"I think I'd like a little company."

***

I don't remember much about my Dad.

According to Lola, I look just like him. Mom said I make the same expressions as him when I'm annoyed. But I didn't have that many memories of him compared to someone who lost a parent later on in life. I don't remember the way he sounded. I couldn't remember the way he carried himself.

The memories were lost in a fog, the only faint memories I can see were him reading to me and feeding ducks by the pond near my house. Despite most of the memories had faded away, his absence was always there.

It went in a way that changed my family forever.

Everyone went silent in a way that I didn't know how to navigate despite hardly recalling him. It wasn't just the loss of him, it was the loss of the connection that followed. After Mom moved us as a widow, it was the change in school. I didn't realize at the time but when things changed, I was seeking for something.

Something stable.

"You're thinking too hard," I said, repeating Akito's favorite line to me.

Akito frowned. "How do you know?"

"Because I'm kicking your ass in Call of Duty right now," I said with a shiteating grin before sniping him on the screen.

I didn't realize stability came to me when I met Akito on the first day of first grade.

His fingers hesitated over his controller. His eyes were focused on the screen, looking at the option to respawn. He hardly said much when he came in. While he responded, it was curt and his mind felt like it was anywhere but here.

"Hey. You've been quiet tonight. Is everything okay?" I said, shooting people on the screen as I was running through the field.

"Yes," Akito responded immediately in an even tone..

I glanced over at him. "You sure? You haven't even made fun of my terrible kill-to-death ratio."

Akito didn't say much. The only evidence I have that he's alive was the clicking of the controller next to me.

"It's still terrible." With that, he shot one of my teammates on the screen. "I need a better way to catch up with you."

I frowned deeper, my finger hesitating to respawn. I knew Akito gets in the zone when he plays, but he was off in this game, more than the fact he's getting his ass kicked by me.

Trying to keep things casual, I said, "You're in the zone, but are you sure you're good?."

Akito paused for less than a second, but I caught it. He didn't say anything, his eyes only narrowing at his character as he sniped my teammates in the distance with perfect accuracy. He was like that - despite the tension, he can be calmly playing.

"From what I gather over here yeah. I just have been busy that's all," Akito said, looking content at his kills.

It seems like everyone is saying that.

"I don't want to overthink it, but you've been quiet for, like, two weeks now," I said, keeping the tone light but serious.

Akito's character ran into a room, killing two of my teammates. Without missing a beat, he said, "I just have a lot of work. The Yearbook club ran late today, and then I had to catch up on homework. All those college level classes are killing me." He stopped the game to turn and said, "Sometimes I just want things to stop so I can figure it all out."

I paused for a moment, his words hitting harder than I anticipated.

"I get the need to stop and figure out everything," I said honestly, thinking about my feelings since senior year started. I pressed play and shot one of Akito's teammates in front of me. "I'm here if you want to talk. I don't want you to feel like you're alone."

Akito didn't respond immediately, focusing on the game. The sound of gun shots rang in the background, though the sound felt secondary to something heavier in the room.

Then Akito's character shot my own.

"Seriously? I was reloading," I complained.

He laughed. "You were standing in the open. Rookie move."

Akito's phone buzzed. Then it buzzed again. Akito stopped to look at his phone, which I used as a chance to kill him.

"Got you," I said, reloading my character's gun.

Akito rolled his eyes. "I gave you that. Hold on a second, Girl France texted me."

I stopped playing, looking at him.

"Wow, you guys talk a lot," I said, thinking about how much they speak again.

He nodded, still looking at his phone. "She needs help with the Calc homework. Turns out she's not good at math."

Before I could think, I said, "You know, considering how much you guys talk, maybe something is going on there."

He made a face before saying, "There's nothing there. I actually thought there's something there between you two."

I blinked.

"Definitely not. We just stopped hating each other and trying to co-existing," I said, shaking my head at the thought.

"That's the start of a crappy romance novel," Akito said, looking up from his phone at me.

I tilted my head.

"You read those?" I asked strangely.

He rolled his eyes. "My sister does. Hana talks about them way too much. You're basically Sir Poofy Pants in her books."

I touched the sides of my forehead.

"Please stop," I said, mentally praying he wouldn't continue.

"You're the male guy in the romance novels. The heroic one that watches the female lead afar," he said, pointing to one side. He then shifted to the other side. "Then you have Girl France, the fair maiden who is in need of help. The delicate flower who wouldn't hurt a fly."

I snorted, "Delicate flower my ass. Did we forget she gave me a concussion?"

"Well you technically trespassed in her room," Akito reminded me. Before I could curse him out, he continued, "You're so into her."

I shook my head so hard, I felt myself getting dizzy. Sure, she is very easy on the eyes, but a lot of people are. She has only been here for a couple of months and I barely knew her.

Why would I be into her?

She hit me in the head, insulted me, and her dog hates me. This couldn't be happening. The idea of us being together made me sick to the stomach.

And I was not enjoying that uncomfortable feeling.

I shook my head. "No no no. You can have her."

Akito's face twisted into a weird look. "Why would I have her?"

"Because everyone knows you two are more of a thing more than I am with her, and if I'm the reason you aren't with her then you are wrong-" I began.

"France," Akito interrupted me.

"Yes?"

"I appreciate what you're trying to say, but if you say I'm into her one more time, I might have to break a plate over your head," Akito said, his face growing annoyed despite the joking tone his voice has. "Chill, France. "

Again with the worrying.

"You think too much in here," Akito said, pointing to his head. "It's incredible how much you think considering how empty your head is. What's in there to even think?"

I gave him the middle finger. "Now I'm going to break a plate over your head," I joked before sighing. Akito followed suit.

"You're a good friend. I'm sorry for being busy. Why don't we go to Archy's game this week?" Akito suggested hopefully.

And like that, the balance felt restored. At least, that was what my mind was telling me. My mind kept drifting with Archy, but I was curbing the thoughts by focusing on Akito in front of me.

Akito stayed for a little longer until he left to go home and study for a Physics exam. When I watched his car leave the driveway, I pulled out my phone.

I know I think too much. I always had. I want to stop it but it's like asking me to stop walking on my two feet. What does stopping mean? Sometimes I think without knowing what I'm thinking. Is that even possible? I don't know why I'm so focused on this and everyone else is just...living life. Why do I feel this way?

I sent a message, and felt the immediate yet familiar beep that comes with the message failed to send. I looked at the multiple texts I have sent. And seeing the message that always comes up.

The text has failed to deliver.

Before I could think about it any further, my phone started to vibrate. Even then, I didn't know what to make of Francesca's name on the caller ID.

No way.

I stared at the screen, watching the call keep buzzing. I wiped my hand on my hoodie, my heart suddenly beating fast.

"Hey Franny" I answered, biting my lower lip to restrain myself from saying anything stupid.

There was a second of silence, then she said in a low voice, "Hey France the Great."

I blinked.

"Give me a second," I stepped quickly towards the living room where I saw Lola on the couch. I could only make out the back of her head, which at least to me appeared to be engrossed in whatever Asian drama show she was watching.

I slipped away towards my room, closing the door behind me as quietly as I could.

"Back," I said. "I don't want Lola to hear I'm talking to a girl and say something."

If it wasn't for the faint background noises, I would've assumed she hung up.

"Who is Lola?" she finally asked, her tone changing to curiosity.

"Lola is what I called my grandmother," I answered, sitting on my worn out bed from childhood.

"Oh okay," she responded. I suddenly heard a dog barking, followed by her shushing.

"I don't need to ask what you are up to. It's clear to me you have Satan over," I said, thinking back to her demon dog.

She made an offensive noise. "Don't talk about my sweet dog like that," she insisted, her voice warming at the mention of him. "I was watching something and he came over to sit next to me. He's the cutest thing."

I snorted. "Debatable."

"What can be cuter than my dog then?" she asked.

"Me for one."

My smile dropped.

Dumbass, France. Literal dumbass.

My cheeks instantly warmed when I said it. My mind was trying to figure out what came over me to even say that. She remained silent on the other side. I felt my phone beeped from a new message.

I pulled my phone away from my ear to open the message and see a selfie Francesca took with her dog.

"You're telling me you can beat my Brando?" I barely heard her ask.

Her dog was stretched out on her bed, burying most of his face under her duvet. However, my eyes looked at her, observing her hair tied into a messy bun and her in glasses. She was looking at the photo with the most relaxed smile I've seen on her.

"I can do the same pose as the demon dog and we can compare," I said, managing to pull myself away from the photo and put my ear back onto the phone.

She laughed loudly, and my stomach churned with something that felt like joy. "So you called to tell me your dog is cuter than me?" I mused. "I guess that beats you falling asleep at the last time."

She made a noise of disgust. "Yeah, I'm good. I didn't realize I would fall asleep last time. Sorry."

I teased, "Maybe my voice is so soothing."

She immediately went quiet at the question. I heard the faint noises from her movie in the background.

"Everything okay, Franny?"

"Okay," I said, dragging out the word. I laid my head on the pillow. "What's going on?"

"I wanted to show you this paper I found at school the other day," she said in a strange - but a serious - voice. I gripped the phone tighter to my ear, barely making out her voice.

"You called me to show me a piece of paper?" I asked with confusion. I heard her take a loud inhale and exhale.

My insides twisted with dread.

"Why do I feel like you're about to tell me you're pregnant and I'm the father," I joked, trying to break the tension. She remained silent at the other end, making my mouth dry.

"I texted you a picture of it," she said quietly. My phone buzzed right on cue with the notification.

I put her on speaker, looking at the image she sent.

Everything in me went tight and hollow when I read the words etched in large black ink.

Terrorist.

"What?" my voice strained whisper.

Red marks were smeared on the paper, along with additional print at the bottom.

You aren't good enough. You will never belong here.

Who writes like this?

"This fell out of Archy's locker the other day," Francesca responded, her voice growing somber. "I picked it up and only looked at it now."

I kept looking at the picture, my eyes following the same lines over and over again. All the oxygen immediately left my lungs, leaving a painful sensation in my chest.

"France?" she quietly called for me. "You there?"

"I knew something was wrong," I said, thinking back to every awkward moment with everyone. "I think they are lying."

"France. It's only about Archy-" she said before I continued.

"When has this been happening? Has...Has he been getting a lot of this?" I managed to say, feeling suddenly nauseous at the image.

"I don't know."

"Who did this?"

I heard faint noises in the background.

"I don't know," she repeated softly.

I shook my head at the image. "This can't be real," I said. "Archy is popular."

He was the guy that got invited to all the parties and knew basically everyone at our school. If I had to count who had the most friends, it would be him. Everyone always stopped in the hallway. People wanted to be him. He was fought by recruiters for him to join their team.

She has been silent on the other line.

"He was homecoming king last year. He probably is going to be prom king this year," I said, trying to wrap my head around it. "He needs to do something about it."

We needed to talk to Archy. To figure out what this horrible message that left me sick to my bones.

My eyes closed at a new realization forming in my head.

"Archy won't talk about this," I sighed with resignation. I closed my eyes tightly and rubbed the bridge of my nose.

"What do you mean?" she finally asked.

"He doesn't like to talk about things like this. Even if I ask him, he won't say anything."

Archy hated confrontation more than anything. He was probably the only one who will try to see the good in things and if anything bad is going on, the last to bring it up with the hopes it will go away.

"What are we going to do if Archy won't talk?" she asked.

"We?" I said, a smile growing on my face. "So you're helping me out after all? After your whole "it's not my problem" thing?"

I could imagine her rolling her eyes. "It's just for Archy for now. Let's not get ahead of ourselves," she responded, her voice getting more drowsy by the word.

"Sure," I said, relieved she agreed.

"Let's just stick to a plan. We'll start observing tomorrow. Keep an eye on Archy- without making it obvious," she said logically, despite the sleepy tone in her voice.

"I'm a pretty sneaky guy," I commented.

She made a noise of displeasure. "I don't need a wannabe superhero playing detective. You're going to get us caught," she said, yawning loudly.

"You're tired, Franny," I declared.

"After my movie," she said stubbornly. "This movie is longer than I remember it to be."

She hummed with content, making me smile.

"That sounds nice," I said, feeling myself relax on the bed. "What are you watching?"

"The Prestige Ever watched?"

I shook my head.

"Never."

"You should. It's one of my favorite movies," she said with content, making me smile.

"Noted," I said, feeling myself relax on the bed

She didn't say anything for a moment. I heard some background noises before I heard heavy breathing. I sat on the phone for a minute, hearing the combination of the movie in the background and her heavy breathing. She sounded so peaceful that it was a sound I didn't feel ready to end.

It was nice to not think or read between the lines. She just...listened.

I didn't know whether I should hang up and waste her phone battery, so I ended the call and shot her a final text.

Good night Franny. Let's meet up before the first period.

I spent the rest of the night searching for The Prestige on Netflix.