Jamie, meet Dylan. Dylan, meet Jamie

Chapter Thirteen

LadyWillow: Goodbye.

               I would go on playing with LadyWillow; I wasn't sleepy anyway. Not when my mind kept reminding me of Dylan.

              He was insane.

            The door bursted open and I jumped out of bed in fear. 

              "Dude it's just me," Jake said with his hands up, weirded out by my reaction. i rubbed my face with my hand. 

                  "Sorry. What did you want?" I asked.

                   "I just forgot to tell you Dad wanted you home as soon as possible tomorrow so we could leave for the trip right after we get home from school," he said. I looked at the clock, it was almost midnight.

                   "And it was important that you told me at this time?" I said, pointing at the clock.

                  Jake shrugged. "He might ask you at breakfast."

                  "Just go to bed," I said, throwing my pillow at him. He caught it and tossed it back, closing the door after he had left.

                     I finally slithered into bed but my phone buzzed. I sighed. I wasn't meant to get some sleep.

                     Thanks for going to the memorial with me. I'm still so sad about Tucker though. Are you up?

                    It was Sarah. I didn't mind her messages at all. Tucker's name gave me goosebumps again.

                        I am, and don't mention it. I wrote back.

                     Almost immediately I got a call from her, and I jumped out of bed in excitement. Did my voice sound okay or was it sleepy?

                       "Hello?" I said, right after clearing my throat.

                       "Jamie, hi," her voice as sweet as she always sounded.

                       "So, uh, how are you?" I asked after rubbing a hand through my hair. Oh god the sides were too short. How did Jake not notice it? I should be thankful.

                          "I'm alright, I guess. I can't seem to fall asleep, Jamie. I mean poor Alex, his only brother and all. I just feel so bad for him," she said,

                        You have no clue, I wanted to say.

                         "I'm sorry, I don't want you to get depressed before bed,' she said with a forced chuckle. "Anyway, I-uh, I was wondering if you wanted to go out tomorrow for burgers or something?" she asked.

                          Was she asking me out? Holy shit she was asking me out! 

                       "I,uh, I, ah, umm, you see," I tried to say. "My and Dylan's families are going on a camping trip right after school," I told her. "But I do want to go more than anything," I also added. I could almost see her smile now.

                       "Oh I completely forgot! Yeah Dylan did tell me about that, sorry. Another day, then?" she asked. Whew. But it sucked she knew from Dylan first and not from me. 

                  "Yeah, sure," I replied. I wanted to talk to her some more but I didn't want to keep her late. 

                    "Great, I'll see you tomorrow, Jamie," she said. My name sounded like something else when she said it; something pleasing to hear.

                      "See you," I could only say. She hung up and I jumped on my bed. I let out a breath as I looked at the plain ceiling above. I rewinded what had happened with Dylan. I couldn't stand up against him, he'd beat me in a second. I sat up straight and looked at my lip in the mirror. It was still swollen from his kick. I lifted my shirt up to see where the burn had been. It was right under my chest, almost white from the burn for some reason. I gasped as I saw the indentations of the ropes on my skin. I knew they would be gone tomorrow, but it was red all over, almost like a tattoo. 

                    I worried about tomorrow. A whole weekend with him in the woods, isolated from the rest of the world; and I was pretty sure he already planned for things; letting me sleep outside, serve me as bait for some bear or mountain creature, leave me stranded in the middle of the lake by "accident", the list was endless. I wanted to be sick just to postpone it so badly, but I knew Dylan would know I faked it. Unless I actually got sick in front of him. He was good at what he did, like he had done it before.  

                  Wait...I told myself. Meredith did say he had a friend whom she felt was forced to be friends with him. I bit my lip and looked around the room wonderingly. I opened my laptop again and opened a new tab.

               My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I wondered what to type in. I remembered he had told me he went to the Connery Academy back in DC, so I hoped it would help. My fingers typed before my brain could process what I had just remembered.

              Dylan Reed Connery Academy

             A couple of irrelevant searches popped up, but then I got the jackpot. It was his student page on the school website. I thanked the outdated website for the lack of updates. 

             It featured his picture, one when he was a junior. He looked almost the same except his hair was a bit shorter. He had almost 200 and something friends from the school; I guessed he might've been different there, but then I remembered what he had told me about his schoolmates, and I decided he wasn't much different. I guessed people wanted him to like them simply because he was so hard to please.

              I looked at his message board; I lot of them featured girls whining about how much they've missed him. "He's all yours," I said.  

                 I sighed. I did find his page, but how was I supposed know who Meredith was talking about?                                        

                  I loaded his friends page and targeted the guys his age. I also limited them to above-average looking Caucasian guys; since looks concerned him so much.

            After almost fifteen minutes of filtering; I was left with three different guys. Mike Wright, Phillip Morgans, and Terry Richmond.

                   I clicked on each person's profile. Mike Wright was a basketball player who liked onion and garlic chips. I crossed him out because if you were tormented by someone you wouldn't write that you liked onion and garlic chips.

                   I checked  Phillip Morgans' profile next. He didn't have much on his profile page except for a link to an X-sports website. I didn't cross him out as he seemed like a very private person so I put him to the side. I hoped Terry's profile would filter my search to one person. 

                    I clicked on Terry's profile. His profile included that he liked to play tennis and enjoyed astonomy. It still didn't help.

                However, the message boards at the bottom of the page grabbed my attention.

               "Oh, God."