After several hours of convincing an overly perplexed Sonny that I actually intended to give the people from the club a visit and meant no harm to anyone, without telling her the actual reason behind my decision, she finally accepts my request and immediately changes the subject. Still detecting hints of disbelief, I realize that nothing I say will work on her. So, I just ignore everything, and only look at the window behind her. She’s blocking a soothing, gorgeous scenery behind her; it’s not something special, just trees and sunlight; a bit bland, but quite shiny and beautiful.

So this is what a life without a Sonny looks like.

“Hey, did you just hear what I said?” Snapping her fingers, she brings me out of my thoughts.

“Not really; I was looking outside, and thinking to myself how a dumb, useless girl is blocking my view.”

She narrows her eyes after hearing my retort. “That was quite sexist of you.”

“It was meant to be. I take my job of insulting you quite seriously.”

This one makes her eyes widen once more. “Don’t tell me you’re actually sexist. You do sound like you really hate girls with a burning passion.” Sonny leers.

"Well, I do have quite a bad history with them, and as much as I want to destroy you in any way, your race and sex included, I don’t really see any difference between people. They’re all idiots who don’t get along, and don’t know what they’re doing. I see no difference between you, and a fat, ugly dude.”

“You’re still being sexist, and towards your own gender at that. Wow; you’re on fire today.”

“I literally just said I don’t give a crap about anyone.” I snap.

“No. What you literally just said was that you see no difference between me, and a fat, ugly dude. According to the context, and the sentence structure…”

This bitch.

“In order to make a point, you tried to point out the contrast between the two sides; me, and a fat, ugly dude; for the contrast to work, the two sides must be completely different, which means you think I’m actually quite beautiful.” Sonny’s typical smirk appears once more, as she continues to mock me; a smirk that’s not too easy to wipe off her face once it's appeared.

“I never said anything of that sort.” I rest my head on the table. This is getting nowhere. I can’t go around with THAT THING showing a smile like that to me.

“But you implied it, didn’t you?” Her face also lands on her desk and aligns with mine. Her eyes look straight into my own.

“I just said everyone looks the same in my eyes, and that they all suck.”

“Including you?” She asks, as her face goes back to normal, and her condescending tone of mockery almost vanishes.

“Especially me.”

She sighs. I stare.

She peeks at me again.

I look away. “Anyway, that means I’m not sexist.” I huff, crossing my arms.

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re just a hater, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

“Your sarcasm was so subtle I could’ve sworn you were being frank.”

“No, I can’t be Frank. I’m Sonny.”

“And I hate you.”

“I know. Anyway, I wanted to know why you were asking me about those guys. Is it related to the note?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“Then yes.”

“You’re still lying. How the hell is that even possible? It defies the rules of math.” Sonny raises her head, leans back, and stretches her arms. I don’t move. I don’t know what rule I defied, but knowing that I beat math at least once, makes me feel a bit satisfied.

Well, it was about a note, but not about the note.

Sonny doesn’t know the whole story yet.

“Alright. It’s about the note.” I exasperate. “I think there’s a slight possibility that there’s someone in this university that actually knew Oscar, and there’s a slight possibility that they were in the same group.”

“Speak with numbers.”

“Ten percent possibility of an acquaintance existing, and ten percent chance of them being in that very club.”

Sonny hits her head on her table with a not-so-noticeable thud that only I am able to hear. “So basically, a one percent chance, huh?”

My mind goes blank. I’m dramatically bad at math, unlike a friend of mine. Knowing that, Sonny doesn’t wait for a reply.

“So, what about my question?” She asks once more. “Are you going to tell the cops or, at the very least, the guy’s family about the note he left behind?”

“Of course not. This won’t change anything regarding his case; and having a relic of a person you used to love so dearly is bad for your mental health.”

Sonny goes silent. By the way she's looking at me, I can tell her mind went straight to the diary pages I tore, but tries not to talk about it. Instead, after a slight melancholic silence, she gives me another smirk.

“Are you saying that you’re afraid?”

I stay silent and close my eyes.

“Oh, so you are actually. Well, I think it’s a good thing that you’re finally thinking about yourself a bit. I mean, you have been thinking about yourself, but not in a way that counts.”

“That’s not really the case.”

This time, Sonny is the one who glances at the beautiful world she is hiding behind her. A world that seems flawless.

A world too flawless to be real, but too real to be fake.

“So, then could the astute conclusion from our little chit-chat be that you are worried that the note we associated with Oscar Peto, was in fact, written by someone else entirely, and that’s the second reason you’re willing to sacrifice your values of lonesomeness by going to the independent writers group?”

Spot on, but not quite. That’s not the whole story. Yes. I’m going to check Oscar’s other works and compare his handwriting to the notes I’ve found. If the handwriting doesn’t match, then who is sending me these? If the handwriting does match, then how am I receiving these notes?

Is this a ghost story novel now?

“So, am I right?” Sonny’s question seems more of a way for her to manipulate me into talking. As always, she’s not wrong, but that is not the whole plot; she’s still in need of more exposition; but for now, this fake sense of victory, will be enough to satisfy her.

“Yup.” I fake a sigh of surrender. “We need to make sure it was actually him before we decide on anything and assume things about certain things.”

“You sure are using thing a lot. It makes me a bit concerned. Anyway, how are you exactly going to do that? You threw away the note a week ago, and you didn’t even remember what was written on it. You asked me the content of that paper, didn’t you?”

I freeze. I never told Sonny about the second note, so she didn't know what I'll be comparing Oscars work with. "I did get rid of it. I might not know the exact poem word by word, but I can still recognize the handwriting and I still remember the gist of it. I’m neither blind, nor dumb." I blatantly lie about my sense of sight, and my grey cells.

“So basically,” She begins once she doesn’t hear a response. “I’m an important piece of your operation.”

“You’re a redundant piece of my life. And how did you even conclude that?”

“Well, too late. I’m already a piece. You need me now because I'm the only one who remembers the poem.” And with that, she invites herself to my personal issues once more and establishes herself as a piece, even though she's already done enough. I let out another annoyed sigh, and decide not to talk for a while. I feel exhausted.

After the lecture, accompanied by Sonny, I dash out of the lecture room. Surprised that I actually stayed awake for once during the whole thing, she kept aiming her question bazooka at me. I deflected her attacks as much as I could, and it ultimately resulted in her being even warier of me and my behavior. In other words, Sonny was suspecting that something odd happened; odd enough that I actually stayed awake during Mythology for once.

William leaves immediately after he’s done for the day. I don’t know of any way of contacting him, and Sonny hates the guy so much that she has somehow refused to remember or memorize anything remotely relevant to him. Also, I need to talk to him face to face. This matter is way more serious to us. It’s not something to just chat about online.

After catching up with Will in the hallways, Sonny calls for him. We could have easily ditched the lecture and waited for him outside, but for obvious reasons, Sonny rejected that idea immediately. Will comes to a halt and makes a dubious face the second he sees me, approaching him.

“Wow, this is new. What brings you to my lair?”

“You’re in the hallways, Will.” I remind him that he is not in his lair anymore.

“I’m already aware. Hello there, Sonny.”

Sonny frowns at him and takes a suddenly serious tone. “Don’t act friendly with me. I still remember what you did when we first met.” William tenses up immediately and nods in total obedience. Then averts his eyes, and tries his hardest not to look her directly in the eyes, as if he’s afraid of being turned into stone. Whatever happened between them on day one, is a mystery to all, never to be solved; but whatever it is, the mere thought of it is terrifying enough to make Will act out the way he did.

“Anyway, is there anything I can help you with? Is there perhaps a creative group you want to hang out with?” He sounds like a door-to-door salesperson; not really. He sounds like one of those kids who march around, selling odd brands of chocolate biscuits or other kinds of sweets to get an old, barely ride-able bike as a prize or something.

“You said I can visit the club anytime. Is that still an offer?” Will’s eyes widen in shock and anticipation.

“Sure. I’ll do preparations and set a time for today, or tomorrow for some members to come together.”

“And I would also like a copy of Peto's work as well.” William’s excited expression vanishes as soon as the name pops up and gives its place to visible confusion and concern.

“May I ask why? We already talked to the police; I want no more trouble.”

“Didn’t he tell you?” Sonny, who was silent this whole time, finally comes to the rescue. “He wants to write something to commemorate his death, and thinks the best way to know what kind of person he was, is using what he used to create, so he can do another reading session with the club. Isn't he the best?” Sonny shouldn't have come to the recue. Sonny should’ve just shut up. “That’s alright with you, right?” She concludes with a smile gives him her sparkly eyes, concealing all of her lies with a beautiful ribbon as if she was born a compulsive liar. Who am I kidding? She was born a compulsive liar.

“Oh, thanks, I guess.” Not knowing how to respond to her, due to her behavior towards him changing from a murderous look of absolute wrath to a friendly smile, he awkwardly shows his gratitude with a formal tone.

“Well, I actually wanted to tell you something, and was wondering if I should, or should not.” William awkwardly looks around for a moment and looks back at me and Sonny. Just as I’m about to find a way to wrap things up, postpone whatever this was, and go away, Will asks for a private conversation with me. “Can you excuse us for a moment, Sonny?”

Sonny looks daggers at him, before shoving her mouth into my ear, attempting to make him hear her, while she whispers in my ear. “Make sure to tell me whatever he says to you. I don’t want you going around, keeping secrets from me, especially if they involve him.” She whispers quietly, with a burning glare aimed at Will, to make sure he also gets the threat.

“Sure, Sure.” I brush her off with a brisk nod. At least she didn't pull the cliché IF THERE'S ANYTHING YOU WANNA SAY, YOU CAN SAY IT TO BOTH OF US line.

"Good boy," She steps back and marches away in the opposite direction, not taking her eyes off of Will until the second she disappears.

William Warren.

Black hair.

Brown eyes.

A dark-purple T-shirt that has the words “Nothing Much” printed on the front.

“Thanks for being around us. We really appreciate it.” He begins once Sonny disappears from his sight. I nod, and he replies with a sigh. “The nerds over there really like you; and after Oscar’s death, it’s really great to have you hanging out with them.” He continues. “I’m quite certain you’re not doing it for my sake, but whatever the reason might be, I’m quite happy with the results they brought.”

The result would be visiting the club.

“But that’s not what you want to talk to me about, is it?” I ask. My question is answered with a tired sigh. I knew it. Appreciating me could have been done in Sonny’s presence. One would say we haven’t even conversed yet.

“There are things people are saying these days; about a certain blog.”

“I don’t know anything about a blog.” I shoot back a rapid reply. Will is unmistakably taken aback, but tries not to show it on his face.

“Well, anyway; there are rumors going around saying that this blog belongs to a person here.”

“And why would that have anything to do with me?”

“I don’t know how the existence of the blog is going to affect anything, but they say the contents are a bit risky.” I’m already aware.

“Some people even go as far as to associate Oscar's death with that blog, and claim that the anecdotes in it are to blame for his suicide.”

“And is that all you wanted to talk about?”

“Yup. That’s about it. I just wanted to tell you since you seemed to be unaware of its existence.”

I’m the furthest thing from unaware.

“Actually, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued with the concept of the blog, and its possible effects on everything from here on out.” He concludes. With a tone that sounded like he was talking to himself, he concludes.

A monologue that was just loud enough.

“Well, it seems like my job here is done.” He returns to the subject in order to fill the uncomfortable silence he left behind. “I’ll call you with the details about the time and place of the meeting.”

With a swift nod, I bring out my phone to type in his number, but he immediately shakes his head. “Put that thing down. You don’t have my number, but I already have yours.”

Wait.

Why does a person I barely know have my phone number?

I know what he feels towards me is simple interest and intrigue, but anyone would find this situation uncomfortable. After that, Will mumbles about being late and needing to pick something up at the library, and takes off running, leaving me alone in the empty hallway once more.