The Boy In My Head

14

Parker—whoever or whatever he is—doesn't contact me at all on Sunday. I think about him a lot, but I'm able to take my mind off him with a long bike ride. Later that night, my dad asks me about my implant. I don't tell him much because I'm not sure what Parker is yet, and I don't want to scare my father into thinking it's a glitch in the program. I try to coax out of him whether or not there's a therapist function, but I'm apparently too subtle because I don't get a clear answer. At lunch on Monday, people stare at me again. I purposely leave my hair down to hide my implant, but something about the atmosphere in the room makes me want to curl up in a ball and disappear. I'm sure everyone is talking about how Aline humiliated me on Saturday, but I'm lucky enough to sit at a corner table where I can turn away from all the watching eyes. It doesn't make the stares go away, but at least I can't see them. I almost think that I'm overreacting and just being paranoid. Why would people care about me? But the nervous look on J.P.'s face tells me I have a reason to be suspicious of my peers. "They're staring again, aren't they?" I ask J.P. He nods and rubs his neck the way he always does. I give an involuntary shudder. "Oh, it's not all bad," J.P. says. "They're probably considering voting you for homecoming court." I gape at him. "What are you talking about?" "Well, after the way Aline treated you on Saturday, who wants to vote for her?" "So you heard about that?" I poke at my food and don't meet his gaze. "Well, practically the whole school was there." "Except for you," I point out. "I was working," he defends. I stare back down at my food and go silent again.

"By the way," J.P. adds. "I've been keeping an eye on your records like you asked. There's nothing that raises any red flags, but it looks like you've been stressed lately." "Yeah," I agree. "With Aline's party, I have been." "Are you sure it's just stress?" His soft eyes almost don't meet mine, but when they do, he offers a light, encouraging smile. I nod. "I've just been really stressed and embarrassed, I guess." That's enough to make him drop the subject. As I leave the lunch room, I catch Will's eyes again. My heart flutters in my chest. Could he actually be Parker? I honestly don't know. A part of me almost wishes he is. When I get home from school, I take another few painkillers and lock myself in my room to try contacting Parker. I just have to know who he is. Is he a real person? A figment of my imagination? A computer program? Will? I cuddle up on my big cozy chair in the corner of my room and wrap a blanket around my body. I don't know how to make him appear in my head, so I call out a few times. "Parker, are you there?"

There isn't a response for a couple of minutes. I don't know what that means, but finally his voice rings clear in my head. "I'm here. Are you okay?" "I need to know who you are," I demand. "I'm just a friend," he says, which only annoys me. I need the truth. "But what are you? Are you a computer program, or are you a real person?" "I'm just here to listen." My tolerance level is so short at the moment that I want to explode. Why can't he give me a straight answer? But it's not just that that annoys me. Everything about my life has been building up in the last few days, giving me a pounding headache that I can't seem to shake. I'm exhausted, and all I want is for this headache to go away and to maybe actually spend time with someone my own age instead of secluding myself or hanging out with my mom. "Fine," I say. "You say you're here to listen. Well, sit back and relax because it's going to take a while." I don't consider who Parker really is as I divulge all my insecurities and secrets because it's easier that way. I let myself believe he isn't real, but another part of me nervously wants him to be Will. There's something about his anonymity that makes the whole thing easier, though. He stays so quiet that I'm not sure he's still there. A tear runs down my cheek as I tell him about all my problems gaining friends throughout the years and how alone that makes me feel. I don't let my voice waiver, though, so I hope he doesn't notice. "When I was in first grade, I had tons of friends," I tell him. "Even Aline Wright was my friend, but then I got my first implant. I was the first one in my whole grade and the grade above me. At first, I thought my classmates would think it was cool, so I showed it off. Only, it made them jealous. For a few days, I was the talk of my class. Everyone wanted to see how my implant worked. "And then Aline stopped talking to me. She made up this stupid club, but I wasn't allowed because I had the implant. She promised cookies to all the members and even had this huge sleepover I wasn't invited to. I know it's really dumb because it was, like, 10 years ago, but thinking back on that, it still hurts." I take a deep breath. "Are you still there?" "I'm still here," Parker says. "The thing is that I've tried to make friends over the years. Just last Saturday I sat by a group of girls at Aline's party. I don't think they wanted me there, though. They just talked about boys who I didn't know and didn't really acknowledge me." "What about J.P?" Parker asks. "J.P. is great and all, but we never have much to say to each other." "Maybe if you would open up to him more about things like this, he could be your friend." I laugh because the idea sounds so ridiculous. "The only reason I'm opening up to you is because I don't know if you're human or not. Right now, it's easier to believe that you're just a computer program." I pause for a moment. "What are you?" Just then, my watch buzzes. It's a message from my mom telling me it's dinner time. My head still pounds as I rise from my chair. Only when I get to the dining room do I realize something. I never once mentioned J.P. to Parker. That thought scares me, but it could honestly mean anything. It could mean Parker is someone I know, like Will. Or it could mean the computer program can read my thoughts outside of what I share with it. Or it could just mean Parker is a part of my subconscious and he already knew about J.P. I try a more direct approach with getting answers from my father at dinner. "Dad?" "Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a hypothetical question?" "Sure," he says with narrowed eyes, like he doesn't know where I'm going with this. "Let's say that you created an upgrade that had a therapist application." He stops with his fork halfway to his mouth. "That's actually a really good idea. I don't know why we've never thought of that. I'm going to bring that one up with the team." Okay. Well, that at least tells me Parker isn't part of a computer therapist program. Dad would know about him otherwise. "Well, I was thinking, if you had something like that, would the program be able to read your thoughts?" "You're not turning into a conspiracy theorist, are you?" "What? No. I'm just saying . . ." "I suppose in theory, a program like that could. I mean, we're able to transfer simple thoughts into commands, so why not be able to read your thoughts? But the ethics committee would never allow that. We would especially never allow a program like that to store your thoughts that you didn't share with it freely." I nod in understanding, but I still have so many questions. I want to tell my dad about Parker, but what if he isn't a result of the implant? What if he's just a figment of my imagination? "I've also been wondering about the call function on our implants. Would it ever be possible to create a sort of psychic link between two people so they could communicate on a different level than what we have now?" "What do you mean?" I think about how when Parker talks to me in my head, it feels different than when Mom and I tested out our calling function. "Could they communicate, like, directly through the program, more efficiently? Maybe by thinking things to each other rather than by speaking out loud." "I suppose in theory, it would work, but we aren't that far yet. Why the sudden interest?" "I, uh, have just been thinking about my implant and want to understand the extent of its capabilities." That seems like enough of an explanation for my father, and he goes back to eating. I'm not entirely sure what these answers mean in regards to Parker. He can't be a computer program since he knew about J.P. when I never said anything, right? Or, what if an error slipped through the ethics committee? But Dad said they didn't have that type of therapist program. He also said they were far away from creating types of psychic connections. I have no idea what to make of this! That means he's just a figment of my imagination, right? But he feels so genuine. I go to bed thinking about Parker and the possibilities of his identity.