Who R U Really?

by Margo Kelly

  I didn’t understand the question.

  “Look at his hair,” she said. “That’s a mullet from decades ago, and how can you even think this boy is cute?”

  “I don’t care if he’s cute. It’s his personality that matters.”

  Mom threw her hands in the air and turned back to the computer. She read aloud the basic information displayed about Derek. Hometown: Statesboro, Georgia; Music: DeathTomb; Studied at: Southern Georgia University; Birthday: October. This was him. Mom scrolled down further on his profile page.

  “It says here that he is an alumnus of Southern Georgia University,” Mom said.

  “So, he’s going to college.”

  “No. Alumnus means he graduated from there.” She moved down further, and then she pointed at the monitor. “This says he graduated from Statesboro High School, class of 1986 . . . That puts him in his upper forties now.”

  My heart shattered. Was this proof? Was I required to believe it? Maybe it was some sort of typo. I rarely used Facebook, because my parents monitored our accounts. And since Derek never even mentioned Facebook, it hadn’t occurred to me to search for him there.

  Mom’s chair squeaked when she leaned back and mumbled to herself, “How could a forty-seven-year-old man be interested in a fifteen-year-old girl?”

  It made no sense.

  “You’ve made a huge mistake here.” She rubbed the edge of the desk. “I don’t think I can talk about it anymore tonight. It’s late. Go to bed.”

  “Can I have my phone back?”

  “Are you nuts?” she yelled. I must have been. Mom pocketed the phone and pulled the power cord from her computer. Then she disconnected the cord from mine as well.

  “Why are you taking those?”

  “Because you can’t be trusted. And you’re more sneaky than I ever imagined. I’ll keep these with me.”

  “When will I get them back?”

  “Never. Don’t ask again. Go to bed. And . . . don’t close your door. When I come to check on you, I had better find it wide open.”

  “Why?”

  “Thea . . . do you not get it? We had a police officer here tonight. This Derek guy knows where we live.”

  “But he’s in Georgia. He can’t do anything to us.”

  Mom winced and flung the power cords on the couch. Then she grabbed both of my shoulders. Her spittle hit me in the face. “How do you know he’s in Georgia? He could be anywhere right now with his cell phone and laptop.”

  “But Georgia is still pretty far away.”

  She shook me twice, not hard, but slow. “Thea! If he’s not already in Idaho, he could be on a plane and be in here in a matter of hours. A middle-aged man has financial resources that would allow him to do that.” My body went numb, and I could no longer feel Mom’s hands on my shoulders. She said something else to me, but her voice was muted, like I had a bunch of cotton shoved in my ears.

  “Go to bed,” she said. “I can’t deal with this anymore tonight.” She picked up the power cords, and my phone buzzed in her pocket. I needed to know what Derek texted. I was desperate to know his side of the story. Shouldn’t he get a chance to defend himself? A fire pulsed through me. Earlier, I had worried about betraying him, but if he was in his forties, then he had betrayed me. Mom left, and I stood alone in the family room, more alone than ever before in my life.

  CHAPTER 21

  Sunday was pure torture. Mom paced the house with the cordless phone, waiting for the police detective to call. But he never did. I stewed and replayed the previous night’s events over in my head. I struggled to believe it all. I needed to talk to Janie, but that wasn’t an option. I needed to talk to Derek, but that wasn’t an option either. No one could help me.

  Mom made another pass through the family room, and I asked, “Where did you put my cell phone?” It seemed like an innocent question, until she angled her head at me.

  “None of your business.” She went back to her pacing, and I stayed out of her way for the remainder of the day.

  ■

  Monday morning was worse.

  “Get up.” Mom flipped on the overhead light and stood in my doorway with one hand clutching the doorknob. Red lines crept through the whites of her eyes, and shadows darkened her lids.

  “Don’t cause any trouble today, Thea. Go to school and come straight home . . . You know, I bought that cell phone to help keep you safe. So you could call me anytime you needed me, and now, a day you truly need one, I can’t give it to you. I can’t trust you. You’d better hope Derek stayed in Georgia. Get your butt out of bed and get to school. Don’t talk to any strangers. Especially ones named Derek.” I imagined him at my bus stop, and my hands clenched. At my school. At basketball. I looked at Mom again.

  “What about tryouts?”

  She wrung her hands together and sighed. “I forgot about that. Go, and I’ll come watch. But you had better be where you are supposed to be. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “What about the detective? I thought he was supposed to call yesterday.”

  “I thought so, too. I’m going to call him this morning. I’m also calling a counselor—”

  “Why?”

  “Thea, you need something I can’t give you—”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me!”

  “Get ready for school,” she said.

  “If you’re worried about me, why don’t you drive me to school?” I asked.

  “You made these decisions that led to today. You chose to lie. And while I would prefer to drive you, I can’t do it. I’m so pissed. You have to be more responsible. You have to choose safety.”

  “I do choose safety. I am responsible. Please—”

  “No.” Mom left.

  How could she do this to me? I played a game on the Internet and met a guy. I tried to help him and be his friend. I cared about him. I still do. This was some sort of cruel misunderstanding. Derek wouldn’t lie to me, not about this. Would he? I needed to talk to him, but not in person. What if he did show up today? The thoughts and images flooded my mind.

  “Thea!” Mom had returned. “It’s been five minutes. Stop standing there and get ready for school.”

  “Okay.” I stepped forward and reached for the door to close it, but Mom prevented me.

  “Leave it open.”

  “How am I supposed to change?”

  “In the bathroom.”

  “You’re being unreasonable. What can I do in here with the door closed? You’ve already taken everything away.”

  “Do you want me to take away your door, too?”

  “Go ahead. What difference will it make?”

  “Get. Ready. For. School.” Mom left again.

  Unbelievable. She’d popped her cork. I grabbed some clean clothes and went to the bathroom.

  Fifteen minutes later, I entered the kitchen, and Seth and Mom stopped talking. Great. I was an outcast in my own home.

  “Seth’s agreed to drive you to school today,” Mom said. I eyed him suspiciously. I hated that he was the favored good child.

  “Don’t rush to thank me,” Seth said.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t.” I moved past them to grab a banana. Mom sighed and left, making me rethink my words.

  “Actually, I’m glad you’re driving me,” I said to Seth. Although I wanted to believe Derek was still in Georgia, the possibility of him lurking somewhere along my path freaked me out.

  Seth and I didn’t talk during the drive—at first—but when we drove past Marcus’s house, I asked, “Are we picking up Marcus?”

  “No. He’s sick today.”

  Coincidence?

  “How old is Marcus?” I asked.

  “What difference does it make to you?” Seth asked.

  “Just curious . . . I heard he was held back in kindergarten—”

  “Shut up.”

  I reconsidered the conversations I’d had with Marcus over the last year and the information I knew about him. His d
ad was awful. His mom was dead. He was around twenty years old. He loved winter skiing. He had multiple usernames on Skadi. I wanted Marcus to be Derek. It would solve everything. Mom could call off the police. And better yet, I could talk with him and be with him. It could all work out.

  Seth continued the drive in silence, but after a while he kept glancing at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’m trying to figure out how you could be so gullible. And how you could torment Mom and Dad like this.”

  I pulled the seatbelt away from my neck and faced him. “Let me get this straight, you and Marcus introduced me to Skadi, and I’m the one to blame?”

  “You’re so immature,” Seth said.

  “Thanks.” I wanted so badly to ask Seth if there was any chance Marcus could be Kitsuneshin, but instead I turned away from my brother and looked out the side window so he wouldn’t see the tears welling in my eyes. He parked in the student lot at school. I got out, and we went our separate directions. Seth’s words echoed in my head. I wanted to shout to the world that I was not gullible, but I feared he was right.

  “I heard the police were at your house.”

  I whipped around and found Tim behind me.

  “I was worried when you weren’t on the bus,” he said. “I thought maybe your mom or brother dropped you off. So . . . were the police at your house?”

  “Yes. How did you hear about it?” I wondered what secrets Tim kept. The officer said Derek could be someone at school. And Tim had often acted strangely around me. I examined his familiar features and decided there was no way it could be Tim. He had tried too many times to convince me to drop Derek. He wouldn’t have done that if he was in fact Derek.

  This must be what insanity felt like.

  “Word travels fast,” Tim answered. “Janie was worried. She thought an Internet predator got you or something.”

  “He is not a predator.” What was I saying? I didn’t know that. I scanned the lot for anyone who resembled Derek. Problem was . . . I was looking for an old-fashioned hairstyle from the eighties. I didn’t really know what he looked like today. And . . . maybe the picture Derek sent wasn’t even him. I had no way of knowing for sure. Tim’s blue eyes locked with mine. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to believe,” I said.

  “Come on.” Tim motioned toward the school, and I walked inside with him. He led me to the cafeteria and over to the table where Janie sat. She glanced up as we approached, but I couldn’t decipher her expression.

  “Janie, I’m sorry. For everything.” She hopped up and threw her arms around me.

  “Me, too!” Janie’s black curls smothered me, but I didn’t mind. She held on, and so did I, but even through her multiple layers of clothes, my fingers found the channels between her bony ribs. She pulled back. “I was so scared when I heard police went to your house!”

  “Sit down. You’re causing a scene,” Tim said. We huddled around the table, and I looked at him and then Janie.

  “Since when are the two of you best friends?” I asked. I made myself smile so I wouldn’t appear rude. I just got Janie back, and I didn’t want to lose her again because of my sarcasm.

  “Since we were both rejected by you,” she said and didn’t bother with a fake smile.

  “Sorry.” I took a deep breath and tucked my hair behind my ears. “I don’t know what to do.” I put my face in my hands and leaned on the table. Janie stroked my back.

  “Spill,” she said.

  I filled them in on most of the details.“I think if I could call Derek, he’d be able to explain everything. I can’t believe he’s as old as my mom thinks.”

  “You cannot call him,” Janie said. I looked at her in time to see her finish her angry head sway. She put her finger in the space between us and said, “I’m serious. Promise me you will not contact him.” Could I make that promise? I didn’t want to lie to my friend, and I didn’t want to lose her ever again.

  “You have to believe your mom,” Tim said. “Plus, you have to tell the cops about Red. He’s probably done this to other girls, and I bet they weren’t lucky like you.” My stomach twisted, and my hand flew to my mouth.

  “How could I be so stupid?” I asked. Janie put her hand on my arm.

  “You’re not stupid. You were tricked. We all were.”

  “I wasn’t,” Tim mumbled.

  Janie stuck her finger back into the air and said to him, “You do not have to be here.”

  “Sorry,” he said. He pretended to zip his lips and throw away the key. I wanted to go home and curl up in my bed and never deal with the world again.

  “So what’s going to happen now?” Janie asked.

  “I don’t know. Some detective is supposed to be investigating the case.” The first bell rang, and people started moving out of the cafeteria.

  “Hopefully, they’ll arrest him and throw him into jail,” she said. How could it be that simple for her? Part of me still hoped Derek had told me the truth all along, but the other part of me feared it was all a lie.

  “It should be easy,” Janie said as we rose from the table. “I mean, the dumb guy gave you his real name. So, it’s not like the detective has to solve some sort of mystery. We already know who he is. They can simply call up the Georgia police and arrest him.”

  I imagined my Derek behind bars, alone.

  “Right?” Janie asked.

  “Right,” I said.

  We headed to our separate classes. The day moved slower than a slug across dry pavement. My stomach ached during my last class. Even though I knew Derek would not be at basketball tryouts, I couldn’t stop imagining him showing up.

  The bell rang, and everyone rushed out of the room and into the hall. I headed for the locker room to change, and found the school resource officer, Officer Ford, waiting. He spotted me and moved forward. My heart skipped a beat, and I couldn’t swallow. He closed the distance between us.

  “Hi, Thea.” He stuck out his knuckles. “I’m Officer Ford.”

  “I know.” I bumped my knuckles against his.

  “I spoke with Detective Corbett today about your situation.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m going to keep an eye out, but you need to be careful. You never know who is prowling on the Internet. This guy could say he’s in Georgia, but for all you know, he could be your next door neighbor. You don’t know who he is.”

  If one more person tells me I don’t know who Derek is, I’m sure my head will explode into a million pieces. I nodded at the officer. Seemed like adults only wanted me to agree with their opinion anyhow.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’ve got to go. Basketball tryouts.” I could hardly breathe, let alone put a complete sentence together. I needed fresh air, but the last thing I wanted to do was go outside right now. I preferred the safety of the girls’ locker room to venturing out in the unknown world.

  Tryouts bombed. I couldn’t focus on anything but the situation with Derek and the police. And to make things worse, Coach Gavyn was there helping the basketball coaches keep stats. Every time he filled a sheet with tryout statistics, he pulled it off his clipboard and taped it to the gym wall.

  The basketball coach yelled at me, “Thea! Get your head in the game!”

  Right.

  Mom walked into the gym and caught my eye. She moved toward the bleachers and inspected the crowd. I was surprised she didn’t carry a mug shot of Derek with her to compare more precisely. I was certain he wasn’t there, and that he wasn’t coming. I decided they were all making a big deal out of nothing.

  Afterward, Mom and I walked to the car together. I was too lazy to change out of my practice clothes, and I nearly froze to death when the cold air hit the perspiration on my skin. I moved faster to stay somewhat warm and to get to the car sooner.

  “How’d you do today?” Mom asked.

  “Fine.”

  “I talked with Detective Corbett. We have an appointment with him at seven A.M. Wednesday morning.”

  �
�Why so early?”

  “Well, it was either first thing in the morning or right after school, and I didn’t think you’d want to miss two days of basketball tryouts.”

  “Two days?”

  “Tomorrow you have an appointment with a counselor.”

  I stopped walking. Mom took a few more steps before she noticed, and then turned and held a hand up to shield her eyes from the bright December sun.

  “I don’t need a counselor,” I said, “and I can’t miss tryouts. I’m a sophomore. I have to work harder to impress the basketball coach to make the team.”

  “Well, you should have thought of that before you started lying to me so many months ago. My choices did not put us into this situation. You made the choices, and now, you get to deal with the consequences. And so do I.” Without another word, she continued toward the car. I gave up and followed; I was too cold to stand there and argue. Once we were settled in the car, I tried one more time.

  “Please don’t make me miss basketball.”

  Mom put the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it. “You need to see a counselor because of this long-term grooming. We need to find out why this happened and make sure it never happens again. And you’ve shut down. You’ve hardly shed a tear or expressed any emotion whatsoever at this situation. It’s unhealthy for you to bottle it up. You were deceived, betrayed, and hurt like I can’t even imagine, and yet, you’re not crying, not yelling, not anything. I want you to express your emotions.”

  “Long-term grooming? What does that even mean?”

  “It’s when an adult makes an emotional bond with a child for sexual gratification. This guy has manipulated you and gotten you to trust him.”

  “I’m not a child.”

  Mom tightened her fingers around the steering wheel.

  “Please don’t make me miss basketball,” I whispered.

  Mom started the car. “I’ll see if I can change it, but I can’t promise.” Mom drove the rest of the way home in silence. She didn’t ask me what my favorite thing about the day was. She didn’t ask me what the worst part of my day was.