Eliza and Her Monsters(10)

I lift my head and glance at my sketchbook. If not Monstrous Sea fanfiction, he was definitely writing something. I reach over, flip the sketchbook open, and grab the paper he stuffed inside.

A normal piece of college-ruled notebook paper. On it, in handwriting surprisingly precise and neat for how quickly he wrote them, the words: Thanks.

The drawings are really good.



emmersmacks: Hold on emmersmacks: Wait

emmersmacks: So you stood up for him?

MirkerLurker: Yeah.

emmersmacks: . . . Im failing to see the issue here E

emmersmacks: Did they hurt you??

MirkerLurker: No . . . not really. Just took my sketchbook and threw it around a little.

MirkerLurker: Okay look I know it doesn’t sound that bad MirkerLurker: But, like, you don’t understand the way this guy looks at me. He’s one of those where it’s like, “Why are you even standing in front of me, you’re uglier than the stuff I crap out after eating too much Chipotle.”

3:19 p.m. (Apocalypse_Cow has joined the message)

Apocalypse_Cow: i feel like i came in at a bad time. i’ll go.

emmersmacks: E is having a crisis

Apocalypse_Cow: crisis over what?

MirkerLurker: Just this stupid new kid at school who may or may not be a fanfic writer for Monstrous Sea and who definitely thinks I am the scum of the earth.

emmersmacks: Why would he think that?? You stood up for him MirkerLurker: I don’t know! Because I emasculated him, probably. Or something. Max, I need advice from someone who’s felt emasculated.

Apocalypse_Cow: why would you immediately assume i’ve felt emasculated before?

MirkerLurker: Because you’re the only male here.

Apocalypse_Cow: if you want to know if some guys feel emasculated when a girl stands up to a bully for them, then unfortunately i must say that yes, that does happen.

Apocalypse_Cow: BUT NOT ME.

Apocalypse_Cow: LET IT BE KNOWN THAT MAX CHOPRA HAS NEVER FELT EMASCULATED.

Apocalypse_Cow: but really, did this guy say something to you? why feel so bad about it?

MirkerLurker: He didn’t say ANYTHING. That’s the problem!

MirkerLurker: He just stood there and wouldn’t even look at me.

emmersmacks: Did you say anything

MirkerLurker: . . . No.

emmersmacks: Well

emmersmacks: E

emmersmacks: There you might have a problem

Apocalypse_Cow: you’re getting schooled in social skills by a twelve-year-old in college. how does that feel emmersmacks: Im fourteen not twelve

emmersmacks: Asshole

Apocalypse_Cow: wait, he left a note in your sketchbook? what did it say?

MirkerLurker: It said thanks, and that the pictures were good.

emmersmacks: OH MY GOD

emmersmacks: THATS WHY HE DIDNT TALK

MirkerLurker: What?

emmersmacks: HE WAS TOO NERVOUS

emmersmacks: AW HE LIKES YOU E

MirkerLurker: I really really doubt that.

MirkerLurker: Like, I mean, REALLY doubt it.

MirkerLurker: He’s not exactly the kind of guy that’s usually interested in me.

Apocalypse_Cow: what kind of guy is usually interested in you?

MirkerLurker: The kind I make up in my head.

Apocalypse_Cow: wooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooow

Apocalypse_Cow: wooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooow Apocalypse_Cow: wooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooooo?ooow Apocalypse_Cow: do you want me to go ahead and fill your house with cats right now, or do you want to put that off for a few years?

MirkerLurker: Har har

MirkerLurker: I have to sit next to this guy in homeroom on Monday. What am I going to say to him?

emmersmacks: What have you been saying to him

MirkerLurker: Nothing. I thought that was clear.

emmersmacks: Then continue doing that

emmersmacks: If he wants to say something to you he will MirkerLurker: Why does a twelve-year-old know more about boys than I do?

emmersmacks: IM FOURTEEN





CHAPTER 6


On Monday I walk into homeroom—past victorious homecoming banners that say WILDCATS ARE THE CHAMPS—and Wallace is already there in the seat next to mine. But Mrs. Grier is there too, and she catches me by the door. Today it’s earrings shaped like shamrocks and a green dress shirt with black slacks.

“How are you this morning, Eliza?” she asks, smiling. It’s seven in the morning, how is she already smiling? I wait for her to continue, but she stands there staring at me like she actually wants to know the answer to that question.

“Um. Okay?” I say. She frowns and leans in. I raise my voice. “Okay.”

“Great! I just wanted to check and make sure everything was going good.”

Just wanted to check? Why? Did she hear about the Travis and Deshawn thing Friday? Wallace wouldn’t have told her about that, would he? When she again doesn’t continue, I shrug and edge my way past her. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with Wallace; I don’t want to deal with teachers worried about bullied students too.

I slide into my seat as quietly as I can, but Wallace looks up from his phone anyway. He lowers his head again, scratches at his neck, looks away. I hold my backpack in my lap and stare at the back of Shelby Lewis’s ginger head. Then, after a few seconds of frozen anxiety, I take out my phone and start going through last night’s long chat with Emmy and Max. I’d text them now, but Emmy’s asleep and Max is at work. They won’t respond anyway, and by the time they do I’ll be out of this situation.