Shine, Dream, Smile

I'd Rather Sleep

Megan

"You don't have a Face-book account. That's new," says Mara on Friday morning as we get ready for school. We're on my pastel-pink-yellow bed. Mara is combing my hair and twisting the long brown strands into twin plaits.

My back facing her, I sigh heavily. "Yeah. I never needed it since Tessa just emailed me everything school-related. But now.. I don't think I can survive without it."

"There. Done," she says with satisfaction. "Turn around so we can take pictures."

I oblige her. For the next ten minutes, she takes photos of me and vice versa, then we take pictures together. Afterward, she says, "Phone, please."

I hand over my sparkly pink phone to Mara, who asks rhetorically, "How are you meant to stalk your crush if you don't have an online presence?"

My brown eyes glare at her, but she's impervious to my "mean" looks. Tapping at my phone, she asks, "What's your email account?"

"1112Megan_Food_Lover@gmail.com."

Her stare on my phone, she hums to herself, a song I recognize as "Courage," a song that was sung and composed by RM Young, aka Ryan Mason Young Hernandez, aka my younger brother.

"Hmm.. mm.. mm.. Done." She gives me back my phone. "Now, you just need a photo of yourself for your account."

"Oh, um, okay." I scroll through my options, displeased with each picture of myself. I suddenly remember how much I hate having my picture taken. I didn't think it was possible, but I look even fatter an uglier in a screen.

"Don't look into the camera. Gaze out the window or something. And squish your boobs together."

"What?! I am not doing either of those!"

"Why not? I'd kill to have a rack as nice as yours, Meg."

"Mara, you're making this weird."

"Hmm. If you don't like showing your face, then you could use a landscape picture? Or maybe a picture of someone you idolize?"

I think about it. I can't use my mom's or dad's or brother's photos. People will get suspicious.

I reach inside my pocket, pull out a small item, and place it against my pastel-pink-yellow blankets. I display the green four-leaf clover key-chain at a flattering angle, then snap a picture of it, which I set as my first ever DP.

"There. I am officially part of the internet."

"Now you need to add friends. I'll be the first, of course."

"I'll send you a request during lunch. We have to hurry or we'll be late for school."

"Ugh! I'm allergic to mornings and responsibilities!"

"I think I saw a statement shirt with a similar phrase."

Time seems to move slower when you want it to fly fast.

When the four pm bell rings, I dash out of the classroom and rush into the nearest comfort room to change into corporate attire. When I exit the loo, a guy's face swims into view, and I scream.

Mark Gutierrez clamps a rough palm on my mouth, hushing me. "Shut up," he snaps, slowly pulling his hand away from my lips. "You're looking for part-time, aren't you?"

"How did you.."

"Aren't you?"

I nod vigorously. "Yes. But why are you asking?"

"Every place you applied for--they rejected you, didn't they?"

"Now you're creeping me o-"

"Didn't they?"