The Moments

Chapter Seven

JORDAN WILLS

Hi and welcome to the Jordan Wills one step guide of how to talk to girls. Step one: Don't ask Jordan Wills.

Some people might find it odd that I spent a good hour trying to find the name and social media of a girl I have had exactly 2 chance encounters with. They would be even more disturbed to find that the first of said encounters occurred whilst she was unconscious. In fact, any normal person would likely label me a complete weirdo for such a sudden onset obsession with a complete stranger. Thank god I haven't surrounded myself with normal people.

I'm on the phone with Lisa Mayan. She is the second of my two friends. She, unlike Nick, is very dissimilar to me in a lot of ways. That's why her advice to me is so good. Because when two people on opposite ends of a thought process spectrum spitball solutions, they land somewhere perfect. Maybe it takes some screaming and a blunt or two, but ideas spark.

"So wait, how did you find her Instagram?" she giggles.

"Does it matter? Point is, I found her. Now what?" I've spent too long searching for her social media not to do something about it.

"Follow her, obviously."

"Already done. I mean, what do I say to her?"

There's a brief pause and I can hear Lisa breathing. I can't see her, but I know that right now she is in her room sitting at her desk. Her hair is in two long, dark braids and her bright eyes are reflecting the computer screen in front of her. I can hear her fingers typing rapidly. She's only half paying attention to me, but then again, I can't recall a moment in my life when she wasn't.

"You don't say anything. You wait until you go back there next week and try to introduce yourself." She pauses again, this time the typing stops too. She's probably reading her work. I don't know how she does it, types and talks. The ability to multi task is beyond me. I'm a one thing at a time kind of guy. "Where is there anyway? Where did you meet her and why will you both be there again next week?"

Oops. I bite my lip and dart my eyes to my reflection in the mirror. I give myself a look, as though to say, dude, we have a problem. My limited time excuses are rough, proven by yesterday's therapy session. I think for a moment, the silence is suspicious and if I'm not careful, she might get worried and start asking more questions.

"It was a music class thing. Group guitar lessons and I'm actually not sure if she'll be there next week." The last part is true. Part of me knows that I should hope she's not there, but I've said it before and I'll say it again, that would leave me wondering why she's not there. Either it's a good thing or a bad thing and I'm certain my mind would go to bad. At least I can now message her via Instagram. Then I consider that if I was really worried she might be dead, would I want to know for certain? I tense up a little.

"Send me a picture of her. Just to make sure she's a real person. You're sounding a little shady right now," she laughs.

"She doesn't have any pictures on her Instagram."

"Then how do you even know it's hers!?" Her volume goes up, but she's laughing now. I recognize that the whole thing is pretty pathetic. It's even more pathetic if she knew how we really met.

"Because it's the only account under the name Madelyn Sheen," I retort. "Look, I called for help, not to be accused of making up a fake girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" She breaks into yet another fit of laughter. I can hear her clapping her hands as she giggles. I roll my eyes with the phone still at my ear as I wait it out.

Here's the thing about Lisa, for as long as I can remember, she's been a great and loyal friend to me and Nick. She's always been around because she was a bit outcasted, like us, except not like us. Her personality wasn't a problem, because unlike me, she was able to hide her weird and pretend to fit in. She was outcasted because of her looks, more specifically, her size. She was big when we met and people were mean. I wasn't. Nick wasn't. So we became a little team.