Dear Seaweed Brain,

I've decided that I detest life. I mean, it's one thing to find out your mom's having an affair, watch your sobbing father sign the divorce papers, and then get told you're moving to gods-know-where, but on your sweet sixteen? That's just cruel.

Life sucks.

-Wise Girl

Dear Wise Girl,

That has got to be the most depressing thing I've ever read. And seeing as I've been writing to you for almost ten years, that's saying something. (No offense. The world needs pessimists, right?)

I've already told you about my ex stepdad and his mountain of faults as a human and husband alike, so you know I can relate. Life's shitty.

I am not a psychiatrist, just a humble junior trying to make it through high school, but my medical advice would be to buy a tub of ice cream and indulge.

Happy birthday.

-Seaweed Brain.

Dear Seaweed Brain,

Though I seriously doubt you have ever been humble, I've taken your advice. About halfway through the carton, I snapped and started flinging spoonfuls of 'Blair's Best Choco Cream' at a picture of my mom—which, coincidentally, was taken out of its custom waterproof frame and tacked to the wall. She looked like she swallowed a lemon when she came in a few minutes ago. I have no regrets.

-Wise Girl

Dear Wise Girl,

You are my personal hero.

-Seaweed Brain

P.S. For the record, I was humble once. I would be happy to brag about that time of my life if you want.

Dear Seaweed Brain,

I'm sitting on an airplane in economy class—thanks to my mom refusing to pay for nicer tickets—and waiting for take off. Goodbye school, goodbye friends, goodbye California (yes, I am breaking our agreement to not reveal where we live, but as it's no longer home, it doesn't matter anymore).

Cheers.

-Wise Girl

Annabeth snapped her laptop shut. She had been tempted not to bring the computer—it being a birthday gift from her mom—but had eventually packed it, knowing that it was going to be her only luxury for a long time.

Beside her, Frederick Chase gave a slightly hopeful, slightly tired smile. It was as if he thought he could hide all the heartbreak and pain from his daughter by lifting the corners of his mouth.

She turned away from him and slipped her earbuds in, upping the volume until Dan Reynolds belting voice blocked out the fellow passengers meaningless chatter, their shuffling bodies and bags, and the small, choked sob that was released from her father's throat just before the plane took off.

The apartment was roughly the size of her bedroom back home.

Annabeth stood in the doorway and stared at the pitiful layout: a kitchenette that held a microwave, toaster, and rusting sink; two doors that led to bedrooms slightly bigger than her old queen sized bed; a living room that wouldn't fit two couches; a bathroom with grimy tiles and mold growing in the sink.

"It's a pretty great find, isn't it?" Frederick said in a falsely cheerful voice. "Right in the middle of the big city. That's where you find the best neighbors."

She decided not to mention the trio of men whose eyes had been fixed on her chest as they entered their building.

"I'll make some dinner," he said, his voice still high and fake. "Why don't you go set up your room?"

There wasn't much setting up to be done. She hadn't been able to bring most of her stuff from California, so all she had to do was put her box of clothes in the corner and drop a few blankets on the bare floor. Her father had promised to buy a cheap bed on the way, but since they were already here and she could hear him crying quietly, she knew it wasn't happening.

Instead of listening to her father's muffled sobs, Annabeth put her earbuds in again and opened her laptop. There were no new messages from Seaweed Brain on Tumblr. Since she had nothing else to do, she decided to go through his feed.

She had known Seaweed Brain for ten years, and so she wasn't surprised by the flood of reblogged marine animals. Most of them were weird endangered creatures that even a marine biologist would be hard pressed to name, but she was able to recognize a couple varieties of sharks he had told her about.

His other posts were also familiar. Sprinkled in between animals like the vampire squid and the immortal jellyfish were sarcastic one liners, pictures of random beaches, the rare skateboarding gif, and an occasional word entry.

She stopped at one near the top, posted just that morning.

When in doubt, buy ice cream. A friend once told me that both eating and throwing 'Blair's Best Choco Cream' is a very reliable coping method.

Annabeth's lips twitched, but she wasn't able to form a smile. She clicked the heart icon and quickly typed up a comment.

Seaweed Brain is 100% correct. You will be at risk of gaining five pounds—like I did—but the satisfaction is worth it.

"Annabeth!" Frederick called. "Dinner's ready!"

Closing her laptop, she fought back the pit of hard anger that formed at her father's fake, cheerful voice. Anger wouldn't be productive. Not here, not now. Still, when she saw what he had waiting on two paper plates, she had to fight back a biting retort.

Since they had no oven, her father's genius plan had been to microwave frozen pizza. The crust had the taste and texture of sandpaper and the middle was still frozen solid.

"I think we'll be happy here," Frederick said around a mouthful of frozen pepperoni. "It was really nice of your mom to help us find this place."

Annabeth gave him an incredulous look.

He tried to backpedal. "Okay, so it's a bit small, but she really did her best with our budget—"

"Stop!" Annabeth said. "Are you even listening to yourself? It's pathetic!"

His eyes were filling with tears again. "Annabeth—"

"No. She abandoned us. She cheated on you and took the house and money and left us with nothing. Just look around! There's not even—AHH!" Annabeth shrieked as a small, furry creature ran across her plate of pizza. She scrambled to her feet and stumbled backward.

Frederick lunged for the mouse, but it was already scurrying across the floor, dragging half a crust behind it. It disappeared into a hole in the wall.

They stared in shocked silence at the hole for several long moments before he said, "Well...you always did want to have a pet."

She rounded on him. "You...I…argh!" She threw her hands in the air and stomped to her bedroom, making sure to slam the door behind her. She pressed her back against the wall, slid to the floor, and hugged her knees to her chest. It was only after she heard his bedroom door close softly that she allowed a single tear to slip out.

Just one, she told herself. Just one tear.

But then another came. And another. And another, until she was covering her mouth with her hand to muffle the sobs.

It was so unfair. Her mom being a freaking slut, her dad acting like everything was sunshine and roses, being moved across the country and forced to share a home with rodents.

Her laptop chimed.

Wiping her nose with her sleeve, Annabeth scooted toward the laptop and opened the message notification.

Dear Wise Girl,

Five pounds, huh? I am in awe of your ice cream eating skills.

-Seaweed Brain.

She gave a shaky laugh. How did he always know the right thing to say? Pulling the laptop onto her lap, she typed a response.

Dear Seaweed Brain,

Okay, maybe it wasn't a whole five pounds, but I still feel heavier. Or maybe it's just the added weight of knowing a pizza stealing mouse is still hanging around. Don't worry, though. The ten pounds I cried off should help balance it out.

-Wise Girl

Annabeth never admitted about crying to anyone but him. Usually it made her feel weak for others to know she had finally broken down, but it wasn't like that with him. Maybe it was because they only communicated through a screen. Or maybe it was just him.

Dear Wise Girl,

I honestly don't know what to say to that, so here:

Underneath was a gif from the old cartoon Tom and Jerry—one of her favorites, as he well knew—with Jerry being chased across a table laden with food.

And for the record, having a mouse steal your food is a perfectly acceptable reason to cry. That, and moving after your parents divorce. ;)

-Seaweed Brain

Annabeth closed her laptop and watched as the blue icon slowly dimmed to nothing. "Thanks, Seaweed Brain," she whispered.

Curling up under a blanket, her back against the cold floor, she took comfort in knowing that somewhere, lying under the same sky, was a boy who cared.