As the weeks went by Pam got more and more comfortable chatting with WScranton8. They hung out in the same chat rooms, playing mostly the general trivia they were both good at, and they would chat throughout the games—which led to a lot of “you missed a question,” but it’s not like either of them were winning anyway. Well, sometimes, but only if there were enough of the right kind of questions. So they were perfectly happy whiling away the time in good humor. WScranton would hug “Morgan” electronically whenever she entered the room, and soon she would do the same to them.

She still wondered whether they were really from Scranton, what their name was—basically, anything real about them. But she was leery of letting her own secrets out, so she didn’t ask. Still, she paid close attention to any scraps of information that came her way. Until one day they were chatting and they let something big drop.

MorganLaFey: hey

WScranton8: hey

MorganLaFey: hows it going?

WScranton8: really well actually

WScranton8: i made varsity today

MorganLaFey: congrats!

MorganLaFey: what in?

WScranton8: oh guess I never said

WScranton8: basketball, actually

WScranton8: i play for my hs

And there it was. A perfect opportunity to find out more about this stranger who was no longer a stranger. But Pam…couldn’t. She just stared at the words she had automatically typed out—“oh, where do you go to hs?”—but she couldn’t send them, because she couldn’t risk having to answer the question if they asked back. She thought about the guys who played JV basketball at her high school: were any of them WScranton8? There was a William Weaver…but she remembered him as a particularly stupid kid, and WScranton8 was definitely not that. Then she thought about Wyonna Howell, who played JV on the girls’ side. She could be WScranton, but…somehow she was really attached to the idea that this person, who she didn’t really know, was a guy. She realized she really wanted them to be a guy. But probably not William Weaver. And with that realization she knew she couldn’t ask. Because she’d be disappointed if he wasn’t from Scranton, and she’d be scared if he was. Because if he was he suddenly became real, and she’d have to do something with this little bit of her (ok, a big bit) that really wanted him to be a hot guy. And if he was, she’d have to do…something with that information, and she just knew she wouldn’t and she’d disappoint herself (and maybe him, she thought sadly) and…that just wasn’t going to happen.

So she didn’t send it. But she spent so long not sending that he noticed. Of course he did. Because he always noticed her.

WScranton8: huh. I guess I never told you anything like that before.

WScranton8: like, I’m not even sure you knew I was in high school.

WScranton8: and I think you’re probably about my age? At least, we seem to have the same interests ; )

WScranton8: but I guess we really don’t talk about that stuff

WScranton8: you ok?

She was. Somehow the fact that he’d noticed her hesitation made the hesitation itself OK. Like because he talked about it she could too. Not like she was going to suddenly go all A/S/L on him or tell him that stuff about herself, but she could address the fact that they weren’t going to.

MorganLaFey: yeah

MorganLaFey: it’s just

MorganLaFey: my mom said not to tell that sort of thing to strangers online

MorganLaFey: and it’s not like we’re strangers now or anything

WScranton8: but we are even if we’re not. I get it.

And that was the thing. He did get it. And she felt comfortable with him. But she still wasn’t going to go any further. And she thought he’d understand. So she decided to tell him.

MorganLaFey: yeah.

MorganLaFey: hey, wanna make a deal?

WScranton8: sure. what?

MorganLaFey: let’s make that official

MorganLaFey: we can talk about anything, right?

WScranton8: yes?

MorganLaFey: so we agree: we can talk about anything but we won’t talk about anything personal

MorganLaFey: i mean not personal

MorganLaFey: not like personal-important, personal-personal

WScranton8: like social security numbers or addresses or credit cards

WScranton8: or like what high school i just made varsity at? ; )

MorganLaFey: exactly

WScranton8: sounds fair

MorganLaFey: good

WScranton8: so we can like talk about our days and how we’re feeling and what we thought of a movie, but nothing that might get stalker-y or get you in trouble with your mom

MorganLaFey: yes!

MorganLaFey: we can even have a code word if we think the other is talking about something out of bounds

MorganLaFey: like, we can call each other “stalker” or something

WScranton8: how about “mom-stuff”?

WScranton8: like if we went back to the start of this conversation

WScranton8: and I said that thing about making varsity

WScranton8: you could say “congrats! but also mom-stuff.”

MorganLaFey: perfect

MorganLaFey: also, congrats again. But also mom-stuff ; )

WScranton8: ; )

She smiled to herself. This was why she liked WScranton8. He just got things when she explained them—or didn’t even fully explain them, like this one. He didn’t need the explanation. They were just in sync.

Now all she had to do was quash this really strong desire to tell him all her “mom-stuff” all at once.