Leland shut his bedroom door and dropped his head.

The last thirty minutes felt like a fever dream. He had met one of his favourite artists, and that hadn’t even been the crazy part. End of the world? Superpowers? What was going on?

Usually, he got some extra studying done, but today he rejected the urge to capitalise on the healthy habit, deciding to nod rhythmically to the beat in his headphones instead. Most days he listened intently to the rapper's words, catching the clever rhymes and acknowledging the switches in flow, but today he simply revelled in the instrumentals.

After a short while, his frown turned into a smile. He spun, followed by a sharp kick with his right leg, and began to moonwalk across the bedroom before dropping down, unleashing a whirlwind of breakdance brilliance. His muscular frame and legs rotated in time with the beat in various ways, both biceps straining to support his body weight. To finish off, he sprung up and executed a sequence of complex-looking shuffles, his legs seemingly defying the laws of physics.

Shuffling was what he believed to be his… speciality.

They were difficult to master, but once you locked them into your procedural memory they were incredibly fun to do, especially since they were not too physically draining.

Leland was self-taught. He started dancing “seriously” when he was fourteen, but he had always liked the idea of doing it. Then one evening, completely on a whim, he watched a tutorial for one dance move and found himself rehearsing it throughout the week until it was mastered. His grandad didn’t seem to hear or care about the noise. So it became his thing… a fun hobby.

Whenever Leland was stressed and alone, he danced. There was something about it that gave him a sense of peace. Maybe it was the joy earned from refining a certain move and finally perfecting it. Maybe it was the satisfaction of moving his body in unique, unusual ways. Or maybe it was the control— his body moving the way it wanted to. Unlike speaking, you couldn’t really mess up freestyle dancing. All you had to do was move your body in time with the music.

No one knew Leland danced, and he preferred to keep it that way. He wasn’t sure why exactly, but did he need a reason?

Eventually, he lay sprawled on his bed, breathing heavily. He smiled for a while but it still reverted to a frown. His fists clenched.

Buzz, buzz.

Leland sat upright and reached for his phone on the desk. He scoffed at the message notification and shook his head.

Maggie: Rematch, rematch, rematch, rematch.

Leland: Hey. Have you considered giving up? You know, sometimes it’s best to just quit and accept defeat.

Maggie: Rematch, rematch, rematch. Get your ass online.

Leland: Are you a masochist? You’re not going to win. You never win. Stop this madness.

Maggie: Nah, I almost got you yesterday. Stop playing. I cornered your king twice.

Leland: Well, that’s a lie.

Maggie: I DID. YOU KNOW IT.

Leland: I know you’ve lost your goddamn mind. Let me say this one final time and make sure to read it numerous times so the harsh reality sinks in real good.

Leland: You.

Leland: Will.

Leland: Never.

Leland: Beat.

Leland: Me.

Leland: In.

Leland: Chess.

Maggie: Rematch, please.

Leland laughed. He couldn’t help but admire her tenacity. Maggie had 50 consecutive losses against him, yet she still challenged him boldly. A true glutton for punishment.

Leland: I’m tired. Another time.

Maggie: Are you okay?

Leland: No, not really. School can be so draining, you know? And then I’m wondering if going to university is the right choice. It’s stressful.

Maggie: Why the uncertainty? I thought you were determined to be a doctor. You’re a smart cookie and a try-hard.

Leland: I don’t know. I might not have the interpersonal skills required. I’m introverted.

Maggie: You shouldn’t let that stop you. Practice. You can do this.

Leland: What about you? How’s the tennis?

Maggie: Good. I’ve got another tournament coming up. It’s going to be easy wins. Easy, easy, easy wins. My serve is broken, Leland. I should be banned. These poor girls don’t stand a chance. I almost feel sorry for them.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Leland: Hahahaha

Maggie: I’m seriously serious. I’m aware of how egotistical that sounds but it’s the truth! Okay, slight exaggeration there ;)

Leland: I hope you win! You remind me of one of my friends. He wants to play football professionally, he’s good and very cocky. Maybe you two would get along.

Maggie: Hehehehehe. Maybe, maybe. I can’t wait to see you in real life one day! When I inevitably play at Wimbledon, I’ll be able to see you :D

Leland’s smile vanished.

Leland: Of course. That would be cool. But to be honest, I never really thought of doing something like that. I mean, for all I know, you could be a 54-year-old dude.

The tick next to his message turned blue, indicating that Maggie had seen it, but there wasn’t a response until five minutes later.

Maggie: So you don’t trust me? All our conversations and you think I’m not who I say I am? Wooooow. Can you do me a favour and explain the extent of this distrust? So you think I’m a big fat dude called Chuck who isn’t from Australia?

Leland: Your words, not mine, but come on Maggie. This is the internet! Anyone can fabricate a false identity online. Don’t you think I could be someone that I’m not?

Maggie: No, you paranoid worm. I trust you and you’ve earned that trust.

Leland: HOW? And don’t say through video games.

Maggie: Through video games. My intuition. You’ve talked about your daily life to such an extent that they can’t be false. Duration. I’ve known you for three years. You are very clearly who you say you are.

Leland: I’m sorry but that’s naive as hell. Someone could easily take advantage of you! This is why you suck at chess!

Maggie: IT’S THAT.

Leland: ???

Maggie: When you say things like that, I know I can trust you.

Leland: I see… Your mind works in mysterious ways.

Maggie: Thank you. Now trust me.

Leland: lol. That’s not how trust works.

Maggie: Yes it is. Go on. Do it. Trust.

Leland: I trust…

Maggie: :D

Leland: … that you are horrible at chess.

Maggie: :(

Leland: Better safe than sorry. You’re still my friend. Go to sleep.

Maggie: It’s morning here dummy and I’m not satisfied. My day has been ruined.

Leland: Exaggeration?

Maggie: No. How do I gain your trust?

Leland: It’s not that deep.

Maggie: No, but it is.

Leland: …

Maggie: I’m waiting.

Leland: Shiiit, I don’t know. You need to be in my chemistry exam tomorrow, that’s how.

Maggie: So I have to be someone you’ve seen in real life. Is that what you’re implying?

Leland: I guess I am.

Maggie: Bet. Look at me glaring at you.

A photo appeared on his screen. For a split second, he was confused but then he cackled.

For the first time, he saw Maggie in real life. Sort of.

True to her text, she was glaring intensely but the photo was so close up that only squinted blue eyes and a wide nose could be seen.

Leland: Very nice.

Maggie: Thank you. I try.

Leland: No, seriously. That’s the best glare I’ve ever seen. Well executed. Flawless. May I ask why you’ve sent this?

Maggie: You know what I look like. You can trust me now.

Leland: Again, that’s not how trust works and I only know what one-third of your face looks like. That doesn’t count. And before you say anything, no, that doesn’t mean more photos will change anything. I’m going to sleep.

Maggie: WAIT. Let’s call. That should work, right?

Leland: Nah.

Maggie: Why?

Leland: I don’t know.

Maggie: You don’t know what???

Leland: Good night!

Leland turned off his phone. Shutting down the device was an easy countermeasure to avoid Maggie’s inevitable spamming.

There was no chance in hell he was going to talk to her on the phone.

Stuttering, typically, was an annoying pest, but it became a far more terrifying beast when conversing on the phone. Simply thinking about the phobia embarrassed him tremendously, though the emotional response was far from irrational.

For Leland, calling someone was like a competent, blind ninja fighting an enemy with loud rock music blaring in the background. First of all, it was sometimes difficult for the person on the other end to know that he was stuttering. Second, he couldn’t rely on social cues such as smiling or retaining eye contact to diffuse the awkwardness.

Therefore, he avoided talking to anyone on the phone as much as he could. Whenever he did, it was always reluctantly. The last time he did so was one year ago when his grandad had forced him to talk to a friend, and it was one of the most uncomfortable and frustrating experiences of his life. His stutters were so long that he gave up mid-sentence multiple times, which he still regretted.

He had let the stutter win that day.

“Pathetic,” Leland muttered. “Fucking pathetic.”

----------------------------------------

*Tick, tock, tick*

Pathetic. Fucking pathetic.

Leland stared at the ticking clock on the front wall of the Chemistry classroom. Since he had finished his exam with ten minutes to spare, he used the time to echo his sentiment from last night. He considered going outside to attempt to talk to strangers again, but he had more studying to do and, more importantly, the task felt impossible, creating a mental barrier that he knew all too well.

Perhaps he could just avoid academic responsibilities for an evening and indulge in video games and listen to his favourite albums. It would be easy. Future Leland would lose his marbles, but who cared about that loser? That guy was a try-hard anyway and would have it sorted out for sure.

Yes. Avoid.

That’s what he would do.

In fact, life would be so much easier if he just forgot about his problems. It was such an obvious solution. Why hadn’t he thought about it sooner?

An intrusive thought quickly dissolved his ingenious master plan:

“One last thing. You would be wise to follow Mark after school tomorrow!”

The bell rang. Leland quickly put on his backpack and darted out into the hallways.