Bold text represents the boy, Regular text represents the girl

September 27

8:41 P.M.

"Hey!"

"Are you sober this time?"

"Oh...uh...sorry about that. The school won the game and I guess I celebrated a bit too much. Were you at the party?"

"Nope. I don't do parties."

"What do you mean? Everybody loves parties."

"Not me. I hate the tasteless music, the smell of sweat and booze, and the taste of alcohol. Not my scene."

"Nerd."

"Idiot."

"I really want to know who you are. Aren't you the least bit curious about me?"

"Honestly, nope. I think this whole thing is dumb and I can't wait to be done with it."

"Way to make a guy feel great."

"What the hell is even the point of these phone calls? I don't think any other school has such a stupid program in place."

"Well, according to my papers, some girl committed suicide in 1958 by jumping off the top of the art building because she felt that she had nobody to talk to. Her parents were super rich and sued the school, so the school created this program."

"To help distressed students talk about their problems?"

"Yeah."

"It's a great idea, but poorly executed. Take me, for example. I don't need therapy, but I'm stuck doing this shit."

"Trust me, sweetheart, we all need therapy in some form or the other."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What? Oh-uh-nothing. Nothing at all. Good night."

"Wait –"

Dial Tone