CHUM

Chapter 2: Video Star

Chapter 2: Video Star

I found out about my Destiny when I was only four years old. Mom came into my room one night, woke me up, and told me all about it. “You’re going to do amazing things,” she said, then kissed me on the forehead. She left after that, and whether it was to Timbuktu or Kalamazoo, I can’t say, but people don’t lie when they’re speaking the last words they’ll ever say to you.

So ever since way back when, I’ve had my eyes open, waiting, watching, checking around every corner, lifting up every rock, peering out over the next horizon.

            Sometimes I felt blundering, hopeless, like my Destiny was never coming, like I wasn’t going to amount to anything — and then — bada bing! Today something big comes and taps me on the shoulder.

            It’s about time.

            So as I pedal my bike home from the pool, I think this has to be it. It’s finally my Destiny, and I’m going to win the million bucks for Dad and myself, and walk into the eighth grade next year fully famous — in the good kind of way — when I hear a voice that reminds me nothing’s been settled yet.

            “Levi! You need to update your status.”

            Marcus. I get squeamy all over, like snakes just crawled up my fingernails. I’m stopped at the light and Marcus Earl, this guy from school, is hanging out the window of the car next to me, blond hair plastered across his forehead with a set of beefy black-rimmed glasses that are mostly for show. He’s got on a too-tight V-neck lavender t-shirt. For some reason, he’s wearing his shiny black and silver smartphone around his neck like it’s a necklace. I hate that thing. I look at him like he’s crazy.

            “It’s been more than three days,” Marcus says holding up his fancy phone. “It still says ‘BBQ Chicken Pizza’.”

            I can’t think of a single reason why that matters. “It was good pizza,” I say.

            He rolls his eyes like he’s been inconvenienced.  “People get tired of reading the same thing. What is the point of statuses if they don’t say what you’re doing?”

            “You could write ‘I’m updating my status’,” I say under my breath.

            “What?”

            I don’t want him to know what I said, so I change the subject. “Why the medallion?” I say, pointing to his phone.

            He lets out a sigh that’s almost a groan. I catch my mistake right away. I shouldn’t have asked him anything. It makes him feel smart and superior, when he knows something I don’t — it gives him something to hold over me.

            “Look, I wrote a whole post about this. It describes everything.” He points the flat face of the phone at me like it’s a gun, and I know this much: he’s vlogging, and I’m the subject once again.

            “You could —”

            “I’m not telling you,” he cuts me off, “Just read my page like everyone else does. It’s too complicated to explain without the links. You want everyone to log on for you?”

            I start to burn inside. Right then I want to yank that shiny phone off his neck and shatter it like a light bulb. I want to, but I won’t. It’s too far away, and if I make a move now, he’ll know how bad I want to kill him, and he’ll suspect why. I can’t let him know he has the upper hand. I can’t give him that kind of power. Especially not on video.