I Thought She Was My Friend

At first, PetiteLouna was just a username.

I had come across her in an online game one Wednesday evening.

We were on the same team.

She played well.

Even very well.

At one point, I had missed something really easy, and she had written in the chat:

"Don't worry, it happens."

Then a few minutes later:

"Well played Safa."

I don't know why, but I smiled.

Maybe because the other players mostly wrote when someone made a mistake.

She had noticed when I did something good.

At the end of the game, she sent me a request to play together another time.

Her username was PetiteLouna.

In my head, I immediately imagined a girl.

A girl my age.

I didn't know what she looked like.

I didn't even know if Louna was her real first name.

But I hadn't really thought about it.

Her username said PetiteLouna.

She wrote like a girl my age.

So, for me, she was a girl my age.

It was as simple as that.

Well...

I thought.

---

In the following days, we met up several times in the game.

At first, we only talked about what was happening on the screen.

"Behind you!"

"Wait for me!"

"Well played!"

"How did you miss that?"

We laughed a lot.

Then we started talking between games.

She asked me:

"How old are you?"

I answered:

"Thirteen. And you?"

She answered almost immediately:

"Same."

That made me happy.

I was thirteen.

She was thirteen.

She liked the same games as me.

She said she liked cats.

Me too.

She found some characters in the game unbearable.

Me too.

After a few days, I felt like I knew her.

Not a lot.

But enough.

One evening, she wrote to me:

"You're really nice."

I answered:

"You too."

She sent a little heart.

I sent one too.

I hadn't found anything weird.

Why would I have found it weird?

I thought I was talking to a friend.

---

PetiteLouna remembered things.

That's maybe what brought me closest to her.

If I told her I had something important the next day, she would ask later:

"So, did it go well?"

If I told her I was annoyed about something, she would remember it several days later.

Once, she wrote to me:

"You're less funny today, are you okay?"

I looked at the message for a moment.

No one had asked me that all day.

So I started telling her a bit more things.

Not everything.

But little things.

When I was annoyed.

When something made me laugh.

When I had argued with my cousin.

She always answered.

Sometimes very quickly.

Even late.

After a while, when I turned on the game, I would check if PetiteLouna was online before even starting a game.

When she was there, I was happy.

When she wasn't there, the game seemed a bit less interesting to me.

I think that's when, in my head, she was no longer just someone I met in a game.

She had become my friend.

---

One evening, she asked me:

"Where do you live?"

I answered with the name of my country.

She wrote:

"Me too."

Then:

"What city?"

I started to write.

Then I stopped.

I don't even know why.

Mommy had already talked to me about personal information on the Internet.

So I erased it.

I answered:

"Not far from a big city."

PetiteLouna sent:

"You're mysterious."

I laughed.

She didn't insist.

So I forgot.

A few days later, she asked me:

"What middle school do you go to?"

This time, I answered:

"Why do you want to know?"

She wrote:

"Just like that. Maybe we don't live far apart."

I felt a tiny bit of discomfort.

Nothing huge.

Just something.

I changed the subject.

She followed.

Again, I told myself it was nothing.

---

Then one evening, she asked me if I had another app to chat on.

"It would be simpler than here."

I answered:

"I prefer talking here."

She sent:

"Why?"

"Just because."

She took a few seconds before answering.

"Don't you trust me?"

I remember that sentence very well.

Because it bothered me.

Not enough to scare me.

On the contrary.

It almost made me feel guilty.

We had been playing together for several weeks.

She knew lots of things about me.

She had listened to me.

She had been kind.

So I asked myself:

Why wouldn't I trust her?

I wrote:

"I do."

She answered:

"Then come on, it changes nothing."

I didn't answer right away.

Then Mommy called me to eat.

I closed the game.

During the meal, I thought about it several times.

But I didn't talk about it to anyone.

Not because I wanted to hide something.

Well, not yet.

I just thought it wasn't important.

---

The next day, PetiteLouna sent me:

"You left yesterday."

"Yes, I ate."

She answered:

"Do your parents check what you do on your phone?"

I frowned.

I wrote:

"Why?"

She answered:

"Just like that."

Then:

"If we talk elsewhere, don't tell them, otherwise they might tell you to stop talking to me."

I stayed in front of the screen.

This time, the discomfort was stronger.

I reread the message.

Don't tell them.

I didn't know why those three words bothered me so much.

PetiteLouna sent another message.