Read Online Are You Still There by Sarah Lynn Scheerger - Free Book Online

doughnut. “This is a campus improvement project. We have nothing to do with police officers. If someone calls up and confesses, you should try to get them to turn themselves in.” She scans the room as if looking for comprehension. “But please know that the purpose of this line is to support people. Sure, it’s a response to what happened on this campus, but it is run by us , not the police.”
    I want to believe her. I really do.
    â€œWhat should we do when we respond to a text, and then the texter leaves us hanging?” Cruz asks.
    â€œNothing,” Paisley says slowly, like she’s surprised by the question and has to think it through. “The texter knows you’re there and will text back when he or she is ready.”
    â€œSo what happens if that person texts back after we’re closed?” Garth calls out.
    â€œGreat question.” Paisley wipes her hands on a napkin. “They get an automated text back, just like the callers get an automated answering machine saying we’re closed for the evening and here are our hours.”
    â€œThat’s good,” Cruz jumps in. “We had a last-minute texter who just said, ‘Are you still there?’ and then after I texted back there was nothing.”
    â€œThat happened to us too,” a few people call out.
    â€œHuh.” Paisley scans the room. “By a show of hands, how many people got a text like this right before closing?”
    Every hand in the room goes up.

Stranger’s Manifesto
    Entry 6
    What’s this?
    A helpline?
    Come on. Really?
    I’m insulted.
    Call me cynical, but I say,
    â€œToo goddamn little … too goddamn late.”
    Just who the hell is it supposed to support?
    A sicko like me?
    Might be fun
    To watch them try.

10
    Dad sits cross-legged on his bed, playing solitaire. I stand in the doorway, digging my toes into the carpet. He looks up from his game. “Oh hey, baby. You all set for bed?”
    â€œAlmost.” I sink down next to him, and my weight makes the cards shift position. Dad has played solitaire since I was a little kid, but I wonder if the cards have new meaning to him now. Does he see the blacked-out mouth of that queen? The ticking bomb by her feet? I consider asking him about it, but I don’t want to get Chloe in trouble. She’d probably been digging through his wallet to scavenge for a loose ten or twenty, hoping he wouldn’t miss it.
    â€œDad, did you hear about that helpline the school set up?” My throat closes up a little.
    He deals the cards out again. They look so white against the dark navy comforter. “Yeah. I think it’s up and running.” He says it as casually as if he’s talking about pulling a bunch of guys together for a game of two-hand touch football.
    â€œCould the police department place a wiretap on something like that?” I touch the bedspread.
    â€œWhy would they want to?” he asks, studying the cards before placing a few down. “Aren’t those crisis lines supposed to be confidential?”
    I am purposely vague. “Uh, maybe if there are risk issues or something like that.”
    â€œOh, you mean if someone’s suicidal and says they just slit their wrists or something?”
    Not really, but okay . I just wait for him to go on.
    â€œI think in an emergency like that, and with the person still on the line, the police could trace the call to save the person’s life. That would be considered a kosher reason to invade someone’s privacy.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œWhy do you ask?” He looks up from his cards.
    â€œNo reason.” I kiss him good night on the forehead, and he returns to his game. But I peek back at him as I leave the room. His hands are holding cards, but his eyes are watching me. When he sees me looking back, he quickly looks down.
    We have a safe under the desk in Mom’s office. My parents keep private stuff in there. Documents,