Isla was dreaming of being stripped naked in front of the school and made to run from room to room to look for clothing that she could never find. That is why for once her alarm was actually welcome as it crashed morning onto her. The phone played Lewis Capaldi singing “Somebody to heal / Somebody to have / Just to know how it feels” as Isla tried to get her brown hair out of her face and look at the phone enough to turn it off.

Slowly her brain processed the fact that an alarm meant it was a school day. It had been a great weekend, her birthday had been Saturday, she’d gotten new headphones, clothes, even a big cosmetic pack from her favorite makeup Youtuber. Her BFFs Steph and Susan had spent Saturday night and they’d stayed up all night watching horror movies and eating junk food. She poked at her tummy. Yeah, she would need to skip a few meals this week but it had been totally worth it.

She lifted the phone up so she could see it better. As a high school sophomore catching up on what happened overnight was crucial to maintaining her place in the school’s hierarchy. She didn’t belong to a specific clique but was cute, smart, and average enough to belong on the outskirts of several and float between them. She only had one text message, from a number she didn’t recognize.

The message read, ‘CALL ME.’ She furrowed her brow at the message but her inspection was interrupted by an insistent knock.

She barked at the door. “I’m up! Geez!” The unseen knocker left.

Looking back to her screen she thought, “I don’t have a contact by that name.” She looked in the contacts but it wasn’t there. So, it wasn’t a contact, it was a phone number? That wasn’t possible. It was funky, made up not of numbers but emoji. It was three symbols, the monkey covering its ears, a single open eye, and a purple box like those used for religious symbols but Isla had never seen this one, it looked like a diamond with two triangles coming in from the sides. She tried looking it up but it wasn’t in the emoji picker. This was a mystery for after coffee Isla decided, or maybe not at all. She was already, out of habit, going to Instagram and Sandy Pinkerton had posted a picture of her boyfriend with the text ‘REASONS TO BECOME A LESBO, BOYS LIKE THIS” ... holy crap ... Within moments the text was forgotten as Isla caught up on the drama she was late arriving to.

After direct messages were sent and drama investigated Isla got up and shuffled out of pajamas to dress for school. A second knock informed her that it wasn’t quite quick enough for her mom. Isla squeezed into pink jeans and a cream blouse, brushing out her long hair, and then rushing downstairs for coffee and some toast.

Isla barely heard her mom say “Good morning” as she added cream to her coffee. When Isla didn’t reply her mom added “Good morning mom, how are you? I’m great dear. I love you. I love you too mom.”

Isla croaked out a “What?”

“Sheesh, nothing. I’ll see you after school. It’s inventory night so if I’m late just order pizza.”

“Will do, love you, mom.”

“Love you.” Isla rushed out. She only lived six blocks from the high school. They were large suburban blocks but she knew exactly how long it would take her to get there. She was two blocks away from school when her phone beeped, overriding the music in her earbuds. Looking down was the message, ‘CALL ME’ with the same emoji. So weird. She hit reply, typed in ‘who is this?’ and kept walking. Within seconds a message popped up ‘invalid recipient address.’ Isla rolled her eyes and kept going. With a block to go the concentration of students walking in their suburban neighborhood was getting thicker. Her phone beeped again. Now it was a picture message, the same cryptic emoji address, the same text, ‘CALL ME’ but now a picture of her from behind. She looked behind her but there were dozens of kids, several with phones in their hands.

Oh well, she was nearly at school. She turned her phone off and with a few more furtive glances made her way into the school. Inside the school grounds, she ran into her cadre.

“Steph! Susan!” She squealed. The blonde twin sisters turned and waved back. “Isla!” Isla jogged forward and joined them. They had shoulder-length blonde hair and as identical twins took pleasure in dressing alike, today in a long blue skirts with white dress shirts.

Isla started straight in. “Did you see the new teaser video?”

“Who?” Steph asked.

“BTS!” Isla said it meant to clearly indicate there was no excuse for the twins not knowing what she was talking about.

“Huddle up!” Susan declared.

Suddenly they formed a tight circle the hallway hiding Susan taking her phone out. Students could have their phones in school but they had to be turned off. Susan’s phone turned on and within seconds she was zigzagging her finger in a pattern to logon. Before she could click the Youtube app a message popped up with the mystery sender address Isla had seen that morning.

“You too?” Isla asked?

Stephanie looked at their friend? “You got one? We both had the creepy message this morning.”

“Yeah, did you get the photo too?”

“Photo?” That was Susan.

“Open it up.” Isla pointed at the phone. Unlike her, the sisters were driven to school by their mom each day. They opened it up and inside was a photo of them getting out of their car. In the photo, Stephanie was waiting, standing by the door, as Susan had a hand on the open car door and swung her legs out.

“Well, that’s some creepy shit,” Stephanie said.

Isla looked around. “Steph, check your’s.” She did. The same photo awaited her.

Steph, “Woah. Stranger danger meter just hit the red zone.”

“If it’s a stranger,” replied her sister.

“Not less creepy,” Stephanie responded her hand waving it aside.

Isla, “Text it back.”

Both did and got the same invalid number message. From the corner of her eye, Stephanie noticed a figure. She whispered harshly, “Mr. Felding!” The phones were powered off and put away in one clean motion as the girls began moving towards their homerooms. Before they left they gave meaningful glances. They would regroup at lunch.

A few hours later Isla had theoretically learned about quadratic equations, the Cold War, and tectonic plates. In reality, she just thought about the phone. When the lunch period arrived Stephanie and Isla waited outside the cafeteria until Susan got there. They skipped the line, used the vending machines to get crackers and diet sodas, and then took a position outside the science building away from the stoners but where they had a little privacy.

“So...” Isla started off, “I asked Priya in PE. A bunch of girls were standing around in the locker room so I showed them. Zero, nada, but they said we should tell someone.”

“Definitely.” Stephanie nodded. “I asked a few peeps too.”

Isla waited a moment as they sipped their sodas. “Why us?”

Stephanie, “Don’t know but it’s creepy as heck.”

“We hang a lot, not so weird that someone creeping on one of us would creep on the others,” offered Susan.

“This stalking shit isn’t cool. It had to be someone hanging around the front though ‘cause you two got here before me,” said Isla.

Stephanie, “Wait? How would that work? They’d have to take our pic and then, what, walk to where you were? You weren’t even here yet, right?”

Isla, “Yeah. Wait, when did you get your message?”

“Uh...” Stephanie hurriedly looked around ... and slipped her hand into her jacket to turn the phone on. Susan did the same. By unspoken understanding, it was a quick check with the phone held close to the body while the other two girls played lookout.

“7:43 AM,” said Susan.

“Same,” came the reply from Isla. “So, it’s like two of them?”

“Well-coordinated dual stalking,” said Susan.

“Should we call them?” That was Stephanie.

Susan, “No. that’s what these creepazoids want, us dancing to their tune.” The other two nodded in solidarity. The bravado did not keep Isla from spending the rest of the day looking around though. There were plenty of boys who might a bit creepy and a few girls but who among them walked to school? She knew a few of them but didn’t really know them like what kind of person they were and they all had a phone she figured. As she walked home Isla kept an extra eye on everyone around her, trying to remember who was near her.

As she approached the house, she was glad to see her Mom’s car in the driveway. Isla came into the living room where her mom had a bottle of wine open.

“Yay!” Isla started, “I actually have a mom and aren’t abandoned by the responsible adults in my life like an unwanted runt of the litter.”

Her mom, Joan, looked up from her own phone and smiled warmly. “You’re not from a litter and given how many new bras I’ve bought you you’re hardly a runt. But I’m glad you’re glad I didn’t have to stay late.”

Isla put her books and chrome book on the coffee table. “Yeah, it’s just been a messed up day.”

Joan got serious, “What’s going on?”

“Well,” Her phone dinged. It was the message again, ‘CALL ME,’ with a picture. In it, there was a face blurred and out of focus beyond recognition while she was clearly walking in the background looking behind herself furtively as someone used their back camera. “DAMN IT!”

Her mom, “Kiddo?”

“I’m getting these messages, someone keeps taking my picture and sending them to me with this creepy message of ‘call me.’”

“Ah, my little girl is all grown up, her own stalker!”

Isla glared, “Not funny mom.”

Joan shrugged, “It’s probably harmless. Have you texted them back and told you to leave you alone?”

“I can’t.”

Her mom raised an eyebrow, “Can’t as in you’re freaked out? You need to be firm with these kinds of people.”

“No, I’d tell them to leave me alone but, like, those emoji aren’t a real number so it errors.”

Joan held out her hand. “Let me see.” In response, Isla gave her mom the phone and plopped unceremoniously on the couch. Her mom’s face went from focused to confused to frustrated. “I’d assumed that was some weird contact name you made. It really does think that’s the number. Huh. One sec,” she said as she got up and walked out.

Isla’s mother came back in a few minutes with a laptop. Logging into the phone provider’s website she worked for a minute before declaring, “These aren’t in the logs.”

“What logs?”

“I can access a log of all your text messages.”