“Bank number?” I called.
“I’d tell you, but then you’d fall for me.”
“Really.”
“Yeah, I’m dirt poor. Very sexy. Besides, I hear that freaky people shouldn’t fall for each other. Weird things happen if you break the freaky-normal, normal-normal rule.”
“Okay, I have no idea what’s going on here, but this is private property. My property, so get out.”
“The sign outside says OUT OF BOUNDS. I’m pretty sure the school owns it.” He folded his arms and cocked his head, and the stupid bowler hat stayed on his stupid head. “I don’t think you really want me to leave.”
I glowered at him.
“‘Oh, God. I’m so lonely’?”
“Get out of here! This is my space, you—goddamn—” I was infuriated, lost for the word. “Watson!”
After glancing down at my book, he had the cheek to say, “You should invest in a quality hardcover of Poe’s collected works. Buying cheap may be simpler and easier in the short term, but your future self is only laughing at you—or slapping you. Mentally, of course.”
My future self. Ha. What a concept.
Anyway, I just stared. He talked like some kind of awkward, socially inept idiot—or genius. I honestly have no idea which.
“Or you can borrow mine,” he added.
I sniggered at that. “You read Poe?”
“I read other, less trendy things too.”
“Let me guess,” I drawled, leaning back to consider him. “Arthur Conan Doyle?”
“Funny.” He smiled. “’Cause of the hat.”
It was growing early, and I could feel the change in the air as dawn began to shift and sigh, preparing for her inevitable rise.
“I have to go,” I told him, and he frowned.
“Why?”
“One of the mysteries of the universe,” I muttered, and left.
He said he was new. Just started. He must be the one Carly mentioned. It’s got to be embarrassing to be the new kid at school on top of arriving late. Do you think I could be normal around him, Dee? Could I pretend to be a regular girl who sleeps, who dreams, who has a life ahead of her instead of an existence in which she’s dragged around like an appendage by the one she loves most?
As soon as he talks to Carly, he’ll know something is up. If he hasn’t spoken to her already. Though, I think she mentioned that they share no classes. Maybe Naida will steal him away too. Best to let it go. Friendship is out of the question for someone like me. I know that for a fact.
Still… it would be nice to make believe for a while. And he certainly made me forget all about being lonely.
He said he just got his room in Pinewood Hall, one of the boys’ dorm wings, and I told him I’m in Magpie House with the girls. I gave him my email and IM.
Isn’t it funny, Dee? The world isn’t empty after all.
Getting dizzy—no time. Forgot to write a new note in the Message Boo
[The entry ends here.]
8
Ari Hait and Kaitlyn Johnson communicated via Instant Message (IM) and email throughout the months that followed. Telephone records were pulled for the trial, as well as saved conversations on Kaitlyn’s IM mobile service. Where relevant, those that have been made available are included in this report.
Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson
Time Index and Location Not Noted
Thursday, 9 September 2004
Proof! Proof that he was real and not some desperate wish from my warped little mind. As soon as the sun set and Carly discarded me, vanishing to wherever she vanishes when the night closes in, I found this email waiting:
From: AriHait558
To: RealxChick
Date: 9 Sept 2004
Subject: Nice Meeting You
Well, Miss Confessional. You have some pretty interesting secrets. And you’re quite stunning when you’re flushed. Will you have more confessions for me tonight?
Intrigued,
Ari
I’m going to print out every email we exchange and give it to you, Dee. I want to be able to figure him out, if I need to. My reply:
From: RealxChick
To: AriHait558
Date: 9 Sept 2004
Subject: Re: Nice Meeting You
Well, Mr. Watson, you’re a sneaky little spy and an invader. The chapel is my base—trespassers will be shot on sight.
Armed,
Me
From: AriHait558
To: RealxChick
Date: 9 Sept 2004
Subject: Threats
Nice bait—see you then.
Ready for battle,
Ari
PS—You never gave me your name. MI5 Agent or Witness Protection?
9 September 2004
Instant Message Exchange, 8:30 PM
Ari558: You never answered my email. I am mortally wounded. As my new best friend, you’re off to a pretty bad start.
CONFESSIONALGRL: You are a sad, lonely little individual.
Ari558: I can go with the sad and lonely, but LITTLE?
Ari558: Okay, well, confession: you’re weird.
CONFESSIONALGRL: I’m weird?
Ari558: Exceedingly.
CONFESSIONALGRL: WEIRD???
Ari558: I’m going to fix that.
CONFESSIONALGRL: Like the doctor in Star Trek? Like with a dermal regenerator, only for my personality?
Ari558: Wow.
Ari558: A Star Trek reference. I guess, kind of like that, but cooler.
CONFESSIONALGRL: If you’re not a Trekkie, we cannot be friends.
Ari558: Fine, but if you’re a ST: Voyager girl, I quit you here and now.
CONFESSIONALGRL: Sad, lonely LITTLE individual!
9
144 days until the incident
Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson
Saturday, 11 September 2004, 9:00 pm
Dorm
It’s the pills. Nothing more. It’s in my mind—not real, not real, NOT REAL.
I left Carly a Post-it on the mirror—“stop taking the pills!” If Lansing wants her to remember what happened to our parents, then I’ll do it for her.
It’s useless. No matter how hard I try, no matter how many synapses I burst looking for the memory, it isn’t there. In the blink of an eye, Mum and Dad went from living to dead.
I don’t know how they died.
Later
Some people say that night blooms. I’ve always said that it cuts. Like a guillotine. I guess the sun heals the wound?
Before my parents died left went away, night was full. I made it that way. I went out. I partied. I drank. I met men. I stole borrowed. But since we went to Claydon Hell and now Elmbridge, I haven’t been who I was before. That destruction is still there, I think—that urge to break myself open so I can peek inside. I still climb onto the roof and wonder why I don’t just jump fly away—even if my body cracks on the pavement below. I still break into forbidden areas.