Watch Me Disappear

some sex fiend posing as a teenage girl. I’ll hear her voice and talk to her and maybe we’ll make a plan.
     
    *          *          *
     
    I dial the number Missy gave me and after a couple of rings it goes to voice mail. I guess everyone screens calls from numbers they don’t recognize. Makes sense. I leave a message, and a minute later she calls back.
    “Wow! It’s so cool to finally talk to you,” she says. “We should have exchanged numbers weeks ago.”
    It’s true. For almost a month I’ve been walking my butt off to carry out a choppy Email correspondence with her, and all I ever needed to do was pass along my number. It’s absurd. Then again, the eternal problem: How would I have explained to my parents this newfound friend? Even at that very moment, if my mother came in and asked who was on the phone, what would I say?
    “So listen,” I say. “My parents are kind of strict.” I pause, trying to figure out how to explain my predicament.
    “Look, if you don’t want to go, it’s cool,” Missy says, suddenly sounding defensive.
    “That’s not it at all! Let me explain.” I tell her about how I have been sneaking around to use Facebook and how as far as my parents are concerned I have yet to make any friends here. She waits patiently.
    “Geez,” she says when I finish. “There must be some way, though, don’t you think?”
    “I don’t know. I mean, what’s a plausible way we might have met?” And as I say the words, I think of one. “We could say we met at the library,” I say, before Missy has a chance to throw out any ideas.
    “Hmmm, that could work, unless your parents talk to my parents. I’ve never gone to the library here.”
    “My parents are pretty big on meeting friends’ parents,” I say.
    “What if I go to the library tomorrow? That way, at least my parents will know I’ve been there,” she says.
    “Wait, do you drive?”
    “Yeah, of course.”
    Of course. Everyone going into senior year of high school drives. “So you can just go there any time?” I ask.
    “Sure, but it’s really close to my house, so I don’t really need to drive.”
    “And you can walk from the library to the concert?” I ask. A plan is developing. I will tell my parents I am going to the concert with a girl I met at the library, and that we are meeting at the library before the concert to walk there together. Then my parents can pick me up at the end of the night and meet Missy and everything will be cool. Even if they want to meet her first, my mom can drop me at the library and meet her then. I convey the idea to Missy, and she’s on board.
    There is only one other thing to find out: What she looks like. For one thing, I have to greet her as if I’ve seen her before and recognize her easily on sight. For another, what if she looks like a freak? My parents will not be OK with me going anywhere with a Goth, or a grungy girl, or someone with piercings, tattoos, or a crazy hair color.
    “OK, well I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but can you tell me what you look like?”
    Missy laughs. “Yeah, my parents will only let me use Facebook if I don’t post a picture. Apparently they’re afraid some creep will stalk me.”
    I feel better. I’m not the only one with strict parents, and Missy isn’t afraid of posting a picture because she’s strange looking or something like that. She tells me she’s 5’8” with curly red hair and freckles.
    “Anyway, I’ll recognize you from your picture, right, so I can just greet you with extra enthusiasm to convince your mom we’ve known each other for ages,” she says.
    When we hang up the phone, I am amazed at myself. Can I really deceive my parents this way? Am I becoming the type of person who makes friends online? I’m also nervous. It is so easy to be both utterly invisible and boldly outgoing online. I have presented myself as a confident, witty person, but I know I’m anything but. What if in person we have nothing to talk about? What if Missy meets me and immediately thinks I’m not cool? But as nervous as I am, I am excited to have concocted a sneaky plan with a friend. It seems like such a stereotypical teenage thing, and yet it’s something I’ve never before done.
    If a secret plan isn’t enough to create the initial bonds of friendship, what is?
     
    *          *          *
     
     
    After Missy and I get off the phone, I begin mentally rehearsing how to ask my parents to let me go