It All Started With Women's Rights -Frerard-

Friend Conscious

Hey, I texted, It's Frank.

I honestly wasn't expecting a response, but I wasn't surprised when I got one. I just wanted to have me in his phone so he wouldn't have to ask who it was if I called. I actually preferred calling to texting believe it or not. Unlike a majority of people in my class who texted in class constantly, resulting in a lot of confiscations. I felt the phone buzz again, reminding me I hadn't responded. I picked it up, turning my attention from my homework.

Hello, Frank. It's GW- but you probably already knew that :D

He was literally a kid. I laughed at the message and responded, still chuckling.

Yes, I did know that.

I waited a second before texting again.

Mind if I call? I prefer calling over texting.

Oh, really now? he responded, I will be seeing you tomorrow, you know.

I know, but everyone will be ahead of me with the project and I want to talk to you about my ideas!

Fine, he texted back, but you call. :P

Alright :)

It only rang twice before he picked it up. I leaned back in my desk chair and smiled, excited to share my ideas with my new (and only) friend. I tapped my pencil on the desk, getting my notes out to share.

"Hello," I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Hey," my smile obvious in my voice as well.

It felt good hearing someone other than my concerned mother on the other side.

"Don't 'hey' me, mister." He paused, "Well, how are you?"

"Excited, you?"

"I'm great. Excited, eh? About the project or calling me?" He teased.

"Haha... both. Well, one, this project is going to be the shit and, two, you are my only friend. So, yes, I'm excited to finally use this phone for more than just calling my mom when she forgets to pick me up from something."

He laughed, "I see. Usually, it's the salespeople who call me."

I laughed at that comment, "Looks like we have at least one thing in common. No one calls us."

I could hear him shift. The room didn't sound echoey when he did so, so I guessed he was in an office of some sort. I grabbed my notebook and he cleared his throat, signaling his subject change.

"So, you wanted to tell me your ideas?"

"Yes! Here's what I've written so far," I paused, finding the page, "No one quite knew who he was, nor where he came from, but something about him caused others to stare. Was it in hate? Was it in awe? Or perhaps in romantic interest? None of the above. You see, they didn't know why they stared. It was something about the way he walked, talked, and even glanced around as if he was being followed. This man was mysterious. He was dashing and was known by some only by his looks. But that was it. No one knew his name. No one knew where he lived. He just showed up one day as soon as people started spreading rumors about this one man in town."

He was quiet for a moment, processing it. He laughed, startling me, "Frank! My, my... What am I going to do with you?"

"You like it?"

"It's amazing. Where do you want to go with it?"

I heard a patter of feet in the hallway. I whirled my chair around just in time to see my mom open the door, "Frank, why are you on the phone, and on a Tuesday for that matter? Nevermind, who are you talking to?"