Chapter Two // hotline #2

"Which hotline is this one, now?"

"Shhh, Daniel. It's ringing."

"A. A. Hotline at your service. How can I ANONYMOUSLY help you today?"

Ummm. What the hell? Is this a joke? Fucking Silena. She probably did this on purpose.

"Don't be scared," the voice in the phone continues with enthusiasm, "the first step to getting on the track to becoming sobre is accepting that you have a problem. And this is the perfect hotline to help you. Now repeat after m-"

I cut the call off.

"Shut the hell up, Daniel! Stop laughing!" I tell even though. Laugh is trying to break out of me.

"I can't- he-he-help it," he wheezes.

I try to shove him but he's too far out of my reach, so I grab a pillow and wave it threateningly at him. He raises his hands up in a surrendering motion but still continues wheezing away.

"It's just- you should have seen your face, Lilah!" he starts laughing again, slapping his knees while doing the silent seal laugh. I drop my face into the pillow I'm holding and start talking into it.

"I should have never let Silena pick the hotlines," I mumble into the pillow. Daniel abruptly stops laughing at hearing my friend's name.

"What do you mean? I thought you picked all the numbers."

"Well . . . kind of." Silena originally chose about twenty hotline numbers and gave them to me without their hotline names. I, then chose ten nice-looking numbers.

"No, no, no, no," I say and explain what Silena and I had done.

"So, wait. Let me get this straight. You chose ten 'nice-looking' numbers. What do nice-looking numbers even look like?" he asks, full out grinning.

"I can't exactly explain it to a person who can't appreciate good looking number," I say, giving him a dirty look. "But they were just the right blend of odd and even numbers. And they were just so nice-looking," I say with a dreamy smile. I shrug and cross out that number off my list. "How was I to know that one of those numbers would be an A. A. Hotline?"

Daniel starts laughing again, so I throw my pen at him. It hits him on the head and I do a fist pump in the air. "Admit it, Lilah," he says rubbing his head, "you are never going to find that 'Hawt Guy'. This stuff only happens in books, not in real life."

"Ugh, stop being such a party pooper," I scowl. "Maybe that stuff does only happen in books, but they are really damn good books," I say with appreciation." Last summer, I had somewhat forced Daniel into downloading some books and making him read one of my favourite books, Anger Management by GeolaReader. And he had fallen in love with it even if he won't ever admit it.

"Oh, all right. They are were good," he begrudgingly agrees. "But that doesn't mean that you'll find love like those book characters did."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not looking for romance, dear brother. I'm just having a little fun and looking for a Hawt Dude friend and maybe some other friends. God knows I need better friends than Silena," I mutter still a bit irritated at Silena.

"First of all, stop calling us guys 'dudes' it's annoying," he says waving my pen at me.

"Gimme that." I grab for my pen and nearly fall of my bed in the process but manage to snatch it out of his hands in the end. "So what's the second thing?"

"Huh?"

"You said first of all," I remind him.

"Oh, yeah,"he smiles sheepishly, "I kinda don't know where I was going with that tirade so just keep in mind the first point I made."

I laugh at his antics and shake my head. "Do you need me to make you something to eat or get you anything else?" I ask getting off the bed.

"Nah, I'm good," he says rolling his eyes. "Just because I'm partially disabled doesn't mean I'm incapable of doing things for myself."

"I know. But I'm about to go make myself a midnight snack so I thought I'd offer to make you something too," I say shrugging my shoulders.

"Like I said, I'm good. See ya tomorrow, kid." He waves as he wheels himself out of my room.

Daniel's not wrong. He can do things for himself. He can use his crutches for a short while if he needs to make himself something to eat. And his wheelchair can sort of elevate him to reach the counter too. He has some feeling in his legs and he can pull himself up without support for a short time. But that's it. I wish . . .

I shake my head to stop my line of thoughts and make my way towards the kitchen to make my midnight snack.