It yielded me a dozen or so links so I began clicking through each one trying to decipher which one I thought Fin would have chosen. The first two were environmental, which I didn’t think was Fin’s path, seeing as she had mentioned she could relate to the charity itself and I didn’t ever remember her speaking about it like it was high up on her radar. I knew what kind she would have chosen but, to be honest with you, I was praying it was something else. I caught a few pictures of Hạ Long Bay and couldn’t believe how freaking awesome it looked. No wonder it’s such a tourist destination.
The third link took me to a site dedicated to feeding the impoverished. I set this one aside to investigate further and was just about to click the fourth link when my phone chimed. I had a text message.
landed in seattle, it read.
I gulped down the flurry of questions settling at the tip of my tongue and wrote instead, how was the flight?
I set my laptop to the side and moved to the edge of my bed, my leg bouncing up and down, my phone in my hand, waiting for a reply.
uneventful can’t believe i have almost 9 hours here
I typed out about a million replies but erased them all. I had no idea how to talk to Finley anymore. I couldn’t believe what an absolute douche I’d been to her and wondered how in the world she still wanted to be my friend. I’d said some of the most insensitive things you could possibly say and she took it like it was nothing, which made my chest throb.
tired? I asked.
nope. wanna play a game?
always, I teased, feeling anything but playful.
Finley was out there doing something good for the world. I didn’t have the luxury of not being generous with her. It was the least I could do.
ever heard of galcon, she asked.
Knowing Fin played this game did something strange to my insides. “You are surprising, Finley Dyer,” I told no one.
you’re such a dork, I replied instead of the truth.
ba ha! I know but it’s so fun. just DL it.
I have it, I admitted.
A few minutes passed without a response.
okay, fellow dork, i’m in upsilon-2, come find me, she finally answered back.
We played for at least two hours and when all was said and done, we ended up dead equal. My phone rang.
“You summa ma’ beach!” she exclaimed when I answered, making me laugh.
“Thought you’d have the upper hand, eh?”
She sighed. “Yes, actually. I am a rock star at Galcon. You’ve stolen a little bit of my thunder, dude.”
“Sorry. Not sorry.”
“I’m a little flabbergasted, man. I’ve been on the leaderboards for, like, ever. I thought I was going to school you.”
“Please,” I began, then paused, “wait, did you say you were on the leaderboards?”
“Yup.”
I was skeptical. “What name?”
“TailfFin96.”
I couldn’t believe that. “You are screwing with me.”
She laughed. “No, why?”
“I’m Tatooine436.”
“Shut—the—truck—up! You’re Tatooine436? I feel like punching you and kissing you at the same time.”
I laughed. “This is wild.” We’d been trading the second and third spots for months now and I had no idea.
“I’m a little flustered about this,” she admitted.
“It is a pretty crazy coincidence.”
She was quiet a moment. “Crazy is right. I wonder if the number one spot is, like, Patrick or something.”
“Jeez, I hope not.”
We laughed and talked the entire day. I even took her with me on a few errands and then to pick up lunch. We ate together with half the country separating us.
“Ethan,” Finley said after a lull.
“Yeah?”
“What are you gonna do with your days?” she asked. I could tell she was worried.
“I’m gonna get a job, Fin.”
“And?”
“Then, well, just take it one day at a time, I guess. I tossed my secret stash today. I’m going cold turkey.”
“Good,” she said, sounding relieved.
I let the silence set up my next question.
“Fin?”
“Uh-huh?”
“What’s the name of the, uh, charity you’re going to work for?” I asked as effortlessly as I could.
“It’s called Slánaigh,” she answered. “It means ‘to safeguard’ in Irish.”
“That’s cool,” I offered with no other questions.
I had no idea what she’d said, which frustrated me to no end. It sounded like slunug with the “s” dragged out a little and the “g” had a slight hard “ch” sound like the “ch” in Bach. I knew I wouldn’t even be able to guess how to spell it if I tried, but I didn’t want to press her to find out. It would alert her to my possible snooping, and I wanted her calm for her eleven-hour flight to Seoul. Plus, she’d gone to such efforts to keep it under wraps from me.
Finley had to get off the phone at noon because she thought it would take a while to get through customs. When I let her go, I returned to my search. I perused through countless links searching for anything that sounded close to slunug but I had no such luck.
I fell asleep searching and woke when I heard Dad’s footsteps in the kitchen.
I leaned against the doorjamb. I’d taken off my shirt but had fallen asleep in my jeans. “Dad?”