Then I hit Enter, and as my message popped up on the screen, I heaved a satisfied sigh and sank back in my chair. That should do the trick nicely.
chapter nine
Janice never asked me who left the rose. In fact she never mentioned it at all. I was sort of disappointed. I mean, here I was floating around in the clouds—I couldn’t have been higher if I’d been on drugs. I wanted to share my excitement with someone, even if that someone was Janice. The secret was just too delicious to keep to myself.
So when Cyrano’s next gift arrived, I didn’t try to hide it. This time it was candy—a huge box of chocolates mailed to the school! I couldn’t believe it when I got called to the office to pick it up. Of course Janice heard my name over the public address system, and when she asked me about it, I couldn’t help myself. I started gushing about Cyrano.
I expected her to jump down my throat. But all she did was close her eyes and shake her head. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t even try a chocolate.
However, when the poem showed up, I kept it completely to myself. It was delivered through the vents of my locker, and it was much too personal to share with anyone.
The poem said things Cyrano could never say in a chat room. Even though I read it in the privacy of the girls’ washroom, I still blushed.
Suddenly my life had turned into a wonderful dream.
Even so, I still found myself getting frustrated. I wanted the dream to become reality. Cyrano knew who I was, and I wanted to know who he was too. We continued to meet in the chat rooms, but now that our relationship had moved to another level, that wasn’t enough for me.
In the chat rooms, we were never alone. There were always dozens of other chatters, and though I left subtle messages about his gifts, Cyrano never let on that he understood.
I guess he didn’t want to make the other chatters suspicious, but that didn’t help me. I needed some kind of acknowledgment. He obviously liked me. Why else would he give me presents? When was he going to show himself?
The answer to that question arrived on Friday, along with another gift. Like the poem, it arrived through the vents of my locker.
I found it as I was putting my books away after school. I picked it up and read the now familiar handwriting. For Linda. I assumed it was another poem, but when I tore open the envelope, tucked inside was a ticket to that night’s dance. And stuck to the ticket was a Post-it telling me he’d meet me at the entrance to the gym at eight o’clock.
Janice must have heard me squeal, because right away she peered around the door of her locker. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” I had my hand over my mouth to keep from blinding her with my smile.
She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. Your secret admirer has struck again.”
I nodded. “He wants me to go to the dance with him. Look.” I held out the envelope. “He even bought me a ticket.”
Suddenly Janice didn’t seem bored anymore. “What? Let me see that.” She snatched the ticket out of my hand. “You’re not going, right?”
I grabbed the ticket back. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m going. This is my chance to meet Cyrano face-to-face. Why wouldn’t I do it?”
“Because you don’t know anything about the guy. He could be a fruitcake.”
“He is not a fruitcake. I’ve been talking with him practically every day for nearly three weeks. He’s really nice.”
She dismissed my comments with a sneer. “You don’t know that. Anybody can pretend to be someone they’re not when they’re in a chat room. For all you know, I could be this Cyrano character.”
I have to admit that shook me up a little.
“You aren’t, though, are you?” I asked warily.
“Of course I’m not!” she bellowed. “Don’t be an idiot. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a chat room. I just don’t want you to be caught dead outside one.”
I screwed up my face. “What are you talking about?”
“Did it ever occur to you that you could get hurt? You don’t know this guy! So you chat with him online. So he sends you presents. So what? He could still be a nutcase.”
“He isn’t.”
“Says you. Can’t you see what’s happening? You’re so desperate to have a boyfriend you don’t care who the guy is. You’d throw yourself into the arms of the Boston Strangler if he looked at you sideways!”
“Shut up, Janice.” I don’t normally say stuff like that, but this time Janice had pushed me too far. “I am really tired of listening to you and your negative attitude,” I seethed. “It doesn’t seem to bother you that everybody is having fun except you. You actually seem to like being on the outside of everything. Well, fine. If you want to hate the world, go right ahead. But count me out. I’ve finally got a chance to become a part of things, and I’m going to take it. Whether you approve or not, I’m going to this dance.”
You would have thought I’d hit her. She actually fell back a couple of steps. But she didn’t say a word. She just closed her locker and left. She didn’t even say goodbye.
Janice and I normally ride the same bus home, but I didn’t want to risk anotherargument, so I stalled until I knew the bus had left. Then I began walking.
The rain started when I was about halfway home. As soon as the first fat drops splatted the sidewalk I knew it was going to be a downpour. I walked faster. And then when the sky ripped open, I started to run. It didn’t help; in less than a minute I was drenched.
A dark green car with its wipers going a mile a minute splashed up alongside the curb, and the passenger window slid down. The driver leaned across the seat. It was Marc Solomon.
“Get in,” he hollered over the rain. “I’ll give you a ride.”
chapter ten
Wonderful! Here was a grade twelve guy—the student council president no less!—offering me a ride in his car, and I looked like I’d just gone over Niagara Falls without the barrel! If it had been possible, I would’ve slithered down the storm drain along with the rain.
With as much dignity as I could manage, I smiled wetly and shook my head. “Thanks, but I really don’t mind walking.”
“Don’t be silly,” he said. “It’s pouring.”
I squinted up at the rain. “Well, I couldn’t get much wetter, and I don’t want to wreck your car.”
He pushed open the door. “It’s just water. Come on. Get in.”
I was all out of arguments, so I slid into the seat beside him. Actually, sopping wet jeans don’t really slide. Basically I just plopped onto the seat and then seesawed from one butt cheek to the other until I was far enough inside to shut the door. Very glamorous. Then I proceeded to drip all over the leather upholstery. In a matter of seconds, I was sitting in a puddle.
“How come you’re out in the rain?” he asked as he steered the car back into traffic.
“I missed my bus.”
He nodded. “So where’s home?”
“Right here. I’ve always lived in—” I could feel my cheeks turning red. “Oh,” I winced. “Oh. Oh, you mean what street do I live on!” I threw my hands up over my face. “Oh, gawd. I’m such an idiot!”
Marc laughed. “No, you’re not. But I do need to know where to drop you off.”
“The nearest bridge would be good,” I muttered through my hands.
He laughed again. “That’s pretty funny. You’re definitely the queen of one-liners. I don’t think many people know that.”
I pulled my hands away from my face and looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Well, around school, you’re pretty quiet. You don’t let people see your goofy side.”
I have to admit I was a bit confused. Until that moment, I had never spoken to Marc Solomon in my life. So how did he know I had a goofy side? “I guess I’m sort of a stay-in-the-background kind of a person,” I said.
“Not online you’re not, Roxane.”
My head snapped up so fast it hurt. “What did you call me?”
“Roxane.
That is your chat room name, isn’t it?”
I frowned. “Yeah, but how do you...I don’t under—” And then I felt my eyes bulging out of my head. “Are you saying you’re...”
He nodded and his mouth split into a huge grin. “Cyrano’s the name and chat room’s my game.”
“Oh, my gawd!” I gasped. “You’re Cyrano?”
He nodded again.
Could this be true? Was my secret admirer Marc Solomon? “But you can’t be,” I said. “You’re...you’re...you’re the student council president.”
He started to laugh again. “Even the student council president has to have a chat room nickname.” Then he pulled the car over to the side of the road and his expression turned serious. “You realize that I’ve just broken all the rules by telling you my online identity.”
I nodded.
He sighed. “The truth is I’ve been arguing with myself about telling you ever since the basketball game. I was sitting right behind you on the bleachers, so I saw you with your lucky Wellington tiger. You mentioned it in the chat room.” He shrugged.
“That’s how I knew you were Roxane. Considering the great chats we’ve had online, it didn’t seem fair that I knew who you were, but you didn’t know who I was.”
I nodded again, and then my heart did a total somersault as he leaned toward me and looked right into my eyes.
“But it’s got to be our secret. Okay? If word got out, I’d lose all my credibility with the student body—and the teachers.”
“I won’t tell a soul,” I said solemnly. “I swear.”
“Good.” His smile was back. “Now tell me where you live so I can drive you home.”
The rest of the ride was a beautiful blur, but much too short, and I found myself wishing I lived farther from the school.
As Marc pulled into my driveway, he said, “So are you coming to the dance?”
I patted my schoolbag and smiled shyly. “I have the ticket right here.”
“Great,” he said. “Then I’ll see you tonight.”
I told my parents I was going to the mall. It was a lie, but it was easier than saying I was going to the dance. Considering I’d never been to a dance, my mother would have flipped into “twitter” mode.
She would have wanted to know who I was going with, who was going to be there, what I was going to wear, how I was going to do my hair, etc., etc. And then when I got home she’d be waiting at the door for a play-by-play of the evening. I was not ready for that.
My stomach was doing gymnastics when the bus pulled up beside the school. The rain had stopped, but there were still pond-sized puddles all over the place. As I started across the parking lot I stepped right into the middle of one.
Instantly muddy water flooded my shoe and splashed onto my pants. It was enough to make me want to jump back onto the bus and go home. But the image of Marc Solomon waiting inside kept me from bolting, and I continued squishing my way toward the school.
With each step I became more and more nervous. Why was I putting myself through this? I was no good in crowds, and that’s what dances were. Besides, I wasn’t a great dancer. And who went to a dance alone, anyway?
You won’t be alone, I reminded myself. Once I got inside Marc would be there, and then everything would be great. I felt inside my pocket for my ticket and kept walking.
The music had been loud in the parking lot, but once I stepped through the front door of the school, it was deafening.
My heart started to race, and I immediately began scanning the hallway for Marc. There were clumps of kids everywhere. I searched each group for his face. But he wasn’t there.
Thinking he must already be inside, I started toward the gym. The guy and girl manning the ticket table were laughing with the kids waiting to go inside. While the girl took their tickets, the guy stamped their hands.
I fell into line and peered into the blackness of the gym. Marc had said he’d meet me at the entrance at eight o’clock. I looked at my watch. It was three minutes past.
What if he didn’t show up? What if he forgot about me? He was the student council president. He probably had all kinds of jobs to do at the dance. Even if he did show up, he couldn’t spend every minute with me.
My stomach started to churn. Then what? I didn’t belong to any group, and I couldn’t just start talking to people. Was I supposed to stand in a corner all night?
“Do you have a ticket?” a voice broke into my thoughts.
“Pardon?” I looked down at the girl at the table. How had I gotten to the front of the line so fast?
“Do you have a ticket?” she repeated patiently and nodded toward the gym. “For the dance?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do.” Feeling flustered and stupid, I reached into my pocket, and as I slid the ticket across the table, I looked into the gym again. There was still no sign of Marc.
And that’s when I knew there wasn’t going to be. The happy little fog I’d been walking around in suddenly evaporated.
I felt like I was seeing clearly for the first time in weeks. A grade twelve guy wasn’t going to be interested in a teeny-bop grade niner like me. This was all just a joke, and the laugh was on me.
The guy was ready to stamp my hand, but I pulled it away.
“If you leave the dance you have to have a stamp to get back in,” he said.
I shook my head. “That’s okay. I...I’m not going in. I’ve changed my mind.”
The expression on the girl’s face clearly said she thought I was a nutcase. Maybe I was. But at that point I didn’t care. I just wanted to get out of there before I embarrassed myself even more.
I ran for the exit and leaned into the door just as someone on the other side yanked it open. Unable to stop myself, I flew into the night, straight toward the pavement.
chapter eleven
I gritted my teeth and prepared to fall on my face.
But it didn’t happen. Somewhere between lunge and splat, somebody grabbed onto me and broke my fall. I still did a crazy spinout, but I managed to stay on my feet.
“Are you okay?” the person holding me up asked. It was Chad Sharp.
Sorting out my arms and legs, I shrugged sheepishly. “Aside from feeling like a complete fool, yeah, I’m fine.”
“Sorry about that,” he mumbled. “I didn’t see you on the other side of the door.”
I shrugged again. “It’s not your fault. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”
“Where are you going?” Chad said and then quickly added, “If you don’t mind me asking. The dance isn’t over yet, is it?”
It was a pathetic attempt at humor, but all I said was, “It is for me.”
“But it’s only eight o’clock.”
I sighed and started walking toward the parking lot. “It’s a long story—and not very interesting. But thanks for saving me from the sidewalk.”
“Wait. Do you have a ride? Do you want me to walk with you?”
“Don’t be silly,” I shooed him away. “I’ll just grab the next bus. Go to the dance. I’m perfectly fine.” And then I stepped into my second puddle of the night. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” I hollered, stomping my foot in frustration. The water sprayed up like a fountain. Now I was wet all the way up to my knees.
“You’re upset,” Chad said.
I whirled on him. “Ya think?”
He pulled back. “I don’t just mean about the puddle. You were upset before you left the school.”
“Of course I was upset!” I blurted. “I just got stood up!”
Wonderful! Now I was sharing my life’s story with a guy I hardly knew. “Sorry,” I apologized. “I shouldn’t be taking my troubles out on you. Good night.” And I continued across the parking lot.
But Chad didn’t get the message. He stuck to my side like a devoted dog. I started walking faster. He sped up too. Finally he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to a stop.
“Excuse me?” I scowled at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
H
e dropped his hand. “You didn’t.”
I had no idea what he was talking about. “I didn’t what?”
“You didn’t get stood up. Tonight, at the dance, you didn’t get stood up.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right. And you would know this how?”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Because I’m your date and I’m right here.”
Now I was completely baffled. “You aren’t making any sense.”
“I’m your date. I’m the one who sent you the ticket for the dance.”
I stopped walking. How did Chad know about that? Slowly I shook my head. “No, you’re not. You couldn’t be.”
“And the chocolates, and the poem, and the rose too,” he said. “All from me.”
Something between disbelief and horror wedged itself behind my ribs, making it hard to breath. “No. No, you’re lying. You’re not Cyrano.”
“I never said I was.”
“But it was Cyrano who sent me all those things. He even signed them!”
“I signed them. With a C—for Chad. I know you thought they were from Cyrano. I could tell from the messages you posted in the chat rooms. But they were from me.”
“I don’t believe you.” The truth was I didn’t want to believe him. I wanted Cyrano—Mark—to be my secret admirer.
“I can recite the poem if you like.”
“No!” I knew every line of that poem by heart, and Chad was not the person I imagined saying it.
How could this be happening? Suddenly my world was upside down.
“Don’t be mad,” he said. “I’ve liked you for a long time. Even before I knew you were Roxane.”
I gasped. “How do you know about that?”
“The tiger at the basketball game. You told everyone in the chat room you’d be carrying it.”
That was true, but I’d only wanted Cyrano to pick up on the hint. “You’ve been spying on me! You’ve been eavesdropping on my conversations with Cyrano.”
He made a face. “No, I haven’t. We were in a chat room! I had every right to read what you wrote. I don’t understand why you’re upset. You liked the things I gave you. You said so. I thought you liked me too.”
Chat Room Page 4
