The Oracle of Dating

by Allison van Diepen

  Jared puts his hand on mine, charcoal smearing my hand. A frisson of warmth goes through me, and I look up at him. But he’s not looking at me, he’s nudging his chin toward the doorway.

  Viv is waving to get my attention, a closed-fisted, tissue-clutching wave. I ask Gerstad for the bathroom pass.

  In the hall, Viv’s eyes are shiny with tears. “Max left a note in my locker. He wants to keep dating in secret. But I can’t, Kayla. I can’t!”

  I don’t know what to say. I want to cry, too.

  We go sit in the courtyard behind the school. It’s the unofficial smoking area, and the ground is covered with cigarette butts. The sun hasn’t come out, leaving the sky a dull, gloomy gray. Just the way Viv and I feel. Chilly October weather has caused the leaves to shrivel up and fall in crinkled, colorless masses.

  “I’m cutting class, Kayla. Can you believe that? I’ve never cut a class in my life. I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”

  “Give yourself a break. You have a lot to deal with right now. Of course you should cut class.”

  Great, I’m giving her more destructive advice. I might as well suggest she kill the pain with alcohol and drugs.

  “I have something to tell you.” I hesitate. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I’m just adding to her troubles by dumping this on her. Maybe—

  “Well, what is it?”

  “I’m the Oracle of Dating.”

  “It’s you?”

  I nod, bracing myself for an explosion.

  “That’s cool!”

  “Huh?” Her heartbreak must have caused temporary insanity. I guess she’s not getting the implication of what I just told her. “Do you know what this means?”

  “Uh, no, what does it mean?”

  “It’s my fault this happened. I gave you horrible advice. I’m so sorry. I felt bad giving you advice in the first place without you knowing it was me. I called you afterward to come clean, but you were on the phone with Max. And once you guys starting dating, I figured you didn’t need to know.”

  “I haven’t been blaming the Oracle for my situation. I knew the Oracle was just telling me what I wanted to hear.”

  “The Oracle—I mean, I don’t usually tell people what they want to hear. I try to give good advice. But I wanted to see you and Max together so much that my personal feelings got in the way. I was totally culturally insensitive and unprofessional. I don’t feel I deserve to be the Oracle. I’m taking the Web site down after school today.”

  “That’s silly. Your Web site is awesome. I knew it wasn’t some old guy running it! The advice always felt real. Why didn’t you tell all of us in the first place?”

  I lower my head. I have a dozen possible answers to that one. “I don’t know. I guess I was afraid you’d all laugh at the idea that I could be giving dating advice when I haven’t dated much myself.”

  “I wouldn’t have laughed. You’re smart, Kayla. You’re a thinker.”

  “Not when I was giving you advice, apparently. You have every right to be mad at me. I’m mad at myself.”

  “I’m not mad at you. I think it’s cool that you’re the Oracle. I just wish I’d reacted differently to this situation. I’ve let everyone down and I don’t know if my parents will ever trust me again.”

  “They will. I’m sure they will.”

  I’m doing it again. I’m telling her what I think she wants to hear.

  But the look on her face says she’s not buying it this time. “I hope they will. Someday.”

  WHEN I GET HOME from school, I go right to my computer. The screen fills with the pink and blue bubbles of the oracleofdating.com. Looking at the results of the latest poll, it turns out that seventy-four percent of respondents said they’d prefer to be stranded on a desert island with all three Jonas brothers instead of just one. Hmm. Does that mean most girls feel that the rules of monogamy don’t apply when you’re dealing with brothers? That’s a blog topic in itself.

  I take a deep breath. There won’t be any more blogs, polls or anything else. By giving Viv such terrible advice, I broke the cardinal rule of people in the helping professions: do no harm. I don’t want to mess up anyone else’s life like I did Viv’s. Just because she’s kind enough not to blame me doesn’t change the truth: the Oracle of Dating failed.

  With a simple click, I take the Web site off-line. And now, when anyone goes to oracleofdating.com, they will see a generic yahoo business page.

  I feel an emptiness in my chest, as if with that one click, I took away my life’s purpose.

  ten

  OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, something becomes painfully clear: I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m not being the Oracle. Sure, I have homework, the Hellhole, reading Ellen’s steamy historical romance novels and talking on the phone with friends to keep me busy. But I don’t feel like myself. I feel lost.

  Every day at school I see the sadness in Viv’s eyes and my heart breaks for her. Her parents are grounding her for six weeks, which is both cruel and unusual, since I’ve never heard of anyone being grounded for more than a month. That means she won’t be able to emerge again until late November, and that feels like an eternity away. But worse than the grounding is the tension between her and her parents, which I know is tearing her up inside.

  If she were mad at me, maybe I’d have a chance at paying the penance and eventually getting over my guilt. But she’s as sweet to me as ever and doesn’t want me to shoulder any of the blame. Somehow that makes me feel worse. She refuses to punish me, so I feel I should punish myself.

  But I probably don’t need to punish myself, since the universe is doing a good job of it already. Every day, Brooke and Jared appear to be getting closer, cuddlier, to the point that I hardly see one without the other. By Thursday morning it’s clear that Jared and Brooke are together. She’s at his locker, cooing over him, ruffling his hair, practically groping him. Jared plays it cool, but I’m sure he’s eating up all the attention. And why shouldn’t he? The hottest girl in school is all over him, and his reputation has turned from nottie to hottie overnight.

  With his newfound fame, I half expect him to ignore my existence, but Jared isn’t like that. I wish he were, because then I could hate him. But the fact is, Jared hasn’t let his fame go to his head, and I can’t hate him at all.

  I just feel…longing. It’s hard to get over a crush when I have to see him every day and smell his cologne. And seeing him and Brooke together drives a stake through my heart.

  Not to be overly dramatic, but you know what I mean.

  FRIDAY NIGHT I ELECT to stay home. I’m tired and depressed and want to be alone. I spend the evening sitting on my bed reading. I’ve put the hot historical romance novel on hold in favor of the tragic vampire romance Viv insisted I read. I understand why she loves it. It reminds her of her situation with Max. The romance that can’t be.

  This book is making me downright weepy. As I read, I picture Jared as the brooding vampire. He looks just the way he does now, with those dreamy blue eyes and almost-black hair, but he’s pale, with long incisors and a black cape. And when he looks at me, I feel his raging passion.

  I can’t help going to the computer and writing:

  Lovesickness: You Want Who You Can’t Have

  Think of the best romance novel you’ve ever read, or your favorite romantic TV show or movie. Why are these stories so compelling that you could cry just thinking about them?

  It’s because these romances are impossible.

  These days it seems many of these love stories are supernatural. Your feisty heroine has fallen for a vampire who can never grow old with her or fit into her world. Your lovesick hero falls for a fairy who can never be his. Your heroine falls for a ghost who lives across the chasm of time, across a void she can’t cross.

  In other cases, the conflicts separating the lovers are all too human. Like when lovers come from different cultures or religions, and their families won’t let them be together. Or like two people falling in love when their cou
ntries are at war.

  I know lovesickness. I know how painful it can be. Even if your loved one is not a vampire, even if he’s that boy in class—if you can’t have him, it hurts. It aches.

  Some of the worst lovesickness is from love that isn’t returned. Maybe he never really noticed you. Maybe he chose someone else over you—say, a popular blonde with large breasts. If you dwell on this, if you listen to sappy ballads about impossible love, you will hurt even more.

  Lovesickness, that painful longing, has no real cure. In some cases, time and distance may help you move on. But the memories remain. Memories of a love that was never realized—or a what-if that will always haunt you.

  It’s not a bad article. It’s definitely from the heart. But with the Web site down, I can’t post it. So I delete it, and feel a sense of loss all over again.

  If I’d gotten into the bar that night, would Jared have gravitated toward me instead of Brooke? If I’d worked up the courage to ask him out a few weeks ago, would we have had a chance?

  The truth is, Jared is a what-if that will always haunt me.

  AROUND TEN THAT NIGHT, I go to the kitchen in search of a snack. Erland is in the living room reading, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose. Mom isn’t around. She has a Friday-night Bible study, which to me is just wrong.

  “How are you feeling?” Erland’s voice startles me as I’m pouring soy milk into my cereal. I’m used to him being quiet most of the time, a bookish ghost in my peripheral vision.

  “I’m fine, why?”

  “Usually you see your friends on Friday evenings.”

  “There wasn’t much going on.”

  He’s looking at me over his reading glasses. “You have not seemed yourself all week.”

  I’m surprised he noticed. But it’s not like I can tell him how I screwed up as the Oracle, since he didn’t even know I was the Oracle. And I don’t feel like telling him that I’m upset because of a guy. I doubt the concept would register in his theological brain.

  “It’s been a stressful week.”

  A bushy brow goes up, as if he doesn’t believe me. Does he really expect me to tell him the truth? We hardly ever talk.

  “Saturn is square Jupiter,” he says. “That might explain whatever events have troubled you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He beckons me over. I leave my cereal on the counter and go sit beside him on the couch. He shows me the book he’s reading, which is full of numbers and symbols. “This is an ephemeris. It gives the planetary positions on any given date.”

  “You’re into astrology?” I don’t get it. Erland doesn’t have a New Age bone in his body.

  “It is an ancient science.”

  “But is it cool with, you know, the people at the seminary?”

  “They do not know, and I hope you will not say anything. I am not ashamed of my interest, but some of my colleagues are not open-minded when it comes to the ancient sciences.”

  Whoa. The Swede is a rebel. “I won’t tell. Does Mom know?”

  “Yes. I warned her that there is a strongly negative aspect this week—Saturn square Jupiter. So I wouldn’t be surprised if things did not go smoothly at the Bible study.”

  “So if I’ve been having problems this week, it could be because of this aspect?”

  “The causal nature of it is difficult to identify, but yes, this would be a time when conflicts arise. It would be a poor time to make financial investments, for instance.”

  “At least I don’t have to worry about that. I have no money to invest, anyway. Does it relate to personal stuff, too?”

  “Oh, yes. At a time like this, interpersonal relationships are often strained. It wouldn’t be a time to resolve a conflict with a partner, or ask a boss for a raise. Better to wait until the aspect passes in a few days.”

  This is seriously cool. If I’d known Erland was an astrologer, I could’ve given love horoscopes. Too late for that now. “You’re right about this week. Things have been pretty screwed up. It felt like a lot of bad things happened at once, you know?”

  “That makes sense. However, negative aspects are necessary in order for positive ones to occur. There must be balance in space as well as on earth.”

  I try to think of how Viv’s situation could turn positive. Or how I could be happy again without being the Oracle. Or how I could ever stand seeing Jared and Brooke together. But I can’t.

  “Things will resolve themselves one way or another, Kayla. All things pass, good and bad. All events have lessons.”

  “Yeah, but we can’t take back the mistakes we make.”

  “If you made a mistake, you will have learned from it. And perhaps it will set in motion other processes which will ultimately lead to karmic resolution.”

  Now I’m starting to get confused, because I thought Buddhists talked about karma, not Swedish Christian theologians. Still, I have to admit, the Swede is cooler than I thought.

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Amy calls to tell me we’re going to a keg party tonight. I don’t argue. I need to get out. If I stay home wallowing another night, I’ll just get more depressed. I only wish Viv had the option of going out, too.

  “Whose party is it?” I ask.

  “Dave from the soccer team. He told Chad to bring whoever he wants.”

  Which is as good as an invitation. Why not? I have nothing else to do.

  I try to cheer myself up by primping a little, putting on cute clothes and some makeup, but I don’t have the heart to brave the flatiron again. I’ll stick to my drunken wave.

  The party is jumping when we get there, and Sharese and I dance our way inside. Thank God the sound system is playing hip-hop, because I really don’t feel like stoner acid jazz. The stoners are around somewhere, though. I can smell them.

  We fill plastic cups with beer from the keg and head into the living room. I scan the room for rebound possibilities, even though I realize it’s technically impossible to rebound from a relationship that never took place. I wonder if there’s such a thing as a crush rebound. I’m thinking like the Oracle again. I’ve got to stop that.

  And then I spot Jared and Brooke.

  It didn’t even occur to me that they’d be here. How do I take my mind off Jared when he’s a few feet away?

  “I wish I could run into Mike P. at a party,” Sharese says. “Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

  “Yeah. But there are a lot of other guys here. You shouldn’t count them out.”

  I glance over at Jared. He catches the look and nods, so I nod back and give a polite smile. Brooke sees this, and I can see she’s asking, How do you know her? He says something back, and suddenly she’s waving me over.

  I don’t exactly like being beckoned, but I have no excuse not to go over there.

  I turn to Sharese. “Come with me?”

  She shrugs. “Sure.”

  “Kayla!” To my surprise, Brooke hugs me like she hugs her popular friends. How weird. If she’s trying to act like we’re friends to impress Jared, she really shouldn’t bother. I doubt he cares.

  “You guys know Sharese?” I ask.

  Jared says, “Hey,” and Brooke says, “Of course I know Sharese! We’re in math together.”

  “English,” Sharese says behind a tight smile.

  Brooke shrugs, flipping her blond hair. “Jared and I were just talking about what an awesome job you did with that speed dating night, Kayla. It’ll have to be a tradition from now on.” She gives Jared goo-goo eyes. “It’s so cool that we met that way.”

  Jared’s eyes flicker left-right-floor. He knows that I know he didn’t check her off.

  Brooke goes on, “I’m sorry you didn’t get to see The Invisible play last week. Jared and the guys were amazing. I can’t believe the bouncer treated you that way—talk about humiliating! I don’t see why everyone found it so funny.”

  Jared’s eyes zero in on me. “What happened? I didn’t know you came to the club.”

  I avoid looking at him. “I came with my friends. Tw
o of us got in. I got carded and…the bouncer wasn’t impressed with my ID.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You can’t blame her,” Brooke says. “It was brutal. What is it the bouncer said, Kayla? That you look like a freshman? He freaked out on her, threatened to call the police.”

  She’s got this little smirk on her face like she finds this hilarious. I realize this is why she called me over in the first place. To humiliate me.

  I should never have gone out tonight. Erland is totally right about Saturn square Jupiter!

  Sharese stiffens beside me. “Yeah, well, we had other options that night. I’m glad to see that you and Jared got together, especially after he rejected you at speed dating. A lot of people wouldn’t be able to look past that.”

  Brooke’s eyes get so big, her eyelids disappear. No, you didn’t.

  Sharese smiles. Yes, I did. She grabs my arm. “Anyway, we’d better get going. Nice meeting you, Jared.”

  She ushers me into the kitchen and we burst into laughter. Amy and Chad come up, wanting to know what’s so funny.

  I explain what happened. “Brooke’s a bitch,” Chad says. “Everyone knows that.”

  To my surprise, Amy grins. “If she did that, it means one thing—she feels threatened by you.” She looks me up and down. “Maybe she saw Jared noticing you. You do look gorgeous tonight.”

  “For sure,” Sharese agrees.

  “Thanks, guys.” I smile, but I’m still a little traumatized. Jared now knows that I made the effort to show up last Friday night and that I brought my friends.

  He’s probably having a good laugh with Brooke over the whole thing.

  THE MORE I THINK ABOUT IT, the more I lose all respect for Jared. Why would he go out with Brooke when he knows she’s a fake? His comment on the speed dating card said it all. Doesn’t he have any standards?

  Or is he, like so many teenage guys, a slave to his hormones?