Opposite

Chapter 4

The way I wake up to this alarm is different from the way I wake up from the normal alarm.  It was like a sound that wanted to crash your skull open.  

     I ran out of the house, still remembering to grab my key.  I blink a few times.  

     Nothing is going on.  My house is fine.  No one else had heard it.  Now people saw me and stare at me curiously.  

     "Sorry," I said before going back in the house.  Everyone was looking at me curiously.  I was nervous that they would judge me for this moment.  I figured it was a dream.  It only made sense.  

     But as I listen, I could tell it wasn't a dream.  It had been a call.  This time it was late.  

    It rang again.  "Answer," I said sleepily.  I saw Mack's figure.  I look at him curiously.  He blinks his eyes.  

     "Mack?" I asked.  He looked at me like I was crazy.  

     "Yes, it's me!  Wow, you should see Nightlock.  It is amazing," he said.  I look at him sadly.  He frowns.  "Is something up?" he asked.  

     "No, Mack.  Everything's fine.  I just won't ever go to Nightlock like everyone else.  Though I like it here, too," I said.  He looked at me sadly.  

     "Met anyone else?" Mack said.  He almost seemed nervous that I had met someone else.  Also a touch defensive.  Like he didn't want me to make new friends.  

     "I have a new friend," I replied.  He looked slightly sad for a moment before letting it pass.  He looked at my nightgown.  I could instantly tell he was confused.  

     "What time is it where you are?" he asked and looked back, as if looking at a clock.  

     "Two.  In the morning," I replied.  He looked shocked.  

     "Sorry, I didn't mean to call you so early.  I just thought the time was the same everywhere.  Here it's about seven hours past that.  It is fun here," he said.  I looked down sadly.  His figure's fingers nudged my chin up to look at my face.  I had my glasses on again, though I don't remember putting them on.  

     "Mack," I started.  

     "Yes, Anastasia?" he said, looking at me curiously.  I look up at him with sad eyes.  

     "When you talk to your friends, what do you call me?" and from his expression, I could tell he hadn't expected this question.  It was a smart question.  I don't know why it was a smart question, but it was.  

     "Why, I call you Anastasia," he replied, pretending he didn't understand, though he clearly did.  

     "I mean do you say 'my friend,' or what do you say?" I demanded.  He looked down solemnly.  I had just found a little secret.  

     "Mack?" I asked after about 2 minutes.  He looked up.  He didn't want to answer.  I didn't understand why.  Maybe because I was fierce about it.  About what he called me. 

     Because he had begged me for a year to say I was his girlfriend.  But I told him "no" every time.  I don't know why he begged me for so long, but he did.  

     "I still want to ask you, but I know what your answer will be," he replied.  I knew at that very moment what he had been telling his friends.  

     "Mack, I will see you at the meeting in Willow-brook next month.  Don't forget me," I said.  Why could I say that to him but not Miller?  Because I knew very well that Mack wouldn't forget me.  But I said it anyway.