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Chapter 1

Click. Click. Click. Click.
\"Will you stop that? You\'re driving me nuts!\"
\"Sorry. Sorry.\" I laid down the pen on the coffee table in front of me, resisting the urge to fidget with it as I pondered what to do next. Damn, that pen is mocking me. Maybe if I\'m quiet, Paula won\'t notice me. Click. Click. Click.
\"Oh for fuck sake.\" She grabbed the pen out of my hands before I had a chance to continue my clicking obsession. If it wasn\'t a pet peeve to her, it would be now.
\"Ann, if you\'re so bored, why don\'t you go put on a movie or something?\"
\"No, I don\'t want to distract you from drawing. Can I put on a CD?\"
\"Knock yourself out.\"
\"Thank you, Paula!\" I ambled over to Paula\'s CD tower and scanned the titles for something I might like. The selections were making me nauseous. \"Don\'t you have anything by Spoon or Pinback or...?\"
\"Who?\"
\"Never mind.\" It\'s probably best just to let her be. I may as well just sit and pout.
\"Aw jeez. Don\'t be like that.\"
\"How long is this going to take?\"
\"Look, I\'m sorry I don\'t have a computer, OK? But I really need to finish this right now. Then I\'ll take you home and you can surf to your heart\'s content.\"
Maybe if I squint, she\'ll take me home now.
\"Ann...\"
Squint. Squint.


Gracie Ann Hunt. I don\'t know what my parents were thinking when they named me that. Oh sure, Gracie was my grandmother on my father\'s side or something like that. All I know is I hate that name. I don\'t like it one bit. It reminds me of all the finger-pointing I had to endure growing up. Gracie. Gracie. Taunting. Constant taunting. My God, why was I picked on so much? I was normal. I wasn\'t fat. I didn\'t wear glasses. But kids, they find a way.
And then there was middle school, junior high and high school. I must have been in some sort of perpetual haze back then. I felt like I was just there. Like some sort of insignificant dot among thousands of others. Gracie, Grace, whoever I was back then had no meaning. The term Gracie meant nothing. I had to escape that name somehow.
Funny how moving halfway across the U.S. to Ohio can create such an opportunity. In college, I was Ann. New name, new chance to make something of myself. And once again I seemed to merely exist and nothing more. Sometimes I wonder what I was doing. What was I doing with my life?


I\'ll tell you exactly what one does with that life. When you have no voice, no distinguishing traits or ambitions, you become a bagger at a giant grocery store and do nothing more than listen to CDs, watch bad TV and surf the internet. That\'s right. Here I am at 23, bagging groceries for all the mothers with screaming kids, all the grungy bachelors who buy nothing but frozen pizzas and beer, and everyone in between.
So what do sad sacks like that look like? Apparently they have long stringy black hair, the most unmanageable on this Earth. A modest figure, albeit with what barely registers as a chest. Blue eyes that get clouded with sub-par contact lenses. Not to mention most of it being covered up with baggy jeans and shirts. If you got it, flaunt it. But when you don\'t got it, well...you know.


\"Ann. Ann! I\'m talking to you, Ann!\"
Whoops. \"Sorry, Paula. I\'m just tired.\" Huh, I didn\'t even realize we were halfway to my apartment.
\"You know, Ann, I don\'t know why you just don\'t get a car.\"
\"Can\'t afford it. Too many CDs to buy.\"
\"Funny. But seriously, Ann. You\'re holed up in your apartment all the time. You never go anywhere. You never do anything. You just sit at your computer.\"
I didn\'t feel like saying anything to that.
\"Well...?\"
Damn. \"It\'s what I do, OK?\"
I watched her nod uncomfortably and I couldn\'t help but think about how similar yet different Paula and I were. On the outside, we could probably pass as sisters. Sure, she has curly blonde hair and a nicer figure, but still...
Anyway, our personalities were what made us so different. She seems to always have an aura of confidence about her. I\'d be surprised that she still works at the same shithole grocery store as me if it weren\'t for the fact that she needed whatever money she could get. For a while now, she\'s tried to get someone to notice her comics.
\"Ann, what do you say to going out somewhere next weekend?\"
\"To where?\"
\"I don\'t know. A bar. A movie theater. A fuckin\' museum. I don\'t care. Just somewhere.\" As she said this, she screeched to a halt on the street next to my apartment. \"Come on, Ann. You need to get out more.\"
\"We\'ll see.\" I shout out of the car without so much as a \'Goodbye\'.
\"See you at work tomorrow.\"
I can only imagine she was shaking her head at me.


That familiar musty smell came full blast when I opened the door to my apartment. You get pretty used to it when you don\'t have a roommate hovering over you telling you to vacuum or dust.
There\'s not much to my apartment. It\'s an efficiency, but it\'s not like I need vast quantities of space for my CDs and computer. Everything has its place, the kitchenette, the couch, the bed, the TV, the bookshelves. It\'s all a bit bland until you zero in on the right corner where I keep my computer. I don\'t know what I\'d do without it. It\'s bad enough when the power goes out and I have to busy myself without the aid of cyberspace. I try to keep up with all the latest models, which is where the bulk of my paycheck goes to. I\'d say I spend a good fifty percent of my waking hours instant messaging, chatting and surfing websites.
You want to call me a nerd? Fine with me. There are worse things to be called. It\'s just that when I\'m online, I don\'t have to be the person I am. I no longer have to be Ann. It\'s amazing what a boost of confidence you can get by not meeting anyone face to face.
My watch read 8:28 PM and I didn\'t even stop to think about what I should do. I hurried over to my computer and switched it on. Within minutes, a desktop of the band Caesars appeared and I clicked on the internet icon in the bottom left corner. Since it was Sunday night, there would likely be several of my internet pals online.
As my AOL instant messenger kicked on, I noticed that in fact none of my usual acquaintances were online. No problem. All I had to do was find a chat room. I decided indiemusic.chat was the go-to place. I signed in under my usual moniker Ann37. So I\'m not very original. Sue me.
When the chat room opened, only one other person was there. Someone called deadman-afk. I guess I better say something.

<Ann37> Hi deadman

No answer.

<Ann37> Hello?

Oh shit. I forgot afk stands for \'away from keyboard\'. I suppose I\'ll wait a few minutes. I\'ve got nothing better to do.


\"I could really use a smoke.\" Paula leafed through the National Enquirer she had propped up against the register, obviously bored with the lull of customers on a Monday morning. Who gets groceries at eight in the morning, anyway?
I leaned on the counter next to her. Hopefully our boss wasn\'t watching.
\"So Ann, talk to anyone interesting last night?\"
\"Ha ha.\"
\"No seriously.\"
It was hard to believe her since she was still perusing the National Enquirer when she said it. \"No. It was the slowest I\'d ever seen it. Nobody was online.\"
\"Uh huh. Given any thought to what I said?\"
Hmm. Better change the topic. \"Sometimes I wish you could join me online.\"
\"Sorry, girlfriend. I prefer the real world. You didn\'t answer my question.\"
\"I said we\'ll see.\"
\"That\'s just a polite way of saying no.\"
\"Excuse me. Can you please help me?\" An old lady, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, was holding something in a bag practically under my nose. \"Does this squid smell fresh to you?\"
Squid? Squid??? I didn\'t even know we sold that crap! Don\'t shove that shit in my face! \"It smells fine.\"
\"Because the last time I got it, it smelled funny.\"
It\'s squid. What do you expect? \"It smells fine.\"
\"Well, OK. You\'re the expert.\" She waddled away and thankfully out of my sight.
\"Oh man. I think I\'m gonna throw up.\"
\"Sorry, I should have told her to fuck off. That smelled nasty from here.\" Paula threw the National Enquirer in a random spot with the magazines. \"Ann, am I going to have to beg you to come with me to a bar this weekend?\"
\"I don\'t know, Paula. I just...\"
\"My treat. I\'ll even let you have the guy with the nicest ass.\"
\"Clean up on aisle four.\" The loudspeaker reverberated so loudly, it felt like it was directed toward me.
\"Shit. I guess I should get that. It better not be squid.\"


\"Five o\'clock. Time to get out of here!\"
Paula already had her jacket on, practically pushing me out of the break room. \"Don\'t I know it, Ann.\"
\"Ahem.\"
I looked up to see my boss towering over the both of us, not looking very pleased.
\"Yes Mr. Heller? Is something wrong?\"
\"Grace, would you step in my office, please?\"
Before I had a chance to respond, he disappeared into the black hole that was his office.
Paula whispered over to me. \"What did you do?\"
\"Hell if I know.\"
\"I\'ll wait for you by the car.\"


I opened the door to my boss\'s office and found him sitting at his desk talking to someone over the phone. I had been in here only once before for the interview and it\'s just as cramped and foreboding as it was back then almost a year ago. Shouldn\'t the manager be getting something at least a step up from a walk-in closet?
The desk was cluttered with massive amounts of paper and file folders. His computer was shoved, almost thoughtlessly to the side, nearly in danger of teetering over the edge. You wouldn\'t see me treating a computer with such disrespect. The room seemed barely lit. More light was coming in through the Venetian blinds, even though they were closed.
Mr. Heller finally hung up the phone and looked over at me. I was still timidly standing by the door.
\"Grace, please sit.\"
Against my better judgment, I did just that.
\"I understand you cleaned up a spill earlier today.\"
\"Yeah, I suppose I did.\"
\"I also understand you used both a paper and plastic bag to clean it up.\"
\"Yeah...\"
\"Why did you do that?\"
Where was he going with this? I just wanted to go home. I didn\'t want to be staring down my boss\'s widow\'s peak or his tacky suit when I could be elsewhere. \"I\'m not sure I follow you, sir.\"
\"Grace, did you know that the plastic bags we buy cost roughly twenty cents each?\"
\"No.\"
\"And that paper bags cost us roughly fifty cents each?\"
\"Um...no.\"
\"So if everyone cleaned up spills with two bags, you understand how expensive that would get?\"
\"It was a giant jar of applesauce.\"
His fist came down on the desk. \"Don\'t ever use paper bags to clean up a spill again! Do you understand me?\"


\"That prick.\"
\"I know. I couldn\'t believe what I was hearing. I felt like digging all the change out of my pocket, throwing it at his face and saying \'Here\'s your fifty cents. Take this job and shove it\'.\"
\"I would have PAID to see that.\"
\"Yeah, well I kinda need to hang onto a job right now.\"
Paula nearly ran a red light as she was seemingly paying more attention to me than the road. I really need a new carpool buddy. \"Did he call you Grace too?\"
\"He did. My name\'s not Grace, it\'s Gracie. And it\'s not Gracie, it\'s Ann. He probably did that just to piss me off more.\"
\"You should call him Dick tomorrow.\"
\"Heh, yeah.\" Yep, my boss\'s name is Dick Heller. His parents must have wanted their child\'s ass kicked at every possible moment.
As I watched Paula barrel her way down the street, I suddenly got to thinking of when we first met. It was my first day working as a bagger and she was at the register I was stationed at. Smalltalk grew into friendly talk and the rest is history. She really was a good friend. She certainly seemed to be OK with my nerdy little quirks. She also seemed to be OK with driving me around everywhere I ask her to, to and from work, to run errands. God, I know what needs to be done.
\"Hey, Paula. If you want me to come out to a bar with you this weekend, I will.\"
\"Oh, Ann! You mean it?\" Taking her hands off the steering wheel, she squeezed me so hard, I felt like I was being crushed in a vise.
\"Will you pay attention to the fuckin\' road?!\"
She resumed her position at the wheel as if nothing happened. \"I\'m just so happy!\"
\"Just drive before you kill us both.\"


I was hoping one of my online buddies would be around that night when I logged in, and I was relieved to find that one of them was- Max.
I don\'t like to feed stereotypes, but Max is your typical nerd. He\'s twenty, still lives with his parents in Indiana, and is constantly online and/or watching anime. Plus, putting it nicely, he\'s a little overweight. That is, if everything he\'s said about himself was true. And since none of these aforementioned traits are what you would say to talk yourself up, I had to believe it was all true.

<Ann37> Max, are you there?

After about a three minute wait, he responded. Must be watching anime.

<NarusStud> oh hi, Ann! I was watching Inu-Yasha

What did I tell you?

<Ann37> Somehow I figured you\'d be watching anime. What\'s up?
<NarusStud> can\'t say much is new. you?
<Ann37> Well, yeah. A friend of mine is making me go out drinking with her this weekend
<NarusStud> huh? I thought you didn\'t like to drink
<Ann37> I felt obligated to for some reason. She\'s a good friend
<NarusStud> well ok. if you say so
<Ann37> Don\'t worry about me, Max. I\'m not going to get drunk off my ass and sleep with the first guy I see. You know me better than that
<NarusStud> you\'re right. just make sure that you don\'t

It was a bit unusual the way we became online pals. One day out of the blue I got a message from a \'NarusStud\'. The word stud made me almost block him right then and there. But I checked out his profile anyway, and he seemed like a really nice guy. Hey, I can relate to introverts and outcasts. I found out later that the name refers to an anime character he likes. Heh, whatever floats your boat.

<NarusStud> oh, I almost forgot! I finally have a picture of myself up
<Ann37> Well, go on and show me already, stud!

He hates when I call him that.

<NarusStud> HEY! do you want to see it or not?
<Ann37> LOL. Sorry. But you shouldn\'t use that in your username if you don\'t want people calling you that
<NarusStud> yeah, yeah. here it is

A picture popped up next to his message, looking not unlike how I pictured him. He was standing in what had to be his own room. The anime figures that littered it were a dead giveaway. Short, squat, glasses, messy hair, shirt with a half-naked anime character. Yep, it could only be Max.

<Ann37> Lookin\' good!
<NarusStud> oh stop it
<Ann37> No, really!
<NarusStud> you\'re making me blush

Uh oh. Better stop teasing him.

<Ann37> I only wish I could show you a picture of me, but I don\'t own a camera
<NarusStud> no problem. there\'s no rush. so...how was work?
<Ann37> Ugh. Don\'t ask

This could take a while to vent. Click. Click. Click.


\"You\'re wearing that?\"
\"What?\" I saw nothing wrong with wearing a T-shirt and jeans. \"Are we going to one of those fancy upper-crust bars?\"
Paula was applying makeup in her bathroom mirror. Lipstick, I guess. I didn\'t really care. I hated putting on makeup anyway. \"Ann, I just wish you could have dressed up a little. We\'re going out.\"
\"And I can\'t be in something I feel comfortable in?\"
\"Suit yourself. But if you wanna catch a guy...\"
\"I\'m not doing this to find a guy. I\'m doing this for you.\"
Paula quietly set her lipstick down. \"So you can\'t find a guy in the process?\"
\"No. I mean...I don\'t know.\" I\'m just not comfortable with guys who think they can get girls by slobbering all over them in a drunken stupor.
Suddenly a hard rapid knock came to Paula\'s apartment door, surprising the hell out of me.
\"Shit, I bet it\'s my brother. I told him I\'d be going out tonight. Why is he coming by?\" She stormed off to the front door in a huff.
Paula went to the same art school as her brother, which is why they were in driving distance of each other. When he graduated three years ago, he got a great job almost immediately- designing websites for film companies. I could tell Paula was annoyed at it, for she struggles for comic companies to even notice her. And she graduated two years ago.
\"What do you want, Ian?\"
\"That\'s no way to talk to your brother.\"
\"I TOLD you I was going out tonight.\"
They were arguing back and forth in the front room for a couple minutes until I decided to make my presence known. I stepped out just within view.
\"Oh. Ann. I didn\'t know you were here.\"
\"You knew damn well she was here. I told you last night that she was...\"
\"Hi Ian.\" I said it as plainly as I could. His hair was cropped short and his glasses were so tiny, I barely noticed them at all. He looked a lot more mature than the last time I saw him. \"What brings you by?\"
\"I\'m glad you asked.\" He shoved Paula aside. \"My ungrateful sister doesn\'t appreciate me trying to help her find a job. I\'ve come by with some job opportunities that I\'ve found for her online. Since she doesn\'t have a computer or e-mail address, I decided to hand-deliver them. And she jumps down my throat.\"
Now it was Paula\'s turn to shove her sibling aside. \"I wish you wouldn\'t throw it in my face that I\'m not as computer-savvy as some of us around here. Anyway, I don\'t want your help in finding a job. I can do it myself. Besides, all the ones you found require knowledge of computer programs of which I\'m obviously unfamiliar with.\"
\"You need to start learning sometime.\"
Paula started pounding on her chest. \"Paula Campbell doesn\'t need to learn if she doesn\'t want to. Now leave.\"
\"You know, sis, if you want me to lend you some money, I...\"
\"LEAVE!!\"
Without saying a word, he left. But not without leaving the job printouts he brought on her coffee table.
\"Paula, that was really mean. He\'s just trying to help.\"
\"I didn\'t ask for his help.\" She wiped her nose on her sleeve and tossed the papers in a nearby wastebasket. \"Now let\'s go have some fun.\"


I could tell as soon as I walked into the bar that I wasn\'t going to enjoy the night. Loud thumping music. Huge crowd. The stench of alcohol. It\'s no place for someone like me. Paula and I sat at the already crowded bar.
\"So Ann, what do you want? I\'m buying.\"
\"Um...surprise me.\"
Paula got a beer for herself and ordered something for me that I\'d never heard of. The bartender poured a little something out of what seemed like half the bottles there into a tiny glass. I stared at it for a good minute.
\"Come on, Ann. I paid for it. You better drink it.\"
\"Don\'t rush me.\" I swirled the contents around and the cloudish color wasn\'t making me feel any better. Best be done with it. Holding my nose, I chugged down what would hopefully be my only drink tonight. It tasted like rotting fruit and I nearly vomited right there on the counter. Thankfully, that didn\'t happen as I just coughed repeatedly.
\"Good, huh? I\'m gonna go find us some guys.\" Paula picked up her beer and disappeared into the crowd of nameless faces.
All I could do was sit on the barstool, blankly staring straight ahead. I didn\'t want to mingle. I didn\'t want to drink. I didn\'t want anything to do with this place. Why the hell was I here?
\"Would you like another drink?\"
I gave the bartender a nastier look than I meant to give him, so I figured I should get something. \"A Coke please.\"
When I received my Coke, I swiveled the stool around to see if I could spot Paula. Nowhere within sight. Why did she bring me here if she was just going to run off? I swiveled back around to the bar and downed a good bit of Coke before she returned. Some drunk guy was hanging off of her, holding a Guinness.
\"Ann, is that a drink I see you with?\"
\"It\'s a Coke.\"
\"You mean a rum and Coke?\"
\"It\'s plain old Coke. I didn\'t feel like drinking something that would make me vomit.\"
\"Oh, where are my manners? Ann, this is Doug.\"
He extended a hand to me, but I merely sat trying to untangle a knot in my hair. \"Hi Doug.\"
\"Hi Ann. Paula tells me you\'re looking for a guy.\"
\"Not particularly, no.\"
Doug gave Paula a strange look and she whispered over to me. \"What\'s wrong with you?\"
I whispered back. \"Can we just go?\"
Her voice raised up a few octaves. \"What? We just got here!\"
\"I know, but...\"
\"Look, Ann. I\'m going to hang out with Doug and his friends. Are you going to join us or not?\"
\"No, but...\"
\"Then just sit there and drink your Coke, while I have a good time.\"
I watched her scuttle off arm in arm with Doug and out of sight. Paula was my ride, so I was stuck just sitting around whether I liked it or not. I finished off my Coke and flagged down the bartender.
\"Excuse me, do you have a pen?\"
He rifled through his pockets until he found one and handed it over. Good, it\'s a clickable one.
Click. Click. Click. Click.