The Sister Of Popular

Chapter Twenty

I didn't know what I was doing. I was pretty sure I was going mad. It had been shouted into me to never meet up with online friends, and wasn't Skyping them the same thing?

I should have been assuming she was a child-molester or a mass-murderer. I shouldn't have even suggested it. A few weeks ago, I wasn't completely delusional and said no, but now, I didn't really care. If Mikayla did turn out to be some kind of child-kidnapper, then damn it, I didn't care. My life was worthless as it was - there was no point in attempting to protect myself anymore.

I minimised my browser, opening Skype. I never really used my Skype - I didn't have anyone to Skype except family members, and I didn't really enjoy Skyping my dad's third cousin's daughter from Holland all the time. I typed "Miki546" into the search bar, and sure enough, it came up. Her profile picture was a Merlin one, the same as her one from How To Get A Life, and it said Mikayla, 15, Birmingham.

Seemed genuine.

I was probably getting my hopes up that she could be a real friend, someone who I could end up meeting with and becoming best friends with. Someone who actually cared for me. I mean, Mikayla seemed nice enough, and she was a great listener and after a five hour conversation, we still didn't run out of things to say.

I pressed "add to contacts", and within seconds, she had accepted.

Mikayla. merlinian4eva. My online friend. I was going to see her face, have a real conversation with her.

I clicked "video call".

As it was dialling, waiting for Mikayla to pick up, I looked in the mirror besides me. I was a mess. I hadn't done my hair, I was wearing a terrible grey hoodie, my face was bright red from crying and I just looked generally awful. I didn't have time to sort myself out. I just hoped Mikayla would see me and understand. Mikayla always understood.

I didn't know why I liked an online friend so much.

The dialling tone stopped, and I looked back at the laptop. Mikayla had picked up, and it connected for the most nerve-wracking few seconds of my life. Then the screen split, and I could see my blotchy face and messy blonde hair in the corner, and Mikayla came up on the screen.

She wasn't a fifty-year-old pedophile.

In fact, she was what she said she was. Mikayla had red waves in a lazy bun, eyes identical to mine and a bored look on her face. She didn't have much make-up on either; she only had a bit of mascara and lipgloss. Mikayla had a kind face - not a long, pointy one that looked evil or a chubby, flat face that looked greedy.

"Hey," I said nervously, my voice wobbling.

"Hey," Mikayla replied, smiling. I smiled back. Her voice was soft, soothing yet playful at the same time. She seemed like the person who cared for people, who had millions of friends and was everyone's favourite. Not the kind of person who would be on How To Get A Life.

But yet, she was that person in a way. We were friends, albeit online ones. She had stuck by me this entire time, helping me, learning from her own experience.

"It's weird, t-talking to you for real," I said, without anything else to say. "We've always just communicated by little letters on a screen."

"I know right," Mikayla said, giggling. "But well. At least you know I'm not, like, a forty-year-old pervert!"

I laughed.

"So, what's up? You're looking pretty down, although I get why," Mikayla said. She seemed so insanely nice for some girl I met on the Internet. I honestly wished she had the same thoughts about me. I was done with people not even giving me a chance to be nice.