A wave of unease washes over me, causing my grip on the phone to tighten. My mind races, desperately searching for some kind of explanation. Because I hardly ever get texts, least of all threatening ones. It must be some kind of sick joke, a prankster who just happened to pick my number. But how? And why? I’m not exactly important here, so it wouldn’t do them any good. I can’t even begin to understand why someone would send a message like that, especially since Ihadfelt something was off yesterday.
I let out a nervous chuckle. “Wrong number,” I mutter under my breath, trying hard and inevitably failing at convincing myself that it’s nothing more than a tasteless, dumb prank.
But another message comes through.
Do you want to know what really happened to your father?
My heart plummets. Did someone hear what happened to my father, and is now trying to taunt me as a sick joke?
It must be.
Then why doesn’t it feel like it?
My heart pounds in my chest, and a knot forms in the pit of my stomach. The more I try to convince myself it means nothing, the deeper the awful, bitter realisation sinks in. If it’s such a joke, why does it feel so invasive? So personal, to the point I feel sick.
How dare they? I glance around the classroom, my eyes darting from one face to another, searching for any signs. Any signifiers. Anything at all. Because for all I know, they could even be here, hidden behind a façade. Watching. In fact, that’s actually a massive possibility.
Maybe.
But before I can even regain my composure, or at the least slow the ruthless beating of my heart, the teacher’s voice pulls me out of whatever horrified state I was in.
“Miss, phones are strictly prohibited in my classroom. I suggest you put it away immediately.”
Everyone’s gaze turns to me again.
SEVEN
Rule Number Four ofAdeline’s Guide to Overcoming Loneliness:Adeline, write down what you’re feeling. It doesn’t have to be pretty or even make sense, but just get it out—onto paper, onto your phone, anywhere. Seeing your thoughts can make them smaller.
“Hey, Adeline, is everything okay?” Lilia asks, her concerned gaze directed at me.
Her brows furrow, and she leans closer, her voice filled with genuine worry, and I hesitate, my instincts telling me to confide in Lilia, to tell her everything and let her help me. Help. Maybe that’s all I need. Or maybe I just need to grow up and handle it myself, because getting people involved in my situations has never done anyone any good. And she’s been so nice, and she doesn’t deserve to be dragged into my problems.
And so, as quickly as the thought surfaces, I push it down.
For her.
“Oh, no, it’s nothing. Just had a rough night’s sleep, that’s all. I’ll be fine,” I reply, brushing off her concern with a forced smile and a heavy heart.
Lilia studies me intently, her eyes reflecting a hint of scepticism. She seems to sense that something isn’t right but clearly, she respects my decision not to share it. I appreciate her concern, really I do, but there’s no way I’m ever going to burden her with my stupid paranoia. If that’s what this is.
Maybe I’m already being a burden? Maybe by talking about Kai, that brought her trouble? The thought hurt. Mainly because it was since she had mentioned that people tended to stay away. And now I had just gotten her involved.
“Alright, Adeline,” she says softly. “Just know that if you ever need to talk, everyone needs friends sometimes.”
“Friends?” I swear I could jump around like a crazy person right now. I’m sure I would have, had she told me this in a different setting.
“Well of course, what else would we be?” she says with a smile so warm I swear I feel it.
“I-I’m not sure,” I say honestly, staring at her with pure joy. Because I know I should probably be worried right about now. About the messages, about everything… but I’ve just made a friend. On my first day.
Would you look at that, we’re making progress.
***
I hastily gather my belongings and follow Lilia out of the classroom as soon as the bell rings. But the unsettling message continues to haunt my thoughts, clawing at the edges of my mind like some kind of annoying pest. I try to brush it off as simply a tasteless prank. A joke, or a pathetic attempt at one.It’s nothing, I tell myself. But the damage is done—the unease has been planted and it’s simply too late.
It’s nothing.
