by Robin Caroll
The waiter came and took away their empty plates and refilled her tea. Mom ordered a cup of coffee.
Once the waiter left, Sam replied. “I understand why this is important to you, Mom.” She picked at the crisp, white linen tablecloth.
“But?”
“I don’t know.” How could she tell her mom about the battle raging inside her head and heart when she could barely understand it herself?
“I know six months sounds like a long time, my sweet girl, but in a lifetime, that’s a very short time.”
It wasn’t just the six months. “Mom, what if something happened to you over there? You could easily get seriously hurt. Or worse.”
“Oh, Sam . . . I know it’s scary to think about, but we can’t live our lives led by fear. Jesus never wanted that for us.” She smiled. “I know you’d miss me, and I’d certainly miss you and Dad. A lot. A decision hasn’t been made yet. I just wanted you to hear about the offer from me so you can be praying too, like Dad and I are.”
The waiter showed up with the coffee and a Grand Marnier chocolate soufflé. He cut open the steaming chocolate and poured the heavy whipping cream inside. Even though she was full from the amazing dinner, Sam’s mouth watered.
There was something so right about a chocolate soufflé with real heavy cream.
As if she could read her mind and understood Sam needed some time, Mom changed the subject. “So, tell me the story behind the story on your bullying series. Who’s being bullied that you know?”
CHAPTER NINE
I just don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,” Sam told Makayla as she lay back on her bed, her iPhone stuck to her ear. “I want her to go because I get how important it is, but I don’t want her to go because I’ll miss her, and I’m worried something will happen to her. I need my mom.” Sam groaned and rolled onto her side. “Does that make me selfish?”
Chewy licked her face. Sam laughed and pushed her away, so Chewy curled up on her dog bed and stared at Sam with her soulful black eyes.
“I don’t think it makes you selfish. I think it shows you’re human,” Makayla reassured her. “And that you love your mom and don’t want to be away from her or want anything to happen to her.”
“I guess.” Sam rolled onto her belly. “I know Dad’s more worried about her than anything, and that’s why he doesn’t want her to go.”
“Is she going?”
“She and Dad are praying about it together. She asked me to pray too.” Putting aside her own fears about her mom and her selfishness for wanting her to stay, Sam thought it was wrong that Mom would dismiss Dad’s objections and move forward anyway. It didn’t sound like something a wife should do.
Weren’t couples supposed to compromise or at least get to a point where they accepted something? Sure, Mom said they were praying about it, but it seemed she’d already made up her mind.
“Bet it’s not a lot of fun at your house at the moment.”
“Not at all.” Despite Mom and Dad loving one another and Mom reassuring Sam they weren’t going to get a divorce, Sam could sense the tension between her parents.
That night she’d used homework as an excuse to go to her room, very uncommon for the usual first day after Mom got back from a trip. They’d usually have dinner together and then play a board game or just sit around and talk as a family.
Not tonight.
Tonight had been stilted conversation in the living room with the television on. Mom and Dad rarely watched TV when they were home together, unless it was the occasional movie.
“Hey, what did Mrs. Creegle decide about the anti-bullying campaigns?”
“I forgot to check. Hang on.” Sam grabbed her MacBook and opened her email. With everything else, she’d completely forgotten to check.
Four emails loaded. The first one was junk. The second was from Mrs. Creegle. Sam began reading then said to Makayla, “She says she thinks we ought to have each grade come up with a slogan and anti-bullying campaign. We can make posters, flyers . . . all kinds of stuff. It will be a contest. Whichever grade comes up with the best slogan will get free tickets to the homecoming football game. Whichever grade does the best with their campaign will get a special page in the yearbook.”
“That’s pretty cool. We have a lot of creative people in the seventh grade.”
Sam continued to read. “Mrs. Creegle says she’ll get the information on the morning announcements and wants to make sure I put it in the paper’s blog.”
“Sounds like a great idea.”
“Yeah.” Sam yawned and closed Mrs. Creegle’s email.
“Did you see some of the homecoming posters already up?”
“I did. I saw one for Bella.” Sam checked her third email. It was from Tam, reminding her to let him know what Mrs. Creegle said. She quickly replied by copying and pasting.
“Frannie’s is really pretty and professional looking. I think her mom works at one of those printing places, so her poster is really good. Too bad she’s in eighth grade, or we could ask her to help with the seventh grade campaign.”
“True that.” Sam noticed the fourth email was from Nikki. She clicked and opened it, gasping out loud as she read.
“What?”
“I just got an email from Nikki. Her bully emailed her.”
“What’d the email say?”
“Hang on, she forwarded it.” Sam scrolled down the page. “Oh. My.”
“What?”
“Listen to this: You are so fat. Ugly. You were only nominated to homecoming court as a joke. Everybody knows that but you. Now you are the joke.” Sam’s gut twisted.
“That’s horrible. What did Nikki say?”
Sam read aloud, “Got this and thought you might like to see it. Anybody could have emailed it since my address is in the student directory. Don’t call. Dad’s on his way over to look at the email with Mom.” Sam hit the button to print a copy.
“You said she forwarded you the email?”
“Yeah. I’m going to send an email to the address that sent it.” Sam clicked on the hyperlink and typed ‘who is this?’ before she hit SEND.
Whoosh!
“It’s sent.”
“Poor Nikki,” Makayla said. “This is beyond cruel.”
“I know, right?” Sam reread Nikki’s personal words, trying to read through the lines to see if she could gauge how the bully’s words had affected her. She couldn’t.
Meep!
Sam glanced at her email. “Rats! My reply to the bully just bounced.”
“Read through the message and tell me the reason.”
Sam scrolled until she found it. “This gmail user does not exist.”
“The email address was bogus.”
“Somebody’s clever,” Sam said.
“What’s the email address?” Makayla asked.
“It’s,” Sam right clicked to read the email, “truthtelr-at-gmail-dot-com.”
“Hang on, give me a second.” The clacking of Makayla’s keyboard sounded over the phone. Sam was good enough on a computer, but Makayla was a true computer genius. Although she’d never tried her hand at “hacking,” there wasn’t much Makayla couldn’t uncover on a computer. It was just the way her mind worked.
While she waited, Sam folded the printout of the email and stuck it into the interior pocket of her backpack, then stretched, letting her feet rub against Chewy’s back. Mom needed to take the dog to the groomer’s for her final summer cut. Sam dug her toes into Chewy’s thick fur. If Mom took her job, she wouldn’t be here to take Chewy to the groomers or the vet. Or Sam to the doctor and dentist. Or come to any of Sam’s basketball games.
“Just what I thought,” Makayla’s voice jerked Sam out of her misery.
“What?”
“Somebody created that account, sent Nikki the email, then went right back in and deleted the account they’d made.”
“Really? You could tell that?”
Makayla chuckled. “You could, too, if you’d just take a few minutes to
think about what you need to look for and where.”
“I think I’d rather just ask you.”
“Well, in this case, the person did the deleting almost immediately — less than three minutes after creating the account. This person wanted to be sure they didn’t leave a digital trail back to them.”
“That’s insane.”
“I know.”
“So, there’s no way for you to trace who opened that truthtelr account?” Another dead-end.
“If I had some better resources, I could find out. But don’t give up yet. Forward me that email, please. I want to try and track the IP address.”
Sam nodded, even though Makayla couldn’t see her over the phone, and forwarded the forwarded email from Nikki. “Okay, it’s sent.”
“Okay. Give me a little time to play around and see what I can come up with.”
“You really think you can find out who sent the email to Nikki?”
“Maybe not who, exactly, but I’m hoping I can figure out where they sent it from.”
“Oh, Mac, that would be awesome. You’re such a genius.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m a ninja genius, remember?” She laughed. “I probably won’t be able to call you later. Mom’s on a tear again.”
Sam grinned against the phone. “On you about studying again?”
“It’s not like I don’t already have a perfect 4.0 from last year and so far this first nine weeks. By the way she acts, you’d think I was in danger of failing.”
Sam laughed. “At least she isn’t talking about home schooling you again.”
“Shh. Don’t give her any ideas.” Makayla chuckled. “Anyway, I’ll see what I can do, and we’ll talk in the morning. Maybe my bus will be early tomorrow.”
“I can always ask Dad to pick you up, and you can ride with us.” That would work. They could talk without anybody listening in.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sam.”
“Why not?”
“Well, your mom dumped a lot on you tonight. You said the three of you didn’t discuss your mom’s leaving tonight. I imagine your dad will want to talk to you about it when he drives you to school tomorrow.”
“I hope not. I don’t know what to say.”
“Sleep on it. See how you feel about everything in the morning. I’ll be praying for all of you.”
Sam shut her laptop and plopped back on the bed. She stared at the framed picture she kept on her desk — the one of her and Mom, Dad, and Chewy at Christmas last year. They were all smiling, even the German hunt terrier. The picture of the perfectly happy family. That could all be destroyed, as much as Sam’s mom didn’t want to consider it.
“Maybe I can get Mom to drive me to school in the morning,” Makayla said.
“Yeah.” Sam turned away from the photo.
“I’ve gotta run. Mom will be in here in a little bit to check on my progress in Science. See you tomorrow. Hang tough, bestie.”
Sam smiled. “Thanks, Mac. See you tomorrow.”
Chewy jumped up on the bed and gave a little whine. Sam rubbed the dog’s head, just between the ears like she liked it and stood. “Come on, I’ll go in the backyard with you.”
The dog pounced off the bed and followed Sam to the kitchen door. It was the funniest thing, Chewy being afraid of the dark. She hated to go outside at night to do her business unless someone stood by the door or went out with her.
Sam didn’t mind tonight. The air had gotten much cooler, a promise of the fall peeking around the corner. Maybe the fresh air would clear her mind.
Or at least, ease the ache in her heart.
“Pumpkin, I know it’s a lot to absorb about your mom. How are you feeling? Do you want to talk about it?”
Makayla had been so right.
Sam stared out the window. They’d barely gotten to the end of the street before Dad asked how she felt about Mom’s leaving.
Truth was, she still didn’t know. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, praying a lot as she tried to come to peace about the situation. Yet she was just as confused and torn today as she’d been last night. “I don’t know, Dad.”
“I understand. I really do. I’m hurt and confused about it all myself.”
Something about hearing Dad admit he was hurt tugged at Sam. “Dad, I can’t help feel like Mom’s being a bit selfish in this decision. I mean, I know this is her dream and all, and I understand that, but . . . I don’t know. I don’t want her to go because I’ll miss her. We’ll miss her. We need her here. And maybe that’s selfish of me.” She hadn’t planned to say all that, but the words just spilled out of her.
“I know. I feel the same way. I love your mother — she’s my best friend in addition to being my wife, and I want to support her in her career because she loves it so much, and I think I’ve been very supportive . . .”
“You have, Dad. I’ve never heard you complain about her assignments and being gone a lot. I’ve heard you tell her how great she’s done and stuff like that.” She’d never considered before how Dad had to be affected by Mom’s being gone so much. All the parenting duties were solely up to him, as well as his work stuff. Now that she considered it all, Sam couldn’t believe her dad wasn’t grumpy all the time. She needed to remember, so she could take it easy on him the next time they clashed over something stupid.
“Thank you, but I’ve truly never minded because your mom’s always been so passionate about her assignments, and she’s so good at what she does.”
“She is.” Which made the situation all the more difficult.
“So whatever you’re feeling is perfectly understandable. And natural. I’m feeling a lot of the same way.”
Knowing that she wasn’t alone in her feelings, Sam felt better. She also felt bad for Dad, who couldn’t even complain to his best friend about how he felt, like she could to Makayla. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
“It’s not your fault, Sam. It’s not really hers, either. It’s just . . . it is what it is, I guess.” He glanced at her before turning onto Highway 10, and the sun hit his hair just right. Big chunks of his dark hair now shone like silver.
It is what it is. Sam hated that phrase. What did it mean? That just because something was, it couldn’t be changed? Everybody just had to accept something because it was? That didn’t make any sense to her.
Most importantly, she was tired of talking about it right now. “Dad, I don’t know how I’m going to feel about this when I have time to really think it through. I’m still trying to absorb it all, you know?”
“Of course. I just want you to know I’m here for you. If you need to talk, whenever you’re ready.”
“I know.” And of course it would be Dad there for her, because Mom would be gone. “Thanks.”
She hated feeling like this! Hated that Mom had put them all in this position. And she hated that she and Dad were made to deal with this situation.
It was all so unfair.
He pulled up to the school circle. Sam grabbed her backpack, then leaned over and gave Dad a tight hug and kiss on his cheek. She got out of the truck before he could say anything. At this point, what could either of them say?
What if she and Dad just threw hissy fits to the point where Mom wouldn’t go? She’d resent them forever for forcing her to throw away her big opportunity, which wouldn’t be fair to Mom. But it wasn’t fair for them to have to just accept it.
Maybe they could accept it, but would they be able to live with it?
CHAPTER TEN
Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for forever.” Makayla grabbed Sam’s arm and tugged her to a corner area of the cafeteria as soon as Sam entered.
“How are you here so early?” Sam asked, setting her backpack on the table.
“I told you I was going to ask Mom to drive me. I told her I needed to go over a special project before school, which isn’t a lie because this is a special project. It just isn’t a school project, which I kinda implied, so maybe that means I lied after all — ”
>
“Mac!” Sometimes, Makayla needed a little nudging to stay on track.
“Oh. Sorry. I’m just so excited.”
“Okay, tell me.”
“All right, but you have to be patient and let me explain.”
Sam sighed but nodded. She’d obviously missed out on the patience gene in her DNA. “Fine.”
“I went into the message source in the header from truthtelr’s email. From that, I got the originating computer’s name and IP address. I used a GeoIP tool to look up the IP and found the name of it, so I went to whois and looked it up to find out who the owner is.” Makayla’s face was lit up like starbursts on the 4th of July.
Sam didn’t care about the how of finding out, only what was discovered. “So, you know who sent the email?”
Makayla shook her head. “I can’t find out exactly who sent the email. Not from the information I have.”
So why was she so excited?
“But,” Makayla smiled big, “I do know where the computer the email came from is.”
Sam’s own excitement built. “If we know where, then it has to be somebody who lives in that house, right?”
“The computer isn’t at a house.”
Sam’s heartbeat quickened. “A place of business?” Oh man, that meant it was probably an adult. Although, there were a lot of kids who had part-time jobs, but they were usually high school kids. Was it a high schooler?
“It’s here,” Makayla whispered, her eyes wide.
“Here?”
Makayla nodded. “Here, at the school.”
Sam couldn’t say a word. Her tongue felt like it had swollen to three times its size.
Makayla leaned even closer, where her mouth was so close to Sam’s ear that she could feel Mac’s breath when she whispered, “In the EAST lab.”
Sam could hear the blood rushing in her ears. “Someone sent Nikki that email from the EAST lab?”
Makayla nodded.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Unless someone pinged it, but I don’t think so. The trace was easy enough for me to track. I think we’re talking about someone who isn’t such a genius.”
