INSTALOVE

Chapter 4: Lowercase (Part 2)

Chapter 4: Lowercase (Part 2)

How do they all know each other already?

I must have said that out loud because Pixie-Cut responds. An array of framed photos hangs on the wall beside her, and she points to the one in the center. I recognize the two girls pictured arm-in-arm: electric blue hair contrasting with a cloud of dark blond curls. "Reese and Eleanor go to school here year round. The rest of us only come for the summer program."

"Don't worry," French-Braid chimes in. "There are other newbies. We just choose not to acknowledge their existence."

They all laugh again. I guess I should be flattered that they nicknamed me. At least "Lowercase" is a step up from the pet name the Senior girls in my high school call me, which is generally some variation of: "who's-that-kid?-I-didn't-even-know-she-went-here."

But why are they even talking to me if I'm some lowly newbie? Why did Reese bring me in here?

Hair-Pouf shifts position and my eyes light on another picture, hanging on the wall behind her head. That side of the room must belong to Eleanor. She's pictured there with her head thrown back in laughter, her back supported by the arm of a familiar-looking boy.

Maddox.

My face goes hot and my breath whizzes in through my teeth. This is bad. Very, very bad. I shouldn't react this strongly to a picture of some boy I barely know.

I quickly look away. I didn't expect to see his face again so soon, that's all. But it occurs to me now that he's the whole reason I'm standing here. Because Maddox—with his easy smile and his astronomical InstaLove Score—vouched for me. He thought of me. Remembered me. Mentioned me.

To Reese.

My eyes slide back toward the desk where she was stooping. Reese stands and ambles toward me, holding up a pair of dark glasses before her eyes. "What's your username?" she asks.

Those glasses are the same kind Maddox wore when I first encountered him. They look like a cross between sunglasses and sky goggles. Only the thickness of the frames and the little blue LED light at the bridge of the nose give away the cutting-edge technology they contain. Not glasses at all, really...

My whole mood lifts. That's why I'm in this room. That's why I'm in this program. To collaborate with other students on amazing projects like this. Reese sought me out because I'm an InstaLove user—and she's working on a mod.

"I'm EllieBelly241," I tell her, taking a step forward. I pat my front pocket, but of course it's empty. "I left my phone in my desk."

"No phone," Reese replies. Her voice is terse, and her mouth forms a grim line (not an easy feat with bubble-gum pink lipstick). The whole top half of her face remains hidden behind the visor as she holds it up to her face. "There. Found you. Password?"

I hesitate. I don't want to be rude, but... seriously? "Why would I—"

"I'm setting up your account," she says, pointing toward the dark lenses. I can't see her eyes, but somehow I can tell she must be rolling them. "You can reset your password afterward. Is it embarrassing or something?"

I blink and look down at my feet. It's not so bad, really. Only embarrassing if you know the story behind it. "Um, it's t-r-e-v-o-r-the-number-four-e-v-e-r."

She repeats it back to me: trevor4ever. "All lowercase?" she asks.

"Yeah," I mumble. Suddenly I'm grateful that the other girls have resumed their conversation, utterly ignoring me. They don't need to know who Trevor is... or why I pathetically use some version of his name in all my passwords.

It occurs to me that I was wrong before. There's actually a third thing, more excruciating than both: A) Declaring your unrequited love to your hopeless crush; and B) Inserting yourself into a preexisting group of friends.

It's called: C) Explaining to a preexisting group of friends about that time you declared your unrequited love to your hopeless crush...and then used his name for your password after he shot you down.

Yay! Fun times!

Thankfully, Reese doesn't question me. She takes off the glasses and holds them out. "You're good to go. Do you know how to use these?"

The answer is no, of course. No, Reese, I've never used a $3,000 virtual reality headset. But I told you how random words come out of my mouth sometimes. We've been over this. So I'm not all that shocked when I hear my voice say, "Um, yeah. Sure."

"Good." She fishes for something in her pocket and pulls out a loop of cord. Black nylon with a silver clip in the center. She gestures for me to put it on over my head. "Probably best if you keep those on a lanyard. Eleanor will kill you if you lose them."

Eleanor? What does Eleanor have to do with—

Some voice inside my head tells me not to ask. I slip the cord around my neck and attach the glasses to the clip, leaving them to dangle by my chest.

"You are now an official beta tester," Reese informs me. "I'll be monitoring your InstaLove usage patterns, so only play it on your glasses. No phone for the next two weeks. Got it?"

"I have to call my parents and stuff."

"You can use the glasses for everything your cellphone does. Fully integrated text and voice communication. You do know how to use them, right?"

"Text and voice communication," I parrot back to her. "Right. Obviously."

Satisfied, she turns her back to me and heads for the girls with the laptop. I'm suddenly aware that I'm the only one in the room standing up. Am I supposed to join those girls on one of the beds, or...?

No, I realize. That was the end of the conversation. Reese turned her attention elsewhere. I'm dismissed.

"OK, see you all later," I say weakly, turning to leave the room. As I exit, it occurs to me that I still don't know their names. No one except for Reese and Eleanor... The other Eleanor. The real Eleanor. The Eleanor whose name serves as punctuation on the end of every conversation. The Eleanor whose specter somehow dominates this place, demanding my renaming, even when she isn't in the room.

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