I was born nosy—knowing Mom, it must be in my genes—so my eyes stray over to see what’s funny. There’s a stream of messages popping up, heart and laugh reacts appearing in close succession. A wave of envy washes over me. I’ve never really been in a group chat.
My three roommates in New York had one where we messaged one another occasionally about being out of toilet paper. But it wasn’t the same as the other group chats I’d see them talking in sometimes, smiling at their screens, phone buzzing every few seconds with notifications.
I think Ruby has a hard time connecting with people,my third-grade teacher told Mom once, pulling her aside after class.
I’ll make sure she makes more of an effort,Mom said, tugging me firmly away.
No, I mean,the teacher said,that’s not exactly what—
But Mom probably looked so intense and filled with purpose that the teacher realized it wasn’t worth arguing.
And then, like I conjured her, a Slack notification slides onto the top of my phone screen.
sampaguita72:
Were you flirting with Greg earlier?
I scrolled up and saw!
Aren’t you over that by now?
Every part of my body resting against this conference room chair clenches, and I resist the urge to write back:I wasn’t!
It has to be an elaborate scam. A way to extort me. Truly sick and twisted.
sampaguita72:
Why not Sam from Sales? He seems like a nice boy. Makes more money.
God, this cannot go on.
ruby.ocampo:
Look, I don’t know who you are, but this is cruel and unusual, impersonating my dead mother! Hope you’re ashamed of yourself!
Itfeelslike her, though. I might as well be fifteen again.
I scroll back up in the DM with myself, and unlike this morning, all the messages from yesterday are back again, clear as day, like they never left.
Right then, a message from Greg rolls in.
greg.de.leon:
ruby, are you okay?
Goosebumps rise on my arms. That old psychic link, again.
But I’m too overwhelmed to deal with him, so I write:
ruby.ocampo:
I am very busy right now
Erica is glaring at me, so I put my phone in Do Not Disturb and tuck it under my notebook.
“Okay!” she exclaims, clapping to punctuate. “Our guest is running late, but let’s get started.” She sweeps a hand in my direction. “I know we’re all so glad to have Ruby here with us, after the tragic events of a few months ago.”
I fight the urge to slump down in my seat, or maybe limbo straight under the table.
