He's Not Who I Texted

It was supposed to be a joke. A dumb, dramatic text to my best friend after the most soul-crushing Monday of my life. I flopped face-first onto my bed, grabbed my phone, and typed: “Remind me to throw my math book in a volcano. Mr. Graves is a joy thief.” Then I hit send, tossed the phone aside, and groaned into my pillow like a tortured ghost. A second later—buzz. I rolled over, expecting Nia’s usual over-the-top response. Something like “SAME. Let’s drop out and start a smoothie truck.” Instead? UNKNOWN: “Volcano’s booked until Thursday. Want me to handle Graves in the meantime?” I sat up, blinking. Wait... what? Me: “Wait. Who is this?” UNKNOWN: “You texted me. I assumed it was an emergency.” My heart did this weird little flutter. Part panic. Part Who is this actual stranger that thinks they're funny? Me: “Oops. Wrong number. Meant to text my friend.” UNKNOWN: “Lucky me.” Okay... bold. Me: “Alright, mystery person. Consider this your five minutes of fame.” UNKNOWN: “Challenge accepted. I’ll make it unforgettable.” I actually laughed. Not just a nose-snort. An actual laugh. What kind of random person responds like that? Me: “What’s your name?” UNKNOWN: “Let’s make this more fun. No names. Just vibes.” I stared at the message for a second, biting back a smile. Weird. Totally weird. And kind of... interesting. I told myself that was it. Block the number. Go back to my regularly scheduled teenage turmoil But the next day, while I was pretending to care about triangles in math class—my phone buzzed again. UNKNOWN: “Graves ruin your life again today?” I shouldn’t have replied. But I did. Me: “Define ‘ruin.’