“Great,” he mumbles. “From the house to your car to your classroom… that’s not exactly what I’d call being outside.”
I groan. “Why are you hassling me?”
“Because I just don’t understand why you have to spend all your time online.” He starts with the berating, this god-forsaken conversation I’ve heard so many times, I have the damn thing memorized at this point. “It’s not real, Lexington.”
“It’s real to me,” I bark, muting my mic so my friends don’t hear us fighting. “This is what I like to do, Dad. Seriously, lay off.”
“Excuse me?” he seethes, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re living under my roof, young man. Please don’t speak to me that way.”
“So I’m not allowed to have a voice just because I live here??” Frustration rises in my limbs, making me shake. “I just turned eighteen. I’m not doing drugs or partying or getting arrested… I’m a sophomore at Berkeley with a 4.0 GPA! Honestly, what more do you want??”
“I want you to actually live, Lexington!” he hisses. “In the real world, with the rest of us!”
“I’m not having this conversation again,” I mutter. “Tell Mom to get whatever she wants for dinner, and I’ll come eat with you guys. But until then, I’m gonna play this game with my friends, and I’m gonna be online because it’s what I’m good at. And if you think it’s a waste of time, well… that’s on you.”
My dad scoffs out loud, but I push my headphones back into place so I don’t have to listen to him anymore. Eventually, he stalks away, and I let out a breath of shivering anger before un-muting my mic.
My friends don’t say anything. They just continue chatting about the game, and I have to appreciate it.
These guys, and girl, have been my closest friends for years now. I know it’s a hard thing for people like my parents to understand, but it is fully possible to become genuinely close to people you’ve never actually met IRL. It’s the way of our generation, after all.
And that’s exactly what’s happened with my Fallout crew.
I don’t need them to be standing in front of me to feel a connection. Online relationships are every bit as real as in-person ones, and I don’t care what anyone says.
We go on playing for a while longer, until my mom texts me that dinner is ready. I head inside from my garage lair, and I eat sushi with my parents, remaining quiet for most of the meal. The only things they ever ask me about are school related anyway, and it is what it is.
I like school too, because I’m good at it. I’m smart, like genius-level intelligent, and I’m not saying that to be boastful or brag about myself. It’s true. I have an IQ of one-sixty-seven. I graduated prep school at fifteen and started my first year at the University of California Berkeley when I was sixteen years old.
Sharing an alma mater with the Great and Powerful Woz was always the goal, but even I hadn’t expected it to happen so early.
And because I was born and raised only fifteen minutes from the Berkeley campus, I chose to live at home and commute to save money. A decision I tend to regret more often than not because of how annoying my parents can be.
They just don’t get it, and I guess that’s fine. Maybe they don’t need to. I just wish they’d get off my back sometimes. I wish they understood that socializing has never been my forte, and I have plenty of other fortes, so it’s really not a big deal that I’m kind of socially awkward and weird.
When I’m online, I can be me. The real me; the me I was always meant to be.
To the people outside, I’m just Lexington Deon. But on the web, I’m BerkeleysLexLuthor.
Yes, I’m also a comic book nerd. Is anyone surprised?
At least I’m in my parents’ garage, not their basement. So… a little less cliché.
After dinner, I migrate right back into my cave, settling into my comfy chair to watch a friend of mine on Twitch. He’s playing a new game we’re all into, and myself plus a few friends are chatting as he does.
Cyclops180 is my friend Cyrus. I’ve known him in the online world for a while, and he’s a cool kid. A quiet loner from Cali, just like me. We bonded over a mutual love of comic books, and much to the chagrin of many others, we both have a thing for the original DC universe.
The conversation quickly turns from the game to a discussion about superheroes, as it tends to. And because we’re all nerds with a lot of opinions, it naturally morphs into a spirited argument.
“You just sound foolish,” I grumble at one of our friends, AshKetchup, who’s trying to tell me, of all people, that Lex Luthor isn’t the most powerful Superman villain. Sit down, lad. The grown-ups are talking. “Doomsday can kiss my nuts.”
Cyrus chuckles, and even though I’ve never actually seen his face outside of the occasional Insta-pic, I can imagine him grinning and shaking his head.
“And Zod?” Ash asks, almost triumphantly.
I roll my eyes at the screen. “Zod is a cog, my friend. Don’t trust what the military industrial complex wants you to believe.”
“Wait, we’re still talking about comic books… right?” Cyrus chirps, and I laugh out loud.
Before I can launch into another tirade, my phone starts ringing. Picking it up, I note the name on the screen and murmur, “I’m stepping off, homies. Stay fresh.”
Swiping the screen to accept, I immediately ask, “No FaceTime?”
Leah sighs out a giggle. “Desperate to see my face, are we?”
I recline in my chair, propping my feet up on the desk. “You know you just brighten my day up, woman.”
She laughs again, my stomach twisting a little at the sound. “Lex Luthor, the sweet talker.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night booty call?” I tease, grinning while she chuckles some more.
But it fades off, and she murmurs, “I just wanted to check on you. After… earlier.”
My own smile falls as I stare up at the ceiling. “Thanks. I’m fine.”
She’s quiet for a moment before asking, “You sure?”
“Yea,” I breathe. “Just the usual… parents not understanding me, wanting me to be someone I’m not bullshit.”
“I feel you,” she says quietly.
“Do you?”
Leah goes quiet again. And I desperately want her to open up. Give me something more personal, something deeper to work with here.
We’ve been talking online for years, and I still barely know anything about the girl. She knows everything about me, along with the rest of our little crew. None of us are shy when it comes to spilling our guts. We talk about where we’re from, our family lives, school, and work. It’s like I said, these are honest to God friendships, and Leah is a big part of that.
But she’s the mystery man of the group. The Phantom Stranger.
We’ve seen her face. We know she’s real… But that’s pretty much the extent of it.
“Don’t take it to heart, Luth.” She ignores my question, keeping the focus of conversation on me, as usual. “I’m sure your parents are proud of you.” I scoff at that, and she mumbles, “At least you know they love you. At least you… have them.”