, then check my profile for the notes.

Disclaimer: Still the same.

CHAPTER 1: The Transition

Her first day away from New York.

Looking outside her window, she can see a long street lined with quiet houses on each side, with little life on the sidewalks—no children in yards, no cars spewing carbon dioxide.

Elena sighed. She had spent her entire life in New York. Why her parents decide to move, she still hadn't asked. But her dad had a new job in the supermarket, while her mom was seeing the doctor more than once a week—becoming frequent with the birth of her siblings (sibling, with the 's', twins) drawing near.

She threw herself on the bed. Her YM was on, but none of her friends were. Not a message, not a hint of remembrance of her being far away and in total seclusion.

"Hey what's this?" she mumbled.

Someone had sent her a message.

"Hey."

"That's it? Who are you?" The username gave little clue as to the identity of her chatmate, but for certain it wasn't any of her friends'.

"What's up?" she replied all too hastily.

"Not much. You doing anything?" asked Loner07.

"No, how 'bout you?"

For a moment she expected a faithful reply, a sign that at least one person in the world had the patience and interest to be chatting with her. But she got nothing, not in a minute, not in an hour. Disappointed, she shut down her laptop and went downstairs to get a drink.

She was still lying down. It was 6 PM, with the boredom threatening to push her over to insanity.

"Charlie," she whispered, closing her eyes. If she could wait a little longer he was sure to come and cheer her up, as he always did except for when his parents were on a mission playing golf. "But I'm too old for an imaginary friend...."

"No you're not," a voice said.

Her eyes fluttered open. "I'm sorry." She sat up and found Charlie sitting on the far corner of her bed, looking cheery, but most importantly not offended. "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay. You need someone," he said, pocketing a pair of white gloves—he must have been on the mission as well. "Maybe it's just I'm not the one you need. You're looking for a real person who can bear with you."

You got that right, she thought, rather guiltily. All I ever wanted was at least one person....

There was a knock on the door. "Elena, dinner will be ready in ten minutes," said Julie, her head peeking into the room.

"Okay, thanks Mom," she replied absently.

"And I hope your things are ready for school tomorrow," her mother added before leaving the room.

Oh no, you had to remind me! How they got her enrolled into the nearby school baffled her as much as moving away from her old home.

The school bell had just about rung.

"Be strong, Potato! You're going to be great!" her father said as he gave her a hug.

Her mother kissed her cheek and told her, "No fighting, Elena."

Fights? I'm too new to be fighting, and too homesick to beat people up.

And they drove away.

She ambled slowly to the main doors, tried to put off being a new student off for as long as she could. But there they were, the list of classes and students in them. There it was, the classroom she'd be stuck in for the next few months—or years, hoping her parents don't abruptly move again, unless it was back to New York.

"Hi! You must be new. I'm Mattie!" a girl about her age but in a dreadful aura, said, followed by her companion's, similar in dress and attitude, greeting, "We can help you find your way, show you who's who, who and what's cool or not, and where to go. I'm Patty, by the way!"

Elena grimaced at their superficiality. "No thanks. I already know two people to avoid." She walked past them into the crowded room bearing her class name.

Every time she occupied that backmost seat off to one corner she was filled with a horrible, sickly nostalgia. But for what? All her life she never really did have many friends, spent far too much time alone. The few attempts she made at talking with a seatmate always turned out terribly awkward. She often blamed circumstance—we're both new, we're busy with studying—but at the end of the day she felt sorry for herself for being too shy for most time and being too aggressive at best.

"Excuse me, Elena?"

It was her teacher, Ms. Swift, reminding her to return to chaotic reality, to the humdrum of a boring, dull and dreary life.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Could you please introduce yourself for the class before we begin?"

Another reason why she hated being new. They took care of you for the first few days, and ignore you after they see you're getting by well on your own.

She stood up. "My name's Elena Potato."

The class erupted in ear-piercing laughter, as she expected.

Ms. Swift only managed to suppress the last few bursts of diaphragmatic loss of control to add, "Anything else?" They all waited, ready to burst into laughter again. "Anything, we'll get to know you better."

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

Elena swallowed. "I'm just a normal person!"

The class held the silence.

"Er, thank you, have a seat," Ms. Swift offered, and avoided any further eye contact with her for the rest of the day.

That night, Loner07 was online. He or she had flooded her YM with unread offline messages the night before.

"Just typing, nothing to do as well."

"You like music?"

"Hey, you there?"

"LNa, if you're there please say something."

"Oh, sorry to bother you. I told you I had nothing to do right now, bored as hell."

Elena smiled. So he or she did reply. She added him or her as a contact and typed a message. "Hey there! How are you? I had a terrible day. Like always."

She paused. Was it too personal? Did she have the right to be chatting so casually—so personally—with someone she's never met except online?

Heck, I trust you. You're my only hope.

He or she replied faster than expected. "Well you're not alone, then. Me, just hanging."

For some reason she couldn't help but smile broadly. He or she was one of the few faithful people left in the world who would always be around to answer her messages, no matter how simple.