In my room that night I had much time to think about Frank Adams. He was one of the most popular users of UrChannl.com in the whole world, and the most popular one in Virginia. He had bright orange hair, obviously dyed. He often wore sunglasses and more make-up than he'd probably admit, so it was a bit hard to make out his face. People probably liked him because he was spontaneous, a little bit goofy, and generally fun to be around. At least, that's the idea you could get of him from his videos and the self-deprecating bios he wrote on his profile.
Lola was one of his few friends, the only one who had appeared on more than hundreds of videos on his profile, though never together. Lola claimed she couldn't stand Frank. That was alright with people. Usually, people who liked Frank's content weren't the biggest fans of Lola's, and vice-versa. You could ask yourself why Lola didn't open her own account then. She liked to say she wouldn't know how to manage it. Lola liked playing pretend that she was silly. My father would call her dumb and blonde. But she wasn't dumb. And she wasn't blonde. She had a very modern bob haircut, and her hair was jet black. She had a ridiculous amount of red lipstick, and as much blue mascara. Her clothing style was, for lack of a better word, quite outrageous, and she liked posting videos complaining about the men in her life. How she usually treated them with disregard, but ended up with her heart broken all the same.
The thing was, I hadn't lied during lunch.
I really was Frank Adams.
And I was also Lola.