Me: *is sorry, too* *shouldn’t have gone MIA when you were going through such a hard time*

Zoe: *hugs* I’m just glad you’re back. I missed you.

Me: *missed you too* I hesitate, then decide to be honest. *was afraid to check messages*

Zoe: Why? Why afraid? I thought you were ignoring my messages because you hated me.

Me: *had turned off notifications* *thought you had showed my messages to your friends to mock*

Zoe: ??!?!?!? How could you think that??

Me: Because no one like you could ever want to be friends with someone like me.

It’s the truth. The bitter, unadulterated truth. No one who could be the star of every show wants to befriend the nerd whose social circle has the depth and breadth of a mud puddle. I’m fucking weird, and I don’t know how to be anything else.

Me: *doesn’t know how to be human* *has a weird mom* *is dressed like a bedazzled potato sack in mourning*

I lean against the cold wall, letting the chill seep into my bones as I wait for her response.

Zoe: You’re the most human person I know. Anyone would be lucky to be your friend.

Before I can respond, another message comes in.

Zoe: What is this dress you’re wearing? Perhaps a photograph? *smiles fetchingly*

I don’t have to think long about the response to that. I’d sooner ingest a box of staples than document it, thank you.

Zoe: Ha-ha, then that’s the only thing I’m sorry about missing at the dance. Any fun plans for after?

Me: I’m supposed to go to Carlos Mendoza’s with the nerdcore gang. Will probably end up suffering through games on some ancient console while they play D&D.

Zoe: Sam? I never understand half of what you say.

It’s kind of cute that she doesn’t have a clue. Or maybe there’s just a thrill in the idea that I could be a mystery to someone. Or that Zoe could like me without having to be like me.

*doesn’t understand half of what I say either* I write. *contemplates saddling up Humphrey instead*

Zoe: *hopes to hitch a ride to the stars*

I hesitate for a moment before responding. Somehow it doesn’t seem like quite the right time to go off on a flight of fancy with Humphrey. I don’t even know why she’s not at the dance. Or why her boyfriend is dancing with another girl.

Me: I was kind of surprised you aren’t here. Are you okay?

Zoe: Not really.

Me: *wonders where to send Humphrey to check on you*

Zoe: *is sitting on the porch swing at my house*

I remember our weird lunch in the library, and I get brave.

Me: Want company?

Zoe: Oh, you’re so sweet! But you have your after-party. No worries, I’ll be okay.