His shot came and he took it immediately, almost desperately, and then he ordered another drink before Steve could walk away. The words gin and tonic hung in the air, and it almost felt like someone else had spoken them. With the shot, followed by those two simple words, he knew his night had taken a hard turn.

A Zeppelin tune hung in the boozy air as Joe reached deep into his pocket and removed the blue glass ball. He stared at it in confusion, a wild squint on his face, his brow furrowed, wondering where the damn thing had actually come from. Then he shot a nervous glance to the barroom entrance, knowing Nick could come strolling back in at any moment.

Joe buried the glass ball back into his pocket and then returned right away to his phone. He looked again upon Jennifer’s photos, unable to scroll away from that beach selfie from her college years. While staring at it he felt his body become tingly as his mind screamed, how is this possible? Who is she? It didn’t make any sense—the timelines were fucked to hell. He and Jennifer were the same age—so how could she have been an adult that day? When he was barely a teenager?

Her selfie had been very well-liked—it neared triple digits. Joe clicked to see who had liked it, almost starting to feel like he was on the case. Sure, it was the weakest, laziest form of forensics, but…

A pop-up bubble of all the people who’d liked the post appeared. Joe anticipated a rush of nostalgia by the names he might see on there, old ones from high school that he hadn’t seen or thought about in years. But he felt a strange dismay that there was not a single name on there that was the least bit familiar. It seemed that high school was indeed forever ago. Life had moved on.

But wait. There was one name he recognized.

Eddie Morrow.

His mind grappled with the sudden image of their old classmate, Eddie—his smug expression, and his long, messy hair hanging into his beady eyes. The dark clothes, and that black trench coat he’d always worn. He was Goth—that was his style at the time, his persona. He was somber, and brooding, and somewhat of a loner, an outcast—that is, when he wasn’t competing with Joe, for Jennifer’s affections.

While we were dating too, Joe ruminated, feeling an ancient anger flare into him.

For Eddie Morrow was yet another one that liked to send notes, and Joe remembered seeing some of the messages he had sent to Jennifer. They were bold and aggressive, and in obvious pursuit of her. Inexplicably, he had weird song lyrics and dark imagery sprinkled into it all. Sent to a girl who was sunny and bright—it didn’t add up. She wasn’t compatible. Joe remembered being flummoxed throughout the whole episode—he didn’t know whether to just laugh it off, or to punch the guy in the face. Jennifer had pleaded for him to calm down, to not do anything rash.

Fast forward so many years later, and it seemed Eddie was the big winner in the end. For he’d made quite a turnaround since high school—there was no longer any trace of that dark, gloomy kid, and now, as an adult, he was wildly successful. There was a clear reason why—he was really damn good at tech, and he always had been. Tech—it often felt like the only thing that mattered anymore, if you wanted to be successful. Joe didn’t know if Eddie was a programmer, or an entrepreneur, or what—but either way, it was clear that his old classmate had hit it big. They should all know, too—he posted on social media constantly. So, Joe knew a lot about him these days, more than he wanted to. Eddie had a swank place in Manhattan, for example, which he often boasted about, and another one in D.C. He split his time between the two locations, that is, when he wasn’t out in San Francisco, or Silicon Valley, or one of those annoying places on the West Coast that Joe always had to hear about.

“Busted!”

Joe looked up in alarm, and saw Nick crossing the barroom floor towards him.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you take that shot while I was out there,” Nick added. “Trying to be all covert and shit.”

Joe laughed it off, but he knew he was a bad actor—maybe the worst of all time.

Nick saw right through him. “Dude, are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Joe managed. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. You look way different all of a sudden. Like you just heard some really bad news. What’s going on?”

Joe realized he had to say something. Anything.

“Do you remember this dude? Eddie Morrow?” He held up his cell phone so Nick could see the name amidst all of Jennifer’s likes on her post.

Nick spoke with a hush. “Jesus, man. I used to think we’d graduate and I’d never hear that guy’s name again. Instead it keeps coming up.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s like a social media maven.” Despite everything, Joe felt himself calming down as he spoke. His heart had stopped racing. Speaking idly as he was helped to ground him.

“It’s unbelievable that’s the same guy from high school. He basically had a storm cloud following him around back then.”

“Yeah,” Joe replied. “It all goes to show how people can change. The turnaround is amazing. Now the dude looks charismatic as hell. He’s like… dashing.”

Nick peered over Joe’s shoulder at the phone, studying it. “But ultimately, despite all of his money and good fortune, he still spends his time liking Jennifer Carter’s posts. So I guess not everything has changed, huh?”

Joe rolled his eyes in an exhausted way. “Thanks for reminding me,” he moaned.

“He went after that other girl, too. What was her name? Kind of a freaky chick? Chrissy something?”

“Adkins. Chrissy Adkins,” Joe answered, in disbelief to see her name also in the pool of likes on Jennifer’s post. He’d missed it before—but there it was now, on his phone and staring right at him.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Nick said, nodding. “Chrissy Adkins.”

More memories came flooding back, of Chrissy, another one of their old classmates. Joe could see her snarky grin, and the trendy up-style ponytail she often sported. She wore those both so well they’d become her trademarks, it seemed. Chrissy had been a rare bird—somehow she was both outspoken and withdrawn at the same time, alternating through spells of each. In the early years, she was a cheerleader, bright and bubbly, but by the end of high school she had transitioned in a similar way Eddie had, into a full-on Goth mode. She walked around with him, both of them draped in black, with sullen looks on their faces. It seemed she’d joined his dark world.

“I always thought Chrissy was a pretty girl, actually,” Joe added. “Even after her… metamorphosis.”

Nick grinned. “The black makeup and the chains do it for you, Joe? And all the piercings to boot?”

Joe shrugged. “Hot is hot. I can’t control that.”

“That was messed up when all her photos got hacked. Remember that? Poor girl.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Joe replied, glumly.

Those days had been a toxic stew of adolescent hormones, social media angst, and at times—online depravity. More than a few people had been bitten pretty badly from it, and Chrissy Adkins was on top of that list. Joe shuddered to think about her private—naked—photos being passed around, and how many people had actually seen them. When she was only a junior in high school. What a sad story.

“It’s yet another reason to never go online,” Joe declared. “Nothing good ever, ever happens.”

“Did she and Eddie… date? Or, what exactly was the deal between them?” Nick asked.

Joe shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Eddie Morrow finally got a girlfriend.”

“Well, good for him, then,” Nick added, thoughtfully. Then he tipped his bottle back, and finished the last part of his beer. “Alright, I’m getting out of here,” he said, after a silent burp.

“Wuss,” Joe replied, obligatorily.

“It is a Wednesday night, you know. Not exactly a big party night. I’d rather not be draggin’ ass at work tomorrow.”

“Stop being so responsible,” Joe muttered. “It’s annoying.”

“Look, don’t get too loaded, alright? Save it for Friday night.”

“What’s going on Friday night?”

“We’re all going out. There are a bunch of people in town. Should be fun. You better come out.”

Joe scoffed. “Did you forget who you’re talking to? What makes you think I wouldn’t be there?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you have a date or something? With your girlfriend? With Danielle?”

“Screw you. That’s on Saturday.”

“Poor girl. You’re not even gonna make it, because you’ll be too hungover from Friday. It’s all so predictable. I can already see how it’s going to play out.”

Joe gave a long sigh. “I must say, that is a legitimate concern.”

Nick boomed out laughing. “Ah, who knows what to expect from you, man. It’s great. You’re all over the map.”

“What do you mean?” Joe asked, defensively.

“Well, look at you. You’re in love with two girls, you’re buying ecstasy, you’re getting all flustered on social media, and you’re drunk on a Wednesday. I love it.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s secretly taking calls from some chick, even dashing outside to do so.” Joe felt very proud of himself for suddenly remembering that little tidbit, and for having the wherewithal to strike back with it. “So, who is she, Nick?” he inquired.

Nick smiled. “That Tinder date I had the other night.

“Aha, there we go!” Joe grinned widely.

“I’m not really that into her though.” Nick gave a helpless shrug.

“Oh. Bummer.” Joe couldn’t think of anything to add to that.

“Yeah.” It was quiet for a moment. Even the music was between songs as one had ended and another was about to begin.

Nick stood up suddenly. “Alright. I’ll see you later, Joe. I really got to get out of here.”

“Later, man.”

“Peace.”

They exchanged a quick slap-shake and then Nick strode rapidly out the barroom door.

The instant Nick was out of sight, Joe felt the deep, sinking feeling settling back in, a startling reminder that he’d just been barely warding it off the entire time. With Nick’s departure his defenses collapsed right away—they folded like they’d been nothing. The alcohol reclaimed its firm grip on him, as his eyes felt heavy, his head woozy. Vacantly he noticed his gin and tonic was already down to just the ice. He didn’t even really remember it going down the hatch. But it had—easily.

He felt a frown coming to his face, the shadow of Eddie Morrow still hanging over him. It was obvious enough why the thoughts of his old classmate bothered him so much, if he’d just face it. Because there was a lot more there, more than Nick knew about.

Joe and Eddie had a long history together. They’d actually been friends, once upon a time. It felt like a million years ago.

It was way back in elementary school, back when they could just be kids, before things like girls, parties, and popularity had entered into the equation. Everything was so simple then. Joe had usually been into sports, even from a young age, and not a whole lot else, while Eddie was mostly into video games. But they rode the same bus, and during those long rides in the afternoon, Eddie would talk about all the latest games, especially all the first-person shooter games, which were his favorites. Eventually, Joe grew intrigued, and he’d ride his bike over to Eddie’s house after school, and they’d play. They’d hoot and holler and shout at the screen. Joe actually got hooked on a couple of those games.

But it was sad what happened next. It could be summed up in exactly two words, and Joe murmured them gloomily to himself.

“Fuckin’ middle school,” he said, in the end needing three words to properly convey it.

Those had been treacherous years for so many kids. They’d each been like salmon swimming upstream, occasionally getting picked off by bears—those were the bullies, of course. Unfortunately for Eddie, he was very shy and awkward in those years, and a prime target for the worst of the worst. If it had been purely physical, then Joe could have intervened much more than he did—that would have been a simple, natural role for him. But most of it was online, in places where Joe didn’t much venture, so he was largely oblivious. Cyberbullying was just as bad as anything physical though, and the actions happening in those online spaces were absolute daggers to poor Eddie, who was online—he was online all the time, actually. He was online way too much. It was no wonder that once high school finally rolled around, he had eschewed basically everyone, even Joe, and he’d covering himself in black, and presented his middle finger to the entire world around him.

A dreary Nirvana song filled the air as Joe returned to his phone yet again. He told himself to just put the goddamn thing away, but he couldn’t stop his hands as he unlocked the phone and Eddie’s name was there to greet him in the pool of Jennifer’s likes. Still on auto-pilot, he watched his finger tap Eddie’s name and instantly a profile page popped up, and images of Eddie Morrow were right there to greet him.

As always, Joe found the transformation striking. The kid who once had long, scraggly hair hanging into his beady eyes now had that hair combed back neatly, and his hairline was immaculate. The mean scowl he wore in high school was totally gone, and was replaced with a focused and confident grin. Once he was grunge personified, but now he was business professional all the way.

“Eddie Morrow,” he whispered, still scrolling, perusing Eddie’s posts, wanting to stop but unable to. With each dive further down the page, the unease bit at him deeper, and the bar spun ever more.

A recent one had Eddie in a black sport coat and white dress shirt, with sunglasses on, a drink in hand, standing at a balcony looking over the city. The buildings were tall, like it was Manhattan, and indeed, the location-tag confirmed as much. Near him were a couple of very well-dressed companions, men and women alike, with drinks in hand, smiling like they’d just heard a delightful joke. They were apparently his business colleagues, but the image basically looked like an ad in a magazine. Just another happy hour, was the ho-hum comment, and the post had a crazy number of likes. From the people he knew, Joe was used to seeing likes measured in two digits, but this was a healthy three digits—actually nearing four.

“Is the dude seriously like a celebrity now?” Joe whispered to himself.

Another post had Eddie sitting by the window on a plane, with a whiskey glass in hand. The obvious comfort and spaciousness of his seat screamed that it was first class. Outside the setting sun cast red and yellow fire across the sky and into the cabin, making it glow. Making the best of a long flight, was the insanely well-liked comment.