Lainey’s List, Chapter One (and an Introduction)
Two years ago in October, I started writing The Charlotte Chronicles. I wrote one “episode” a week. It started off as a lark but as time went on, I fell in love with Charlotte and Nathan and so did many readers. I ended up writing that story for a year, releasing a part every week via the newsletter.
For those who’ve read The Charlotte Chronicles, you know that there are two characters called Lainey and Nick who meet through Charlotte later in life. What you don’t know is their backstory or their ending. I don’t know it fully either. But starting today and ending when their story is done, we’ll learn it together.
I hope you’ll enjoy the journey we take with Lainey and Nick.
•••
Some guy in my Pod just gave us all nicknames (self.saturnalia)
submitted 10 hours ago * by Godkiller
See Album. I was having a shit day but the little encouragement was like a power pack and I ended up slaying five alien lifeforms so I could set up camp. Many thanks.
[–] calledinsick (NA) 1429 points 9 hours ago
@Godkiller: Twas me. Sorry about your shit day.
[–] Beastlord (NA) 1429 points 9 hours ago
@calledinsick: Pics or it didn’t happen.
[–] calledinsick (NA) 1429 points 9 hours ago
@Beastlord: Guess it didn’t happen.
[–] Beastlord (NA) 1429 points 9 hours ago
@calledinsick: Can’t take a joke? Bet you have a pussy.
[–] Godkiller (NA) 1429 points 9 hours ago
@Beastlord: Got shot down during middle school recess today? Cuz you sound like a whiney 11 year old with no game.
Private Message from Godkiller to calledinsick
Ignore the asshats. Your mod was killer. Thanks. It really did make my day.
Private Message from calledinsick to Godkiller
No prob. I ignore them everyday. Anyway, glad you like my mod. Want to talk about the shit day?
Private Message from Godkiller to calledinsick
No. Just family shit. I’d rather ignore it. So not that I’m complaining but why’d you nickname me Hawkeye?
Private Message from calledinsick to Godkiller
You never miss.
Private Message from Godkiller to calledinsick
Does Hawkeye have a crush on Black Widow?
Private Message from calledinsick to Godkiller
Who doesn’t?
***
“Elaina!” I jerk at my grandmother’s yell and drop the video game controller onto the ground. It bounces a couple of times and random characters show up on the screen. Hurriedly I swipe it off the floor before the send button accidentally gets depressed. My finger pauses over the cancel key.
Private Message to Godkiller from calledinsick
Who do you have a crush on?
I’m in love with a screen name. Or the guy behind the screenname. Or crap, it could be a girl. I’m a girl pretending to be a guy so the other guys playing the game won’t kick me out. But based on Godkiller’s other messages, he’s definitely a boy. And he’s a boy I care about.
“Elaina Christina Valdez! Are you talking to boys on that thing?” Grandmama screeches as she rips the controller from my hand. I cringe as she scrolls up to see what the jerk BeastLord wrote. “Pussy? Is this the kind of language fifteen year olds are using? I told you no messaging with strangers!”
She jabs several buttons and screens flash before our eyes, but none of them turn off the console. At least she didn’t send my message. I point to the box on the television where the on/off button is. “It’s the square button there, Grandmama.”
She’s too busy ripping out the power cord to listen. When she turns, the curlers in her head quiver like coiled snakes readying to strike. “I’ve told you a million times, that I don’t want that kind of filth in my house.”
I cast my guilty eyes downward. “Yes, Grandmama.”
My fingers curl into my palms. I resist the urge to leap forward and grab the console back. It’s my connection with Godkiller. He said he had a shit day and that I made him feel better. That’s been the best thing I’ve heard in months. And I want to go back online to find out what’s wrong, if he needs to talk, and if he still wants to be friends if he finds out I’m a girl.
“Your father thinks he can buy your love with this? What kind of girl are you?” She shakes the controller in my face.
A lonely one.
“It’s fine, Mama. She’s just growing up.” My mother throws her own form of gasoline on the fire. When I glance up, I see her rolling her eyes.
“You mean she’s growing up like you!” Grandmama accuses.
In this non-stop battle for supremacy between her and Grandmama, that’s a solid blow. Mama hides the flinch in response but I see it.
She winds a lock of her perfectly curled hair around her finger pretending she doesn’t care about her mother’s approval but that’s a game I know is a losing one. I know this from personal experience.
“She’s growing up and most kids her age not only use the word pussy but they’re having sex.” Mama pushes away from the door jam and glides to a stop in front of me. Her cool hand grips my chin and forces me to look up at her. “But don’t you worry about Lainey. She doesn’t want to be like me in any way. Lainey’s a virgin. She doesn’t believe in sex before marriage, do you honey?”
She gives me a hard pinch before releasing my face. My cheeks burn, part anger, part embarrassment.
“If she keeps flirting with strangers through the television, she’ll turn out dead,” Grandmama huffs. “I read about a ten year old who was lured to the Facebook and snatched up and kept for months. That’ll be you if you keep it up.” She jerks her chin up and stalks out, the console box in her arms and the power cord draped down her back like a long train.
I glance at the clock. It’s nearing 8:00 pm which means it’s too late to go to the library and log into my account. Mama reclines on the sofa, one arm draped across the back and the other flicking cigarette ashes into my half full water glass.
“So tell me about your sex-loving friend,” she cajoles. “I didn’t even know you were interested in boys.” She runs her eyes over my baggy gym shorts and long-sleeve t-shirt. “I’ve even given up hope you might be a lesbian given the lack of interest you show in yourself.”
“It was an insult Mama. He was insulting me.” I reach over and slide my math books off the coffee table. I’d rather the books not smell like stale smoke forever. “Anyway, doesn’t matter now. I’m going to read.”
Mama shrugs. “You shouldn’t be in here hiding away. You’re a pretty girl.” She squints, closing one eye and then the other, examining me from multiple angles as if trying to decide whether her statement is accurate. “Show your curves. Get out there.” She takes a deep drag. “Or you’ll end up living here for the rest of your life and you’ll turn into a bitter old crone.”
Like your grandmamma, she leaves unstated.
“Sure Mama,” I reply as blandly as possible. The path of least resistance in this house is to agree with everything. If grandmamma takes the gaming console Uncle Tito gave me last year for Christmas, fighting her wouldn’t bring it back. Instead, she’d find other things to take away. If I argue with Mama that having my toenails pulled out individually is preferable than a date with any of the meatheads at school, she’d drag me to the mall and try to shove me into bras two sizes too small because clearly the problem was that I wasn’t showing enough assets to attract the right kind of man.
Her idea of the right kind of man is one whose wallet is fatter than his gut. Bigger the belly, the bigger the checking account needed to be. One balanced the other.
As for my father? Uncle Tito said that he ran off like the scared little boy he was the minute Mama told him she was pregnant.
So it’s just three generations of unhappy female Valdez’s in this house. Uncle Tito wisely lives far away. He’s in his last year of college and says that when he gets a job, I can come and stay with him when I graduate.
That’s three years away. I can make it but mooning about video games and boys behind screen names isn’t going to help me get the college scholarship I need to get out of here. I open my textbook and begin to study.
***
Private Message to calledinsick from Godkiller
Haven’t seen you around the game lately. Are you sick?
Private Message to calledinsick from Godkiller
Sooo…seriously. Are you sick?
Private Message to calledinsick from Godkiller
Can I help?
Private Message to calledinsick from Godkiller
Hey, my email is n_j_1992@gmail.com. Hit me up if you need anything.
***
To: n_j_1992@—–.com
From: air.bender.4@—.com
Sorry! The console broke and I couldn’t get it fixed. Ultimately decided to toss it. What’s happening? Still slaying everyone?
~Nick (aka Godkiller)
To: air.bender.4@—.com
From: n_j_1992@—–.com
Hey! You’re alive. The pod died. BeastLord went on a rampage because the game glitched and his crops disappeared. For the best anyway. He was a douchebag. Still is, in fact. Have to see the fucker every day in school. Things okay?
~L aka calledinsick
To: n_j_1992@—–.com
From: air.bender.4@—.com
Yeah things are fine. What about you? The last time we played you said you had a shit day. Anything I can help you out with?
To: air.bender.4@—.com
From: n_j_1992@—–.com
Not unless you’re secretly an oncologist. My sister, okay she’s not my blood sister but I think of her like one, had a tumor in her head. She got it taken out but doctors said if she waited even a couple more weeks, it could have killed her.
To: n_j_1992@—–.com
From: air.bender.4@—.com
Holy shit. That’s terrible. She going to be okay?
To: air.bender.4@—.com
From: n_j_1992@—–.com
We think so. Hey, mind if I give you my digits? I hardly ever check this email account. And I gotta run. Charlotte’s getting home today from the hospital. Anyway, here’s my number: xxx-xxx-xxxx
***
I push the library keyboard toward the monitor and sit back in my chair. That…wasn’t anything like I’d expected would happen.
Nick.
His name is Nick. I have his cellphone number. He wants me to text him. Or crap…call him? I couldn’t call him. He’d know immediately I wasn’t a dude. Would he still want to talk to me if he knew I was a girl. A fifteen year old girl at that?
You’re supposed to be at least thirteen to play Saturnalia, but it’s possible he’s ten years old. I could be crushing on a ten-year-old. I blanch.
No. It was easy to spot the ten-year-olds. They’re the ones that are constantly bragging how they porked your mother last night. I know he’s my age or older. He’s talked about high school before. One night he’d logged in late because he had an extra late football camp practice. 10 year-olds don’t have football practice do they?
Beastlord had told him that another tardy on a day we went raiding would get him booted. That was the first time I’d sent Nick a private message, telling him to ignore BeastLord because we obviously weren’t raiding anyone without Nick’s precision firing skills at our side.
Nick had just replied with a laugh and said we could kick him out anytime we thought he was a deadweight but that he’d try not to be late again. And he wasn’t. He’d kept his promise.
Over the weeks, we started messaging about more than just the game. Nothing really deep but he might share if he’d had a tough day at school or argued with his parents. I knew he had a brother. This email exchange was the first I heard about any not-but-kind-of sister. I’d told him that my Uncle Tito had gifted me the console and the game and that I wanted to design graphics for games some day.
He’d asked to see some of my art and I shared a few pictures with him. It got to be where I only logged on for Godkiller, not because I really cared about the game anymore. I only cared about him.
And now I have a name.
And a number.
If only I had a cell phone.
The post Lainey’s List, Chapter One (and an Introduction) appeared first on Author Jen Frederick.
