Harly

Chapter Thirteen (Edited 08/2021)

"What about you?" I asked, discovering I really didn't know a whole lot about the kids aside from what they did at home. The thought of them in school, interacting with others was interesting. How were they in class? What did they excel at? What did they need help in?

She snorted as she typed on her phone. "I have a couple of friends. After my dad died, a lot of them stopped talking to me." The last part she seemed surprised to admit. Or realize.

Eager to shift the subject, I commented "Well, you sure have a lot of people you text all day. Are they not your friends?"

She seemed to consider this, and a rare smile graced her features. "Yeah, they're my friends." I was suddenly very interested in these people who make Lacey feel enough at home that she'd smile.

So I asked.

She seemed hesitant to admit at first, but finally she showed me her phone.

It wasn't texts this whole time that she was sending, it was chat messages. Lacey had found herself an online community that she could be herself while talking to strangers around the world. Of course, there was that tugging fear of "what if someone tries to kidnap her?" but she assured me she never once told anyone where she lived, aside from the general state. I figured it'd be hard to find someone if they didn't even know what city she lived in.

"Do they know you're thirteen?" I asked, and she shrugged.

"Some do. Most others don't ask, so I don't tell."

It was interesting to peer into their worlds. Lacey, after much deliberation, quietly suggested she help me make a profile.

"You know, so you can monitor me. I'd rather it be you than mom. She goes a little crazy sometimes." She explained, but I had to fight to keep a smile off my face. Lacey didn't want me to monitor her. She just wanted to find a way to bond without having to show she wasn't less of a badass than she pretended.

So that night, much to Lance's dismay, she made me a profile. He had wanted one but we agreed that he was too young. "Lacey's only two and a half years older than me." He argued, and though it was compelling, I had to put my foot down. Gently.

"Yes, but you have to be a teenager to get in. "When you turn thirteen, we'll come back to it." Hopefully, after two and a half years, he would forget. Or at least wouldn't catch me in my lie.

Lacey sat me up at her computer with the login to her chat site open on the "create account" page. I stared, dumbfounded.

"What's your username?" I asked, trying to figure out what to make mine.

She must not have thought too hard about it beforehand, but now she looked embarrassed. "Um. Don't laugh, okay? We all have weird names." As if to prove it, she handed me her phone. I watched the chat lines bump up each time someone new said something.

The usernames were generally just words. "Disgrace." "Impudent." "Errant." The list carried on. Lacey was "Cerulean."

"Like the color?" I asked, and she nodded. Significantly less embarrassing than some of the others, I suppose.

I considered for a bit, trying to be clever. I tried a few, all getting back the error message "name already in use." I finally hit the jackpot with the name "Marlot" if I replaced the L with a capital I. The webtext barely showed a difference, and just like that, I was in.

"You're choosing a wine name?" she asked with obvious disdain.

"Well, red is blue's opposite on the color wheel. Merlot is a color of red. I was being clever." I said, defending myself.

"You were being lame," she corrected, but pointed to the little icon in the top right corner of a person, shoulders up. "Go here and make your profile. Think of it like Facebook. Upload some pictures, put in a description of yourself, whatever. Just don't be embarrassing."

She returned to her bed on her phone, no doubt updating her friends that I was coming in. I couldn't help but remember that she had found Norman online too, and wondered how long she had been doing this.How lonely she's been to seek friendship with people across the world.

I stole some photos of myself off my Facebook page, set my account up, and waited for further instruction.

We spent the rest of the night talking to people together. They were all interested in me, surprised to find I was so young. I guess when people hear "aunt" they assume someone in their forties. Or someone like Lacey, not being thirteen.

We chatted together until dinner and I transferred the chat to my phone from the app Lacey had downloaded earlier than went downstairs to see what the consensus was for dinner.

Shockingly, Lilly didn't speak to me. She ignored me when I talked to her, and when I went in her room to see what was up, I was knocked to the ground by a hard gust of wind.

When I say hard, I mean it. A gust of wind can't normally knock me square onto my ass. And the windows were shut.

"Get out, Aunt Em. I'm mad at you." Lilly puffed from her position. I tried to keep from doing just what she asked and scrambling out. If she was mad at me, so apparently was Harly, judging from that rough shove.

"Mad at me? Why are you mad?" I asked with a tremble in my voice.

"Because you think I pushed that boy!" She shouted, whirling around to face me.

"Who said that I think you pushed him?" I countered back, still acutely aware that Harly was somewhere, ready to fight.

She thought about it for a second, and realized I never did say it. "Well..... do you?"

"No," I answered honestly. There was no hesitation in my voice. I know she didn't push him. Lilly was on the ground too. How could she push him if she wasn't even near him? "I know you didn't push him."

"Then why did he say that I did?" She mumbled, and now I knew the reason she was upset. He had yelled at her in the car, blaming her.

I sighed, and considered how to go about this. "Lilly, Harly needs to go wait in the living room while we talk. This is for girls only." She looked off to the side of her, and I almost exhaled in relief to find he wasn't by me. Her eyes followed his invisible shape and I once again heard the low, deep mumbling of someone that was just out of hearing range.

As soon as saw her eyes snap back to me, I pushed the door shut and crouched near me. "Lil, listen to me. I know Harly pushed him." She opened her mouth to no doubt defend him, but I held up my hand. "No, Lil? I know Harly pushed him, okay? I know that friends want to help each other, but sometimes it gets you in trouble when it shouldn't." She didn't say anything, but squirmed uncomfortably. "I know you're a good girl." She brightened at this, but it looked like tears were going to start falling at any minute. With all of Harly's bad news and actions, it was no wonder. "But sometimes you have to stop and think, 'is it worth it?' Is it worth getting in trouble for him if he does something bad?" She seemed to genuinely consider it. Lilly was beginning to doubt Harly's motives, and for that, I was grateful.

"Listen, let's go get some food. We'll even get some ice cream, okay?" I murmured, scooping her up real quick. Between that and the promise of ice cream, her mood had improved greatly.

"Does Harly get ice cream too?" She asked softly, and I pondered.

"Do you think he deserves it?"

She was quiet as she decided her answer. She seemed to give it serious thought as I paraded her through the house to collect the other kids.

"No. I don't think he does." She finally answered.