Cat’s head lay in Hannah’s lap for the next two hours. The sweet girl swept her fingers through the crusty and bloody hair without a hint of judgment. Cat tried not to cry, but was reduced to a melted puddle of sobs by the end, lamenting about how much of a burden she was, how horrible she was as a person, how she was going to fail everything from having to take time off of class and work, how she was destined to be poor and lonely for her whole life. What kind of person just kept leeching money from her parents? After all the opportunity they gave her? And what kind of person would hardly stand up to Peter as an example?

Hannah sat and listened the whole time, not interrupting, not correcting. She just murmured quiet signs she was listening while Cat coughed and struggled to breathe.

“A-and,” she stammered as she gasped for air, “he would e-e-even do it ag-g-g-gain, af-f-fter all I said, h-h-how shitty I am--” Cat interrupted herself to sob a little more before she continued, “I don’t even know if--if I could in his shoes. I c-c-can’t even turn--hic, hic--around without falling, how c-can I save anyone like tha-a-at?” Her head ached so hard, throbbing as if it punished her for even daring to think she might be strong enough to save a life. “I’ve ne-e-ever saved anyone. I don’t think I ca-a-an! Why-y am I worth saving?” Hannah’s legs were so soft against her head; Cat didn’t deserve anything so merciful. Especially the friendly girl’s hand rubbing gently in time with her breathing against her spine.

“Honey,” Hannah started for the first time since they’d gotten back to their dorm, her voice so soft and gentle that Cat nearly didn’t hear it. “Can I say something?”

Cat only managed to stop herself from sobbing just because she simply asked. She sniffled, then turned her had to glance up to Hannah.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” Cat continued, wiping her nose with her hand. “Go ahead. I’m sorry.” Hannah grimaced, then swapped from rubbing her roomie’s back to her arm. It was as if it was a warning: comfort time is almost over. Time to breathe.

“Bad people don’t worry about this stuff.”

“What stuff?” Cat asked. Did she already forget what Hannah said? Was she already that poor of a listener?

“Being a bad person.” Hannah sounded like Cam for a split moment. Cat blinked up at her, eyes crusted with sadness, shame. “Good people worry about being good. Bad people don’t.”

Cat wiped a few tears away, feeling their coolness against her hand. She already begun to feel a little tired, a little relieved an hour ago. But Hannah had a way of putting a neat, little bow on things. A way to finish an argument that may have started months ago. She wasn’t ready to stop feeling sorry for herself before, but now that Hannah spoke, maybe it was time to move on.

“What do you mean?” Catherine asked. Finally, she slowly worked her way to sit up next to her friend. Though her whole body screamed and ached at her, the part of her that knew it was time to get up and brush off her pants told her it was time to listen, to sit up and hear what Hannah had to say.

“I mean, you nearly died today--kind of--and instead of worrying about that or making a bucket list, you have spent the whole last couple hours crying because you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to save someone else’s life. That doesn’t make you shitty.” Was that true? Cat sniffled, then stared at her crossed legs. “If you don’t believe me, ask anyone. Kelsey, Cam. Should I call them and ask?” Hannah’s face was lit up with so much genuine earnesty, that Cat smiled and shook her head.

“No, not tonight.” But the thought made her eyes swell again. “Why are you so good to me? You didn’t sign up for this.” As Cat went to squeeze Hannah’s hand, the blonde laughed.

“Girl. If you don’t think I’m turning in a favor for this, you are seriously delirious.” The girls shared a laugh. “Come on, let’s shower, get in jim-jams, get you some rest. Rest up all day tomorrow so that Saturday, Kelsey and I can bombard you with romance movie choices.” How could anyone say no to that?

The shower took nearly an hour to get through; Cat even had to, horrifyingly, ask for Hannah’s help in washing her hair. It hurt too much to touch herself; she couldn’t even think about approaching the back of her head without help. Hannah seemed to be completely immune to any type of shame, though. For herself, for others. It wasn’t so bad.

But the night fell, dark and comforting, smelling sweet and fresh, by the time Cat returned to her room. Pain meds kicked in, the peanut butter crackers Hannah gave her satisfied her enough to stop the growling of her stomach, and now they sat across from each other on their beds in robes with their hair in towels.

Cat frowned with her mind still on the earlier conversation.

“No, really,” she started as Hannah began to start her supposed 10-step skincare routine. “You’re so nice to me. I’ve been blowing you off all week, and you’re just….” Cat was too exhausted to cry again. Hannah shrugged, but gave a small smile.

“You’re sounding like you haven’t had a nice friend before. In which case, allow me to teach you: Good friends don’t judge. Good friends just sit there, absorb, comfort, and love. It’s fine. I guarantee you that you will deal with my drunk-ass sobbing about less things way more often than you will feel like a bad person.” Hannah’s genuine smile made her heart swell.

“Is this what it’s like to have a sister?” she asked, sort of aware of how corny it was. Hannah let out a belly-laugh.

“Hell no! Unless the next time I pass out, you give me a glass of vodka when I wake up and then make fun of me for being a lightweight. Or if you sleep with my boyfriend and make fun of me for not being able to satisfy him, then give me vodka to get through Thanksgiving while she introduces him to the extended fam as her ’next hubby.’” Although Hannah laughed with her, every word she said sent alarms through Cat’s mind. But, the laughter said maybe now wasn’t the time to ask about such a specific example.

Maybe Hannah was such a sweet girl because she was in desperate need of someone to be there for her. Instead of asking the rush of questions that entered her mind, Cat laughed, joked, and finally towel-dried her hair to prepare for bed.

“Girl’s night Saturday,” Cat promised as she started to crawl into bed. “And then, we pretend like we never felt sad.”

“Now you’re getting it!” Hannah announced. “Grin and bear it!” Despite laughing, Cat silently wondered how many times Hannah was told that to prevent her from crying just the way Cat did.

She still went to Communications, despite Hannah’s protest. But it was laughably simple. Read, stare at the board, write notes. Peter kept turning around to look at her, But Cat paid no mind. Did he think a headache would stop her from paying attention? Please. She had the rest of the night to nurse her aching brain. Friday was easy.

Friday night, though, when she couldn’t remember where she put her room key (it was in her hand), Hannah convinced her to call out of work for the weekend. Sitting and occupying a desk was one thing. Taking and memorizing coffee orders was another. If Cat’s parents didn’t just wire her a hundred and fifty bucks, she would’ve gone anyway. But maybe some rest was needed. And she could literally afford to eat, now, so....

And Saturday, surrounded by no one other than Kelsey and Hannah, Cat’s mood couldn’t be tainted. Movies, popcorn, old childhood stories exchanged while sitting in the middle of the dorm room floor: it felt like a sleepover from her middle school days. Kelsey and Hannah were welcome distractions to her headaches, her periodic dizziness, and overall sluggishness. To Cat’s immense surprise and relief, Hannah didn’t mention a single thing to Kelsey about why she fell by the pond. Every embarrassing detail that Cat admitted to while sobbing in her lap was hidden behind her witty jokes.

It wasn’t that Kelsey wasn’t awesome. But for Hannah to automatically keep something a secret without prompting, was...refreshing. A step better than high school, at least, when her “best friend” told everyone when Cat finally “did it” with her boyfriend.

While Cat’s mom emailed, asking for information about the guy that saved her, she wanted to correct her mom and say, “No. Hannah’s the real MVP. She deserves your tamales.” Instead, she just asked her mom to send some tamales to her and Hannah. She’d consider giving one to Peter. Maybe. If he happened to be around when she opened the anticipated care package next week. (Otherwise, she couldn't even guarantee they'd last long enough to gift.)

But until then, Cat found herself excited for a package that arrived just in time for her to pick it up on Monday. Her dad’s old phone. One of the newer ones: a touch screen with Internet access and everything.

Cat could hardly get her mind to focus on one thing at a time when she got it right before lunch. Part of her worried about work and Communications, part of her ached despite Hannah’s timely OTC pain meds, and part of her indulged in Kelsey’s loud fantasies while she waited for every update on the planet to load on her new, fancy brick.

“Have you downloaded Talkative yet?” Kelsey asked, nudging Cat. A drip of mustard dripped from her hot dog onto the edge of Cat’s plastic chair. She raised her brows, and Kelsey retreated with an apology.

“I haven’t downloaded anything yet. There’s been updates since I turned it on,” she said with a shrug. “What’s Talkative?” She had no idea the question would delight her friends so much.

“Oh my god!” Hannah cried, despite knowing Cat’s headache was quite bad today. She reached across the table, almost dipping her elbow in her french fries, and took Cat’s phone to check on the progress. “It’s the best. Anonymous, free. You gotta download it. Sheesh, seventy percent.” She set it back.

“It’s location-based, too, so you can talk to anyone here.”

“But anonymous!” Hannah reiterated. She retreated to her fries and leaned back in her chair. “People only know you’re in the area. And they only know who you are if you tell them.” Why in the world would that be something she would need?

“Look, they have teacher reviews and everything.” Kelsey shoved a screen in Cat’s face. A simple, dark layout had a chat thread opened by the username YoYo95: Dr. Popadopulous. Responses varied from “fair” to “bastard hit me with his car and I still didn’t pass his class.” Cat’s eyes went wide.

“What’s the point of it?” As if this question offended her, Kelsey snatched her phone back and began searching.

“Look. Look at this.” Another thread, this one titled “Best place to poop?” The answers were...surprisingly helpful. Cat never considered just going to the bookstore’s bathroom when nature called. She offered a laugh.

“Okay, I didn’t think of that.”

“Oh, it’s so funny, too. Great time-killer. Look at this thread. Roast My Subject.” Kelsey scrolled to another. “You reply with a roast to whatever the person before you prompts. Like--HAH!” She scrolled to the bottom.

Cat decided to read it out loud for Hannah’s benefit: “Subject is English Majors. PumpkinKing said--” She couldn’t help it. She started to giggle a little as she read, “‘English Majors are people that learned how to read and couldn’t learn how to do anything else.’ That’s harsh!” The girls laughed at a few of the earlier replies before Cat’s phone signaled that it was done with updates.

“That thread was maaaade for you, Cat,” Kelsey said, as she returned to her hotdog and fries. “You’re sharp like that. You’re going to get so many people.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have introduced her to it,” Hannah joked with a full mouth. They laughed.

It took a little coaching, but Cat eventually figured out how to download the app and start to create her account. She hesitated. Nickname…. She looked to her friends. “Who are you on it?”

Kelsey shook her head. “Oh hell no!”

“A-non-ny-mous!” Hannah sounded out slowly as she pounded her fist on the table. It made her head ache a little, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as when she was hungover.

Cat shrugged. “But it’s asking for my email.”

“That’s for password authentication and stuff,” Kelsey said, waving it off. “They never use that stuff. Except for like if you get hacked, or do a bomb threat or whatever.” Cat hesitated even more, now.

“Bomb threat?” She raised a brow.

Kelsey sighed. “I mean, nothing’s actually anonymous on your device. The government is always watching.”

“Oh, you mean like that. Well, yeah...but no one else can figure out who’s who?”

“Not without, like, a warrant, I don’t think. Or if you’re like the developer or whatever.”

Hannah decided to steal some spotlight. “I mean, be responsible. Don’t be an asshole just because you’re hidden. It’s still the Internet. Everything is forever on the Internet.”

“Like this supposed nickname I have to register,” said Cat. “I don’t even know where to start.” She looked to Kelsey, the supposed expert on the subject.

“Um, not with your name, obvi. But like when instant messenger was still a thing, before Skype, I was PrincessNotPeachy.”

Cat scrunched her nose. “I can’t tell if that’s cute or not.”

“Yeah...give it some thought. Do something original. Weed420 is a username that has like twenty variations.” Hannah and Kelsey spent the rest of their free lunch hour trying to jog nickname ideas for Cat, like old pets, old nicknames that weren’t very obviously feline-related. Cat liked to think her poker face was pretty good. Truth was that as they spoke, she had already picked out a nickname and made her first post, a response to PumpkinKing, whose prompt was Ugg Boots.

“Ugg boots: Almost as basic as PumpkinKing. Roast: me.”