Prank Call

Growing up, my best friend, Patsy, and I thought it was the most hysterical thing to dial random numbers and make fake phone calls. Of course, these were the days before caller ID, when everyone picked up their phone, not knowing who'd be on the other end.

We'd call neighbors, family members, or even made-up phone numbers and ask, "Is your refrigerator running? Well, you better go catch it!" We'd roll on the floor, hugging our stomachs, drying the tears streaming down our cheeks.

One day, I decided that I could make calls even if Patsy weren't around. I dialed a made-up number, and a woman answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi. I'm Vero." For some reason, I couldn't carry out the joke without my partner-in-crime.

"Who? What can I help you with, mija?"

"Oh, nothing. I just came home from school. I go to Vista Hills. I'm in third grade."

"Where's your mom, honey?"

"She's at work. Do you have any kids?"

The woman on the other end kindly carried on a conversation with me, unsure about what exactly was happening. After a few minutes, I told her I had to go, and we hung up.

To me, there was nothing strange about what happened. I called someone, we chatted, and that was that. So the next day, and every day for a week after that, I called the same number after school and had a lovely little chat with the woman on the other end of the line.

The following week, as I got home from school, I went into the bedroom to make my call. This time, my mom, dad and telephone friend were in the room waiting for me.

"Why have you been calling this woman every day for a week?" asked my mom furiously. "What's wrong with you?" She pulled me in closer. "What have you been telling her?"

I was immediately embarrassed and ashamed. I stared at my feet.

"What's going on, mija? Are you OK? Do you need someone to talk to?" asked the friendly telephone lady.

"No."

My dad, as it were, stood quietly and didn't say a word. I couldn't tell if he was uncomfortable with asking me personal questions or if he was embarrassed by what I'd done. Whatever it was, it was awful.

I think the questions went on for several minutes, and finally, the friendly telephone lady excused herself and my mom walked her out. Days later, my mother approached me again, wanting to know why I'd made those calls. I desperately wished there was something deep and meaningful that I could give as an explanation for my behavior, but the truth was, I just wanted to make a crank call. For the next few weeks, I'd be mad at Patsy for not being there to make the call with me.