Your name is Ryan Drozdowski.(A stupid name for a girl, you think, but you can’t control your parent’s decisions.) You’re 15 years old. It’s August, 2009. Next week, you start your sophomore year of high school. There’s nothing to look forward to. You’re not popular, and you don’t have any friends.
Today, you’re home alone like usual. Your parents aren’t cruel but they’re neglectful; working-class, too busy to make time for you.
Looking for ways to occupy yourself, you dig through unopened boxes from the old house. (It got foreclosed last year. You don’t understand why the bank took it away, but you miss that place and you hate this fuck ass new apartment.) You hope to find something interesting tucked away in all the junk, the folded up clothes, the tacky holiday decor.
Against all odds, you do.
Your fingers brush against the cold metal of a silver flip phone you don’t recognize. It must have belonged to your older sister. (You don’t remember her having one, but you don’t remember her well at all. She died when you were 7, or ran away, or something like that. Your parents don’t talk about her.)
The moment you pick it up properly, it rings loud enough to make you jerk back and wince. An electronic jingle fills the otherwise silent air of your living room. Too sudden. After taking a breath, you flip it open with your thumb to pick up the call.
It goes quiet again. It’s dead.
… Strange.
You can’t find a charger in the box. You can’t find a charger in your room. You’re bored, and the mystery of this phone grabs your attention enough to warrant investigation. Something about it beckons you. It’s only half past noon. Your parents won’t be home for a while.
What do you do?
>Hop on your bike and try an electronics store, maybe an employee can help >One of your neighbors is probably home. Try knocking on some doors >This phone probably has an SD card, right? Maybe you can get that out and see what’s on it