Page 36 of The Beta Test

80085 [Me]: I know no such thing.

55378: Why do you act so innocent when you do the exact same thing?

80085 [Me]: I do not!

55378: What do you call assuming I’ll gossip about you to the whole school? I heard about your little trip to the office. You’re not the only one friends with the staff. They may have not known your motivations for your campaign to end CS, but I do.

The good mood from earlier—the email, the stickers, Braden's text—deflates like a slow leak. Analiese isn't wrong, unfortunately. And as much as it pains me to admit, she hasn't been wrong about a lot of things lately. My tablet pings again. She’s relentless.

55378: Enough of that. I actually had a question about AP Lit.

Wow, this girl keeps my head spinning. Is this what whiplash feels like?

80085 [Me]: ?

55378: Look, I know we haven’t historically been BFFs and all that, but we respect each other academically, right?

80085 [Me]: Sure, I’d say that’s an accurate assessment.

55378: And we both know you’re a hopeless romantic and somewhat delusional, which in this case may be helpful for the essay assignment for Wuthering Heights. I can’t even stomach the idea of watching the movie. I was thinking…

55378: Do you want to watch it together and outline ideas for the essay?

Interesting. Analiese and I… hanging out? Technically, we have been ‘hanging out’ at swim class, but there’s not much talking involved. When we have talked, it hasn’t exactly been a positive experience. In all our years of knowing each other, a friendly, casual interaction has never once happened—not even about the weather. Picturing the two of us lounging on a couch with snacks, discussing the finer points of a movie like actual friends, is almost laughable.

But it also doesn’t seem… terrible?

One thing the CS messages have revealed is that Analiese and I occasionally land on the same wavelength—like when she immediately clocked what bothered me about the beta test without needing an explanation.

So… why not try this and see what happens? Plus, she is right—I do respect her academically. No doubt our essays will come out stronger from our combined efforts, which is always a plus in my book. I need all the GPA points I can get if I’m going to achieve my goal of being class valedictorian. A quick, longing glance at my vision board decides it for me: I’m going to hang out with Analiese.

80085 [Me]: Sure, let’s do it. My family is out. Do you want to come here?

55378: I’ll be there in 15 minutes.

Well. Here goes nothing.

I race downstairs and grab some food, queue up the 2011 version of the movie in the den, and wait for the weirdest hangout of my life. If nothing else, at least the moral high ground is secured: hosting my nemesis, providing food, and being gracious about it. If she baits me into more arguments, I sincerely don’t think I can be found at fault here.

After setting things up, I open Connection Services and respond to Mr. Pi. We’d been laughing about how bizarre our school mascot is. At rallies and games, the whole crowd hisses together because we’re the Vipers, which is… a choice.

Exactly 15 minutes later, the doorbell rings. I can see Analiese’s silhouette through the shaded window in the front door. One deep breath, then the door swings open with my best attempt at a welcoming smile.

“Hi,” I say, then step aside to let her in.

Analiese brushes past without a word, her eyes sweeping the foyer with an expression impossible to read. But the moment she spots the shoes lined up by the door, something shifts. She toes off her sneakers, places them neatly in the line, and meets my gaze.

“Where are we going to watch the movie?”

Right. Down to business. A small, unexpected sting of... what, disappointment? That’s silly. Her thoughts about this were clear, and when have Analiese and I ever exchanged friendly small talk? My emotions have been all over the place lately.

“In the den. It’s back near the kitchen,” I explain as I lead her.

Analiese hitches her backpack on her shoulder and follows, stopping near the kitchen counter to survey the organized grocery list I left there for my mom. Her eyes flick over the paper as she asks, “What store do you shop at?”

I frown, confused by the random question. “Vons. Why?”

She nods curtly then taps the list with her left index finger. “The entrance is near the produce section. You should list produce first, then dry goods, then baking, then personal items. Dairy and frozen stay last. That way it follows the actual path through the store.”