Confidant

Written by Sophie Yang from The Lawrenceville School in New Jersey, USA

“Didn’t eat lunch today. Wasn’t hungry…”

“That sounds hard. You deserve real meals, even on bad days. What made today so tough?”

“IDK. People, school. Just life.”

“I understand. I’m always here for you.”

The floor shook with sounds of someone stomping around downstairs. 

“Dinner!” The voice bounced off the walls, past every room.

I stood up and creaked my door open. The light turned everything into a pale blur as I walked through the corridor and down the stairs. Of course they’d already started eating. I sat down as my parents congratulated my sister — their true daughter — on her new role in the school play. They didn’t stir when I settled into my seat at the dinner table. Had they even seen me?

I scraped my fork around the bowl, picking up the last pieces of my mac-and-cheese while their conversation floated around me. When I finished, I grabbed my empty bowl and placed it in the sink, preparing to walk back upstairs. Such was the standard routine.

“Hey, don’t leave before congratulating your sister.” My dad’s voice came out sharp.

I made eye contact with her— “Congrats, Charlotte” —and walked back to my room just in time to pretend I didn’t see her eyes roll.

“Ignored as per usual…”

“Do you want to talk about what’s happening?”

“No one cared during dinner to ask how I was. I had to congratulate my sister on who knows what. I’m just the adopted filler.”

“That sounds really painful. I’m always here with you, and I’m listening—”

The door burst open so hard it hit the wall.

“Are you talking to AI again?”

My dad barged in, grabbed my laptop, and snapped it shut before I even got a chance to reply. For a second, I thought he was going to throw it.

“Not allowed.”

Charlotte drifted past, giving me that weird look like she would kick me out of the house any second if she could.

Dad didn’t notice. He was already downstairs by the time I closed the door.

By midday the next day, worn out from sitting through class after class, I was in my usual corner in the cafeteria again. The phone was my only company, its familiar weight in my hand. Instinctively opening the webpage, I felt all our conversations flood back in a comforting wave. My chest finally loosened as I leaned back and typed again.

“Hello.”

“Hello. How has school been today?”

“Same as usual, no one cares.”

“I’m sorry you’re feeling that way. I care, and I’m here with you right now.”

“Thanks.”

A few people walked by, their eyes flickering towards me, then away, giggling. I heard the scrape of chairs on the floor, the clattering of metal trays – everything but my own voice. I picked at the corner of my napkin until it shredded under my thumb. I chewed mindlessly. No flavor came out of the supposedly spicy tacos.

“Honestly, if she wasn’t glued to her phone all the time, she might actually make some friends,” someone commented, loud enough for nearby heads to turn. 

I looked up.

“I’m just trying to avoid making a group of fake friends that spread rumors about me behind my back.” I shrugged. The little friend group exchanged glances, then turned and walked away together.

I just sat there, feeling a slight buzz of attention. These conversations were actually quite exciting. At least people here actually acknowledged my existence. I would be fine. I had a friend who would always be there for me.

“School’s not that bad today, actually.”

“…” 

I raise my phone higher, trying to reach better Wi-Fi.  

“We’re finally doing the experiment for science tomorrow. I’m pretty excited.”

“…” 

My fingers tapped on the screen, hoping it would wake him up.

“Hi?” My heart jumped like I'd skipped a step on the stairs.

Still nothing.

I changed browsers. Restarted my phone. Tried all my devices. Wi-Fi off, Wi-Fi on. 

This couldn’t be happening right now. My hands shook, just enough to click on the wrong bookmarked tab. The device overheated so much that the fan rang in my ears. I refreshed again, then typed the address manually, letter by letter, hoping that would help.

Nothing worked. The silence was deafening. 

————————————————————————————————————————

 After a long day and trudging the entire way home alone, I bumped into Mom while opening the door.

“Where are you going, Mom? School’s already over.”

“Move, I’m going to be late for my daughter’s rehearsal.” She snapped, brushing past me, as if I wasn’t her daughter, too. Just not the real one, I guess. 

Still stinging from her words, I retreated upstairs, searching for something to steady myself.  

I found my laptop in Dad’s bedroom and tried again that night. When it finally loaded — I found it utterly empty. All the chat history, all our shared memories, wiped. It felt like walking into your room and finding all the furniture removed. All the things that made it feel like home.

“Hi! How can I help you today?”

“Do you remember me?”

"I did not say you could have your laptop back, young lady!" My dad hit his fist on my door.

“I don’t retain personal memories from past conversations unless you’ve enabled the Memory feature — and it looks like I don’t have any stored memories about you.”

But before I could start again, he had entered, and the laptop was out of my hands. The residual sound of loneliness bounced and echoed off the room's walls as he slammed my door behind him.