I wondered who they were in real life. Geeks no doubt. Who else would think about homework on a Friday night?
Next I checked out the menu for the Wellington Room. That was where kids could talk about what was going on at school. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There had to be thirty names on the list!
I tried to imagine who they belonged to. Trixie, Zelda, Fish, 3M—most of the names were pretty weird. Mountain Man, Luster, Goddess, Freaky Filly—there was no way to tell who was who. What kind of kids would go to that room? Student council? School club members? Newspaper and yearbook reporters maybe?
I scanned the rest of the list, nervous and curious at the same time. Then one name caught my attention and I stopped. It was Cyrano—as in Cyrano de Bergerac. Only last week that movie had been on television. It was set in olden times. Once I got used to the guys in balloon pants and big floppy hats, I’d loved it! It was sad, but so romantic.
In the movie, Cyrano was in love with this beautiful girl named Roxane, but she didn’t know he was alive. So when Cyrano’s friend, Christian, asked Cyrano to help him win Roxane’s heart, Cyrano wrote a bunch of amazing love letters and poems for Christian to give her. Now that is what I call true love.
What sort of teenage boy would choose Cyrano for a nickname? Most high school guys wouldn’t have a clue who Cyrano de Bergerac was, so I was pretty sure it had to be someone who’d seen the movie. It also had to be someone sensitive and romantic.
Just the same, I was curious. I needed to know what Cyrano was saying. And that meant I had to go into the chat room.
Before I could change my mind, I clicked on the registration page. Psyching myself up for what I was about to do, I read the instructions seven or eight times. Then, flexing my fingers, I filled in the first information box with my student number. Moving to the second box, I typed in my e-mail address. There was just one more piece of information left to fill in—my nickname.
I didn’t allow myself to think about what I was doing, because if I did, I knew I would chicken out. I just typed the name and hit Enter.
Zhwuuup! In a flash my information was gone, launched into cyberspace somewhere. Before I had time to blink, a new page appeared on the screen. It was bare except for two short sentences: You are logged on, Roxane. You may now enter a forum.
My heart started beating so hard it hurt. Oh my god—what had I done? I was a registered chatter! Now I could be traced. The site administrator could track me down.
So what? a voice inside my head demanded. You haven’t done anything wrong. Everyone else can be traced too. That’s what makes the chat rooms safe.
It was true. The site was safe. I had nothing to worry about. And besides, I had no intention of actually chatting. I just wanted to see what people talked about—especially Cyrano.
I navigated back to the Forums page and pulled down the menu for the Wellington Room. Cyrano was still there. Pressing my lips tightly together, I ran the cursor over the Enter button and left-clicked.
I was in.
The inside of the chat room was two pages rolled together—one on top of the other. The upper page framed the one underneath. It had a banner at the top identifying the chat room and a script box at the bottom where you could type what you wanted to say. As soon as you hit the Enter button, your message appeared on the page inside the frame along with the messages everyone else was sending.
Even though the chat room had only been open for a few hours, the list of messages was super long. Feeling like an eavesdropper I scrolled through the page, stopping now and then to read what people had written.
Lotto: This is 1 of the best ideas Wellington has ever had. 3 cheers for that kid who set it up.
Wingding: No kidding. Anybody know when the next school dance is?
I scrolled down some more.
Ferris: If you’re not in any of the events 4 the gym riot, do U have 2 go 2 school next Friday?
It was Cyrano who answered.
Cyrano: Why wouldn’t U want 2 go? The gym riot’s going 2 be great. Get involved. You’ll have a lot of fun.
Something like relief washed over me. This Cyrano seemed just as nice as the one in the movie.
chapter four
My eyes were burning. No, that’s not true. They were past burning. They’d moved on to aching, and they were watering too.
I turned off the computer and squinted at my watch. It was nearly ten o’clock! No wonder my eyes were killing me. I’d been staring at the computer screen for five straight hours.
“Linda?” My mother poked her head around the door. “You still in here?” She sounded surprised. “Your dad and I have hardly seen you all weekend. Aren’t you finished your homework yet?”
I glanced at the pile of schoolbooks on the corner of the desk and cringed. I hadn’t even looked at my homework. I’d been so caught up in the school’s chat rooms I’d completely forgotten I had any. And now that my eyes had gone on strike, I couldn’t do homework if I wanted to.
I wasn’t going to tell my mother that though.
“I was just going to bed,” I said.
She gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Good. Enough is enough. Weekends are supposed to be a time to rest up and recharge your batteries. A little homework is fine, but this is ridiculous. I have half a mind to call the school and complain.”
Instant panic.
“Ah, Mom,” I groaned. “Don’t do that. It’ll just get my teachers ticked. And anyway, it’s not like it happens all the time.”
She didn’t look convinced.
“I’m serious,” I said. “I’m in high school, Mother. If you call the school, I’ll look like a total loser.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fine. I get the message. But this better not become a habit.”
My heart started beating again. Now all I had to do was pray that none of my teachers collected the weekend’s assignments.
I scooped up my books, gave Mom a peck on the cheek and headed for my room. I felt kind of guilty. I hadn’t exactly lied to my mother, but if she knew I’d spent the entire weekend inside a chat room, she’d freak out.
Assuming she actually believed that’s what I’d done, that is. Even I thought it was bizarre. All I’d intended to do was take a quick look to see if Cyrano was anything like the guy in the movie. That’s it. Nothing more. But once I got inside and started reading all the messages, I couldn’t stop.
By the end of the weekend I’d begun to feel like I knew the people who were writing them—the repeat chatters anyway.
There were lots of names that only showed up once—they were just checking things out I guess. There was also a bunch of kids who chatted everyday. After a while I got so I didn’t even have to look to see who they were. I knew who was talking just by what they were saying and the abbreviations they used.
When I got to school Monday morning, I found myself secretly watching everyone I passed in the hall. Who was Fish? Who was 3M? And of course, who was Cyrano?
“Linda!” A voice broke into my thoughts and I looked around to see a girl hurrying along the hall toward me. It was Sheri Owen, the junior captain of my house team, and she was waving a paper in the air. “Linda Copley?” she said as she skidded to a stop.
I nodded.
“Just the person I’m looking for,” she grinned and stabbed a finger at the paper. “You haven’t signed up for the gym riot yet, and we still have lots of spots to fill.”
On the outside I didn’t move a hair, but on the inside I was backing up big-time. The last thing I needed was to make a fool of myself in front of the whole school. “Oh, I don’t know, Sheri,” I hedged while I tried to think of a good excuse for not signing up.
But Sheri shook her head. “Don’t bail on me, Linda. Our house needs you. We really want to win this thing.”
I shook my head and smiled self-consciously. “Then you don’t want me. I’m terrible at sports.”
She waved away my protest. “If you’re worried about messing up, don’t even think
about it. This isn’t like real sports. These are goofy events. Everybody looks silly doing them. That’s what makes it fun. What do you say? I’ll sign you up for the chain-gang relay. There will be a whole crowd of kids out there, so you’ll blend right in. And remember, it’s a beach theme, so dig out your shades and flip-flops and the wildest summer shirt you can find.”
Then before I could open my mouth to argue, she added my name to the list and hurried off to pounce on another unsuspecting victim.
Wonderful! Now I could spend the entire week worrying about Friday. Or I could simply decide to be sick that day. Or—I thought about what Cyrano had said—I could go and have fun. It looked like everybody else had fun doing it, but...
I glanced up to see Janice standing at her locker. She was frowning at me. I pretended I didn’t see and started dialing in my combo.
“What was that all about?” She nodded toward Sheri who was flitting from one kid to another like a crazed hummingbird.
I sighed. “She is recruiting for the gym riot.”
“You didn’t get sucked in, did you?”
I started to bristle. “Why do you have to be so negative about everything?”
“You did get sucked in,” Janice snorted, turning back to her own locker.
“I did not!”
She eyed me skeptically. “You didn’t sign up for an event?”
“So what if I did? Taking part in the world doesn’t mean you’ve been sucked in. It means...” I scrambled for something profound to say. “It means you’re taking part in the world.” Then because I knew how lame that sounded, I snapped, “You should try it sometime.”
Janice didn’t seem impressed. Instead she changed the subject. “Did you get my e-mail?”
Oh, good. Something else for her to get on my case about. As I reached into my locker and started rooting around for my books, I muttered, “What e-mail?”
“Don’t be cute. You know what e-mail I’m talking about. You’ve been chatting online, haven’t you?”
I pulled my head out of my locker and glared at her. “For your information, I have not been chatting.” Literally speaking, it was the truth. “Not that it’s any of your business,” I added. “And not that there’s anything wrong with it either.”
For about half a second, Janice seemed surprised. But then her expression became smug again and she said, “Oh, I get it. You’ve been into the chat rooms. You just haven’t done any talking yet.”
What could I say? She was right. I sure as heck wasn’t going to admit that to her though. So I just shut my locker door and left.
chapter five
It really bugged me the way Janice lectured me whenever I didn’t agree with her. If she was entitled to think what she wanted, then so was I. And I could do what I wanted too. But there was no sense living through one of her tirades if I didn’t have to. So when I went from being a chat room observer to becoming an actual participant, I didn’t bother telling her.
It was Tuesday evening, and I had just logged into The Hot Spot. The topic was music, and people were trying to figure out what the top-selling album of all time was.
Frisky Filly: I bet it’s rap. Something by Eminem.
3M: Nah. Doubt it. It’s gotta be an album from a million years ago.
Wingding: Something by The Rolling Stones? Those guys have been around 4ever.
3M: Why not something modern like Usher’s Confessions? That’s really big.
Wingding: Usher sucks. Maybe he’s hot now, but he won’t be 4 long.
3M: So what? The CD will still have sold a lot.
Dogger: It could be a movie soundtrack. My sister works in a music store, and she says soundtracks are really big.
Frisky Filly: My money’s on Thriller by Michael Jackson. My parents say it was huge in the ‘80s.
Roxane: You’re close. Thriller is #2. The Eagles Greatest Hits has it beat. I saw it on Much Music.
I pulled my fingers back from the keyboard as if it had burned me. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done.
Surfing through the chat rooms during the last five days I’d been like a fly on the wall, quietly taking everything in. It had felt weird at first, like I was eavesdropping or something, but after a while I’d stopped thinking about it.
I just wanted to see what everyone had to say. I never planned to get involved, though, and now I felt totally exposed.
Staring at the monitor, I waited for one of the other chatters to shoot me down. Then Cyrano’s name popped up on the screen, and I felt my whole body clench. But when I read what he said, I relaxed again.
Cyrano: That’s right. I saw that Much Music show too. 28 mill. That’s how many Greatest Hits albums The Eagles have sold. Thriller sold 27.
Anxiously I waited for the next few messages, expecting someone to challenge or belittle what I’d said. But it didn’t happen. Nobody treated my comments any differently than anyone else’s.
I know it sounds dumb, but that was a major turning point for me. For the rest of the week, I visited the chat rooms every day and took part in the conversations. It was the first time I had ever been part of a group. It didn’t matter who the chat room people were in real life. The important thing was that while we were online, I was one of them.
I was happier than I’d been in my entire school life. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying I’m normally an unhappy person. I’m not. It’s just that I felt bouncier, kind of like I was walking on a trampoline.
Everything seemed easier, even breathing, and no matter what happened during the day, I knew I had something to look forward to when I got home. I didn’t even worry about the gym riot coming up on Friday.
Until it arrived, that is.
As I started getting into my beach clothes, all my insecurities resurfaced. Was everyone going to think I looked dumb? What if I messed up during my event? Were people going to laugh at me? And what if my house lost because I screwed up?
I studied my reflection in the mirror—white capris, floral Hawaiian shirt, ponytail sticking out the back of a Blue Jays ball cap, sunglasses, sunscreen on my nose and turquoise flip-flops on my feet. I definitely looked summery, but what if all the other girls looked like swimsuit models?
I couldn’t take the chance. I whipped off the beach outfit and replaced it with a pair of black shorts and a plain white T-shirt. Then I put on my socks and runners. I looked at myself again. Now I was pretty much invisible, but at least I wouldn’t get laughed at.
I still felt like I was dressed in neon lights when I took the floor for the chain-gang relay. I knew Janice was sitting in the bleachers somewhere, shaking her head at my stupidity, but I didn’t look around to see where she was. Instead I let my eyes glaze over, pasted a smile on my face and tried to look like I fit in.
Sheri was right about lots of people taking part in the event. There were four teams and a dozen kids on each team. I didn’t know many of the grade tens, elevens and twelves, but I’d spent my entire school life with most of the grade nines, so I searched for a familiar face.
Chad Sharp, the guy who’d started the chat rooms, was on my team. He looked as self-conscious as I felt, so I went and stood beside him.
Right away, he looked relieved. Misery loves company, I guess.
“Sheri got you too?” he mumbled, his face instantly flushing bright red.
I shrugged. “Maybe it’ll be fun.” I’m not sure who I was trying to convince, Chad or myself.
And then someone from the student council was at the microphone explaining the rules. The chain-gang relay was an obstacle course that you had to complete holding hands, so that each team formed a human chain. If you broke the chain you had to start over. The first team to finish was the winner.
Sandy Wade from my English class grabbed one of my hands and dragged me into line. Then somebody else took my other hand and fell in behind me. The hand was hot and sweaty, and I glanced back to see who it belonged to. It was Chad. He looked more uncomfortable than ever, so I smiled.
&
nbsp; And then we were off. At first all I noticed were the screaming spectators, but as we got deeper into the race, their shouts faded away, and I focused on clearing the obstacles and hanging on to Sandy and Chad. No fear there: Sandy’s nails dug into my hand like hooks, and Chad had hold of me so tight, I couldn’t have shaken him loose if I’d tried.
Our team messed up twice, but I guess the other teams had to start over too, because somehow we won.
And then suddenly I could hear the crowd again. Everybody was cheering. It was great—except for one thing. My left hand felt as if the bones in it had been welded together.
“Chad,” I winced as I tried to pry my crushed fingers free. “If you’re finished with my hand, do you think I could have it back?”
chapter six
After school I couldn’t wait to visit the chat rooms, but if I headed for the computer the second I walked in the door, my parents would wonder what was going on. Luckily they had a party to go to that night, so as soon as they left I logged into the Wellington Room.
I hadn’t expected many kids to be online—after all, it was Friday night—but there were quite a few chatters. They were all talking about the gym riot. It had been a huge success. Reliving it made it even better, and after reading everyone’s comments I started to feel like I’d had a good time too.
Fish: That bat-spinning race was hilarious. I swear I peed myself laughing.
Roxane: I wondered what that puddle on the floor was.
Cyrano: Ooh, good 1. She got ya, man.
Somewhere around ten o’clock, the chatters started dropping out, and by eleven, the only ones left were Cyrano and me. We were still rehashing the day.
Cyrano: So what was your favorite event?
Roxane: I liked the blindfolded feeding contest. That was pretty funny. And messy! I also liked the chain-gang relay. What about U?
Cyrano: What a coincidence!!! Those were my fave events 2!! Great minds think alike.
Roxane: Or small minds seldom differ.
Cyrano: I think U just insulted me.
Chat Room Page 2
