17 Digits

I've talked to my friend about this strange number that called me on November 12th, almost at 1 in the afternoon, and asked if he knew what to make out of it. He said it was probably from another country, though I didn't understand how they got my number, or why they would even call someone who lived in California of the United States. He told me they probably got the wrong number, then proceeded to tell me about how he met a foreign guy he helped at his job in the mall.

I've tried looking the number up on Google, and even tried looking up some area codes from different countries. I couldn't find anything. Maybe I wasn't looking at the right sites, or maybe I wasn't typing in the right things.

Even if it had been a convenient time, I'm not sure if I would have answered. November 12th, at 12:51 pm. I have the number still in my phone. The person called me almost ten minutes into fifth period, where I sat at a computer working on my Multimedia project. My teacher, Mr. G, was usually cool about us playing on our phones, as long as we weren't loud and were doing our work. I had my phone on vibrate, so it didn't cause too much noise, just that irritating buzzing sound. Normally, I would have just let it ring until it went to voice mail, but after becoming ill with something the doctors don't even know, I thought it might have been my mother calling me to see if I was okay. She didn't exactly know my schedule, and her calling to check up on me didn't seem too odd.

Upon looking at my phone, the number that was calling me was very long. It was longer than your usual 7 or 10 digit number, either being the wrong number or a random person trying to sell you something. Of course, I wasn't going to answer it during class. I'm not the kind of student to answer their phones during class (Marcos). Hell, even if I wasn't in class, I might have not have answered it anyways. I don't always answer the phone when a random number calls me.

I told my mom of it, only to be told that it was probably nothing. I've been called by a random number before on my old phone, the only response to my "hello" being a piano note. I remember the sound to this day. A monotone note of 'doe' upon the eight lyrics that most musicians used to warm up their instruments, whether it be a woodwind or a brass. I played the clarinet and tenor saxophone, so I couldn't tell you exactly what note it was on a piano. To hell with that instrument. I will admit, it makes beautiful music when played correctly, but after that phone call, I've always had this small and silly hatred for the piano, just because I spent the day wondering what in God's name that phone call was all about. Stupid, I know, but I can't help it. I just wish I remember that number. Getting a new phone, all old phone numbers vanished, excluding my contacts.

I have another friend I can ask. Maybe he can tell me what country it's from, or even tell me who was trying to contact me, whether it be another citizen, or a salesman. I'm probably giving this too much thought, but I can't help it. I'm one to have gotten phone calls to only hear static, silence, and the automatic "click" of the person hanging up.

So, here I sit, a muted animated move on the television, as I listen to "Top 15 Scariest REAL Cults" on YouTube. Maybe one day I'll gather up the courage and will to call the number back, just to see who it was. Or, maybe they'll call back when I'm not in class, and I'll be able to answer the phone and talk to them.