Chat Freak

by Terry Brown

  Morgan sat motionless. Then her hands started trembling. What in the world have I done? What if ANNA died because of her? She’d only wanted to help, to be ANNA’s friend! Mechanically, she logged off the Internet, shut down, and watched the screen go black. Something inside Morgan shut down at the same time.

  chapter. 9

  Wednesday passed in a stunned blur as Morgan went about her restaurant duties, with the words of ANNA’s mother replaying repeatedly in her head. She knew she needed to write back, but her mind wouldn’t seem to function. She skipped the TodaysGirls.com chat that night and even neglected her other email, including requests for information about last_wish.

  The next morning, Morgan woke up on the Chandlers’ couch and slapped at her alarm clock until it turned off. No light filtered through the drapes of the den. Four A.M.? Just for a minute, she couldn’t remember why she was supposed to get up. The Gnosh didn’t open for two hours. Then it hit her. She’d set her alarm to get up early Thursday morning to tackle the backed-up e-mail before going to the Gnosh—and to write that apology. From now on, she intended to do her e-mail before work and leave the laptop at home.

  Morgan’s whole body felt sluggish, but she dragged herself out of the bed. Stumbling to the desk where she’d set up her computer, she plugged into the Chandlers’ phone line. No one would even know she was using it at this hour. She washed her face in cold water to wake up, then logged on.

  Dreading what she knew she needed to do, Morgan started to compose her letter three different times, deleted it, then started again. Nothing sounded right. Tears welled up, and she brushed them away. Finally, she just decided to say what was on her heart:

  Dear ANNA (and Marilyn, too, if you’re reading!):

  I don’t know how to say this except to just say it. I am so sorry for interfering and giving bad advice. I didn’t know the whole situation, and I had no business telling you to ignore your mom and not see a counselor. It sounds like you have a serious eating disorder that could be life threatening. Please listen to your mom and the counselor and get help.

  Morgan paused, thinking again about that Higher Power stuff she’d read on the Internet and about Amber’s Easter messages all week. She added:

  I don’t know what your beliefs are, ANNA, but maybe you could go to church on Easter and find help there. If you want to, keep me posted on how you’re doing. I’ll listen, but I won’t give any more advice. Take care. --Morgan (jellybean).

  Then she logged into GlobalBuddies.com, entering her alias and password. She wanted to check on last_wish, if he was there, and then she’d tackle the backlog of e-mail messages waiting for her. When the chat room opened, she was surprised to find about thirty names listed in the room. Did everyone get up this early? Then she realized that they were in a variety of time zones around the world.

  Before she could scroll through the whole list of names, a tiny beep and blinking message icon popped up:

  Last_wish has invited you to a private chat. Do you wish to join the room?

  Morgan clicked on yes and a small screen opened where only her name and last_wish’s appeared.

  Morgan sighed. At least she was actually helping last_wish and his mom. Morgan bit her upper lip. She had planned to keep it all a surprise, but maybe she’d tell him about the money after all. She needed someone to be happy with her.

  last_wish: U there?

  jellybean14: yes. i’m staying this week @ a friend’s house. sorry I haven’t written much. i’ve been so busy working. r u feeling rested?

  last_wish: had a better day than most. mom’s @ work--i’m just lonely, i guess

  jellybean14: i’ve got a big surprise 4 U!

  Morgan went on to tell him about the donation box and the cards coming in from all over the country.

  jellybean14: & i keep getting donations 4 UR mom!

  last_wish: I can’t believe it! U R the best friend we could have! did u open bank account for mom?

  jellybean14: nope--we’ve got a donations box @ the restaurant--and we got your cards sent there cause nobody @ my house 2 pick up mail.

  last_wish: this is so cool. the last wish restaurant! People in california--at least in our neighborhood--don’t do stuff like this. U have 2 work today?

  jellybean14: yes, but just breakfast & lunch. we’re closing early all week. good thing 2. I need 2 work w/ friends on a school project that’s due Monday. Y R U up so early, anyway? don’t meds make u sleepy?

  last_wish: yeah--but i woke up when mom left. i do think i oughta go back 2 bed now tho. glad u were online--cured my lonelies.

  jellybean14: will write LTR. have 2 answer some e-mail and get ready 4 work. write soon! i’ll keep working on the $$.

  last_wish: thanks! It will mean a lot 2 my mom. don’t work 2 hard. have a good day.

  jellybean14: U 2. bye

  Morgan stretched and yawned, rubbing her neck. Her neck and back seemed to ache all the time these days, and her temples were already beginning to throb. She could hardly remember the last day she hadn’t had a headache. But somehow it didn’t matter so much now. Last_wish had sounded so excited by her news.

  Stretching her neck from side to side, Morgan was vaguely aware of sounds of stirring elsewhere in the Chandler house.

  For the next hour, Morgan replied to nearly twenty requests for more information about last_wish and his mom. She was touched by how many said they were sending cards, but with more than a dollar inside, sometimes as much as twenty. They wanted her to keep them informed about last_wish’s condition, too. Some even suggested she set up a Web site.

  “Morgan,” Jamie called from the hallway, surprising her. “Bathroom’s free.”

  “Be there in a minute.” Morgan finished the last three e-mails just in time for three new ones to pop up. The subject lines showed they were also about donating money to last_wish. Clenching her teeth and ignoring her headache, she answered each one’s questions. This is for a very good cause, she reminded herself when she wanted to quit.

  “I’m leaving now,” Jamie said, popping into the den. “Are you rea—” She stopped short. “You’re not even dressed! The place opens in twenty minutes!”

  “Oh, man, I got caught up—” Morgan looked longingly at Jamie. “Could you do me a favor? If I give you my key to open, can you go do that? I’m right behind you. I just have to get dressed,” she said, logging off the computer and shutting its lid.

  “Won’t Benny be there getting the food started?” Jamie asked. “He can just let me in.”

  “You know Benny. He takes care of the food. Period. You could bang on the door all day and he wouldn’t even look up.”

  “True. Give me your key then.” Jamie nodded at the computer. “Was all that for last_wish?”

  Morgan remembered the letter to ANNA’s family, but answered, “Mostly.”

  Jamie stuck the key in her pocket. “I can open, but you’d better hurry. Amber’s not that experienced, so she’s still kinda slow.”

  Morgan jumped up, grabbed her clothes and shampoo, and headed for the shower down the hall. “I’ll be there before you know it. Thanks a million.”

  But by the time Morgan dragged her weary body through the shower, got dressed, and walked to the Gnosh after finding her bike tire flat, it was nearly seven! She moaned inwardly when she glanced through the front window and saw the crowd filling all the booths and most of the tables. She hurried inside.

  Jamie rushed by her, balancing three plates full of fried eggs and French toast. “It’s about time!” she snapped, hurrying to set the plates down at booth number three. “I can’t handle your booths plus half the tables! Hurry up!” After stacking dirty dishes in a plastic tub, she rushed back to the kitchen.

  Amber was at the cash register, frowning as she tried to work the right buttons, and customers were lined up three-deep waiting on her. She glanced up and flashed a look of irritation at Morgan, but said nothing. Morgan grabbed some dirty glasses and ran to the kitchen for her apron and order pad. She halt
ed when she saw the dishes piled high already in the sink. A small army must have stopped there for breakfast.

  “We’re out of water glasses and spoons already,” Jamie said. “Can you wash some quick?”

  “Sure.” Morgan ran hot water in the sink. “Use the to-go cups and spoons while I run the dishwasher.” She grabbed a double handful of spoons and dropped them into a dishwasher rack. “Or do you want me out front?”

  “Load the dishes, then bus tables, then take orders.” Jamie glanced at Benny, who stood hunched over the huge griddle, flipping pancakes and French toast. “And whatever you do, please don’t get online.”

  “I didn’t bring my laptop.”

  “Well, thank goodness for small favors.”

  For the next hour, Morgan ran at top speed to help get things caught up. Even when the crowd thinned, she didn’t slow down. She had to make up to Amber and Jamie for being late again. If her dad ever found out how neglectful she’d been at the Gnosh all week, she’d be in deep trouble.

  At four o’clock Benny left, without a word, by way of the back door. About five, Morgan was still mopping when the phone rang. “Gnosh Pit.” Morgan’s voice was tired and flat.

  “Well there she is . . . the hardest-working daughter a man could have. How’s my little jellybean?”

  “Hi, Dad.” Morgan felt herself relax just hearing her dad’s voice. “I haven’t heard from you lately. I’ve missed you.”

  “Me, too. We all wanted to talk to you. We called Jamie’s for a while, early this morning. The line was busy.”

  “Oh, that was my fault.” Morgan thought quickly. “I was researching my seals project online since I didn’t get to go with you to New York.” As soon as the words were out, Morgan wanted to bite her tongue off. Now she was telling lies to her father. She’d never done that before.

  “Well, watch that the Chandlers’ line isn’t tied up. You should probably work at the library for that. Honey, you sound exhausted. How’re things going?”

  “Pretty good. I’m just tired.” She stretched and yawned loudly into the phone. “We were slammed and we’re still cleaning up. I should probably go help.” A minute later, they’d said their good-byes and she was off the phone. She overheard Jamie talking to Amber where they sat in a booth out front.

  “I’ve worked a lot this week,” Jamie was saying, “and so has Mom. We’re going to have what she calls bonding time over dinner.” She turned and saw Morgan in the doorway. “Will you be home for dinner tonight?”

  “No, I’ll grab something here because I want to stay and restock. You and your mom go ahead and bond away.” Morgan smiled, knowing she would feel a little less guilty about the morning if she stayed late and worked hard.

  “Well, OK then.” Jamie slid out of the booth and stood close to the counter. “Hey, Morg. I’m sorry about being so crabby this morning. I was frustrated and breakfast wasn’t going well . . . there’s no excuse, though.”

  Morgan hung her head. “You don’t need to apologize. I would have been mad at me, too.” She glanced up, relieved. “Thanks, though. Sorry ’bout being late. I’ll be at your house as soon as I’m finished.”

  “If we go anywhere, we’ll leave the house unlocked. See you when you get done.”

  “I’ll stay and help,” Amber said, “then give you a lift home.”

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  “I want to.” She smiled tiredly as Jamie left. “There’s not that much to do really, not if we split it.”

  Amber got the closing checklist from the kitchen and came back to the register. She read aloud from the list as she divided the chores. “OK, Morgan, you scour pans, load dishwasher, turn off the deep-fat fryer . . .” Morgan nodded, barely listening as she sorted through the money in the last_wish box. People had stuffed dollar bills in there along with their change!

  “. . . I’ll sweep if you mop, then we can refill everything, and take out the garbage,” Amber finished.

  “I’ll get busy right away,” Morgan said, putting the donation money back in the box. What was it Amber had told her to do first? Oh yeah, load the dishwasher. Afterward, Morgan scoured the cooking pans, rinsed them, and sanitized them in the small countertop dishwasher. Weariness threatened to overcome her, but she pushed on. She glanced around the kitchen and noted the overflowing garbage cans. “Take out garbage,” she muttered, grabbing the roll of black plastic bags with orange ties. When finished, she hoisted two of the heavy bags over her shoulders to carry out the back door.

  Outside, she was surprised how dark it was already. She stopped a moment to study the stars. Holding her breath as she lifted the heavy metal lid of the Dumpster, Morgan then heaved the bags, one at a time, over the side. She let the lid fall with a clang.

  She walked back up the short alley and opened the kitchen door, pausing a moment to study the night sky and find the Big Dipper. Then, suddenly, metal pans crashed to the floor from inside. Morgan’s heart pounded at the sound of Amber’s high-pitched wail.

  chapter. 10

  Morgan tore into the kitchen at the sound of Amber’s . piercing scream. Across the room, Amber stood at the big triple sink, tears streaming down her face, with her left arm under the running water.

  “What happened?” Morgan raced around the big sink to reach Amber. Her blonde hair hung down over her face. “What happened?” she asked again.

  “I wasn’t looking—I mean, I thought you emptied the hot grease, and I went ahead—” Amber drew in a hissing breath between her teeth. “Man this really hurts.”

  “Keep it under the cold water,” Morgan said. “I’ll get some ice, too. Dad says that’s the best thing for burns.”

  Morgan grabbed a handful of ice cubes from the freezer— dropping half of them on the floor—and threw them into a clean dishtowel, then hurried back to her friend. Amber sucked in her breath sharply, and held out her arm. All the way from her wrist to her elbow, the skin on the back of her arm was rippled with small red blisters already rising along the surface. Morgan opened the towel and blanched as Amber closed her eyes, bit her lower lip, and lowered the back of her arm onto the ice.

  “You have to believe me,” Morgan stammered. “I didn’t hear you tell me to dump the hot oil. I loaded dishes, and took out garbage—”

  “It’s OK,” Amber answered, still biting her lip. “But I think I need to go home. I don’t feel so good.”

  “Here. Sit down.” Morgan kicked the stepstool toward them and gently wrapped the towel up and around Amber’s arm. “Hold that and let me get the first aid kit.” She pulled it down off the shelf, opened it, and read the names of the medications. “Here,” she cried. “Burn Relief !” She snagged several packets of the medicine, four nonstick gauze pads, and the roll of adhesive tape. “You need to have that covered on the way home.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. Dad drilled Maya and me on first aid and what to do in case of accidents. You need to cover it and keep out the air. Here, lemme get that ice off. Now hold your arm out.” Morgan dumped the supplies in Amber’s lap and tore the medicine open, pack by pack, dripping a thick coating across the whole burn area. Then she laid the gauze pads over the medication and loosely taped them to the bottom of Amber’s arm.

  “This will keep it clean and protected till you get home.” Remembering the redness and texture of the injury, Morgan took a deep shuddering breath. “You might have to see a doctor. Oh, Amber, I’m so sorry!” And she burst into tears.

  Amber patted Morgan’s shoulder with her good arm. “Don’t cry. I’ll be fine. This medicine is totally helping. And I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.”

  Morgan stared at the floor as Amber walked out the front door. She honestly hadn’t heard Amber’s directions, but she knew it was because she’d been busy counting the money in the do nation box. Without wanting to, Morgan instantly recalled ANNA’s situation. Amber wasn’t the only person she’d hurt lately.

  Morgan locked up the Gnosh Pit and cut through the park t
oward the Chandlers’ house. Her loneliness pressed like a steel vice-grip across her chest, and the guilt stewed sourly just below, making her stomach hurt.

  I’m so disgusted with myself ! she thought. I want my mom— she’d know how to make me feel better. Or Dad. Anybody . . . just to make this feeling go away. The tears started flowing as she imagined Amber’s arm—seriously burned just because she was spaced out thinking about last_wish. Even ANNA’s life was in jeopardy because of well-meant advice she’d given. She wiped off her face as she turned into the Chandlers’ driveway.

  Morgan expected to find Jamie and her mom at home, but the house was quiet. She remembered the bonding time when she read a note on the kitchen table: “Morgan, Mom and I went to Mario’s for dinner. Back soon!”

  Morgan’s shoulders sagged. She didn’t want to be alone. This time last week, she would have been thrilled to have the empty house to herself to be online. But tonight it just made her want to cry again. Maybe she’d just go to bed early. She got halfway upstairs when she heard voices, so she returned to the kitchen.

  “Hey! We brought lasagna,” Jamie called.

  Mrs. Chandler nodded toward the microwave. “Want me to warm some for you?”

  “No thanks.” Morgan plopped down at the table. “I’ve really made a mess of everything.”

  Jamie’s mom sat next to her and looked concerned. “What’s happened?”

  “I accidentally hurt Amber.”

  “You did what?” Jamie sat opposite Morgan.

  “I messed up while we were cleaning. I wasn’t listening when Amber was reading my list of stuff to do, and I didn’t empty the hot oil from the deep-fat fryer. She was putting pans away over the fryers, and when one fell from the shelf, she caught it midair, but not without dunking the back of her arm right down into the hot oil. She got burned pretty bad—the whole back of her arm. I didn’t hear her instructions . . .” Morgan’s voice trailed off. “I got distracted and was counting the donation money for last_wish.”