I hope this will be good. Probably not.
It was 8 pm on a Friday night in California. Elizabeth West was spending her Friday night on cam, with her best friend, James Oliver. She didn't realize how crucial their last names were to their pasts. Elizabeth's mom didn't seem to care.
"Do you ever get tired of just talking on cam?" Elizabeth, nicknamed Liz, asked thoughtfully. She was twirling a strand of hair around the index finger on her right hand.
James pondered this for a few seconds. "Sometimes. I think it'd be nice if we saw each other in person."
Liz's eyes widened. "But you live in Colorado, and I live in California!"
He smirked. "I know."
"You know my mom wouldn't let me." she retorted.
"My mom wouldn't care. I bet she'd pay for the plane ticket."
She looked at him and said dryly, "We're eleven."
"I can't fly on a plane alone."
"Let me go ask my mom." Liz rose from her chair. On James's screen, all he saw was her chair, but it was empty. He could hear Liz's voice, though.
"Mom! Can I go to Colorado?"
"Sure, sure, whatever."
Liz reappeared about twenty seconds later. Her eyes lit up happily.
"She said yes."
James smirked again. "Let me go ask my mom if she'll pay for the plane ticket. I'll tell her it's for a friend." He disappeared.
"Mom, can you pay for the plane ticket for my friend Liz? She wants to come to Colorado."
"Sure!" his mom answered brightly. Liz could only hear it.
James returned a few seconds later. "I don't think she actually understood. She says sure to almost everything. Oh well. My dad will have to pay for it then."
"But your dad can afford it, right?" Liz asked, taking a swig out of her water bottle.
"Yeah. He's crazy rich. He doesn't like to use it though. That's why we live in a middle-class neighborhood, in a two-story house. He says he's saving up. I don't know what for."
"What are your parents like? And what are their jobs?"
"Why are you asking?"
"I just wanna know."
"Well, my mom is pretty crazy. She has bright red hair and she gets offended easily. But she's really funny. And she works as a baker. My dad has black-ish brown hair and he's pretty cool. He's famous, you've probably heard of him, haven't you?"
"Maybe. Beck Oliver, isn't it?"
She snapped her fingers. "Yeah, I've heard of him."
"What are we waiting for?"
"Huh? Waiting for what?"
"Come to Colorado!" he said eagerly. "Now!"
She rolled her eyes. "My mom wouldn't let me now. And I have to go pack. I think I'll leave tomorrow."
"Yes, really. We might be eleven, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna let adults keep me from my best friend."
"Alright. I need to go." He peered over his shoulder. "I think my mom's messing with the TV remote. She's yelling "BECK, THIS DOESN'T WORK!"
Liz nodded. "I can hear."
"Bye, Liz. I expect to see you here by Sunday."
"Don't count on it."
He grinned, and then the screen that had shown him went black, indicating he had turned his cam off. She turned hers off as well and clicked the "X" to close the computer window.
Tomorrow was going to be a long day for her.