Cliche Cops ✓

Chapter Four | Risky Texts

Each community service project lasted different amount of times. Usually you knew how much time you gave up. So far my current project seemed to be a bit of a mystery. 

It was the last period of the day, which also was my free period today. Stupid school rules said I couldn't leave the premises of the day and I should study. Who can even study at the end of the day? I just want to go home and sleep!

I was sitting at one of the many tables in the study hall by myself. The table was in the corner away from the sunlight that streamed through the large windows that decorated the walls. It was a relatively empty session so I could've slept if I wanted to. I sat with my books opened and a few pens scattered to make it look like I was working if any teachers walked. I'm pretty sure everyone hates the you-should-study-and-not-waste-time lecture that teachers gave us as the wasted our time.

I hadn't received another text message from CC after I helped Emily. The text messages were brought back to my attention when my mum sent me a message.

Will be home later. Warm up leftover pizza to snack on. xx

After a quick reply of ok, I started to look over the messages from CC. It turned out I received messages from two different numbers! The more informative messages were from one number whilst the others were from the 2nd number. The 2nd number's messages were sent as if they could see me...

Could they see me? Or was I being paranoid? Who was CC and what did it stand for? I could just ask...right?

My thumbs hovered over the keyboard on my screen. Too many questions and not a single clue of whether I'll get an answer or not. I wasn't even sure which number to try!

I should try... I mean what's the worse that could happen? No reply?

I decided to go with the 2nd number and typed out one of my many questions but decided against it and deleted it. Maybe something less curious than what does CC stand for, how about:

How long does this project last?

I pressed send before I changed my mind and quickly locked my phone. I stared at the blurred words as I twisted a piece of my hair with my fingers. I shouldn't have done that...

I contemplated the consequences of my actions as I glanced at my phone every few seconds. Should I have added a thank you at the end? Why wasn't this as easy as my previous projects?  I'm doomed! My phone screen lit up.

Did I even want to see the reply?

To be honest, yes I do.