“I don’t even know you!”
“Yes, you do. I’m in your French class. We were at the gym riot together—and the basketball game too.”
“So was the whole school!”
“But I like you,” he said again, moving closer.
Suddenly I was scared. This was exactly what Janice had warned me about. This wasn’t my chat room fantasy world. This was real life. This was the school parking lot—very dark and very empty except for me and some lunatic who might attack at any second.
I started backing up. “You just think you like me,” I said as calmly as I could.
He shook his head and kept walking toward me.
“No. I really do. We’re the same—you and me—kind of on the outside of things. Loners. Of course, you have your friend, Janice, but I don’t really have anybody. Basically, that’s what gave me the idea for the chat room. I figured it would be a way to find out what other kids talk about.” He shrugged.
“I wanted to know if I was missing anything. Plus I wanted to see if I could actually create a chat room program.”
“Well, obviously you did.” I faked a smile but continued to back up.
And that’s when he lunged. He was much quicker than I expected, and before I could even think about running, he swallowed me in his arms and yanked me right off my feet. My own arms were pinned to my side, so the only thing I could do was scream.
But just as I opened my mouth, Chad spun around, plunked me on the ground again and let me go. I was so shocked my scream came out as a squeak.
“Puddle,” he said, nodding to where I’d just been standing. “You were about to step in it.”
At first I just stood there with my mouth hanging open. Then I started to laugh, and once I got going, I couldn’t stop. It was all so bizarre—Marc turning out to be Cyrano, me coming to the dance because I thought he’d given me the ticket, finding out Chad was my secret admirer, freaking out because I thought he was going to attack me. Then to top everything off, walking into puddles all night.
I sobered up when I realized Chad was staring at me like I had just beamed down from Mars.
I took a few deep breaths before attempting to talk. Then finally I said, “Sorry about that. I wasn’t laughing at you. Honest. It’s just that today’s been kind of intense. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I thought you were somebody else.”
He dropped his head and mumbled, “So you don’t like me.”
“Yes, I do,” I protested, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “Just not like that. And I bet you don’t like me that way either. To tell you the truth, I think we’ve both been living in a fantasy world. During the day I’m a self-conscious social wannabe and you’re a techno-geek—no offense. At night I’m a chat room floozy and you’re a cyber-stalker.”
His eyes practically popped out of his head. “I wasn’t stalking you!”
“What would you call it?” I snorted. “You kept your identity hidden, you eavesdropped on my chat room conversations, you followed me around and you sent me secret presents.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it again. After a couple of seconds his face softened into a bashful smile. And suddenly he looked kind of attractive—not hunk-handsome or anything, but really decent.
I realized that I’d never really looked at him before. Maybe there were a lot of things I’d never looked at before.
I smiled back.
“You know,” I began hesitantly, “maybe you and I just got off on the wrong foot.”
“What do you mean?”
“This whole chat room thing. Think about it. You can’t really find out what someone is like by what they say online, can you? You have to get to know them in person. For instance, you think you like me, but what do you really know about me besides that I am magnetically drawn to mud puddles?”
There was that bashful smile again.
Encouraged, I continued. “As for what I know about you—well, let’s see. You seem like a nice guy, but all I know for sure is that you’re a computer genius and a pretty good poet.”
Even in the dark I could see the color flooding Chad’s cheeks.
“And you blush when you’re embarrassed,” I added.
We both snickered.
“So what are you’re trying to say?” Chad asked.
I shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. “Do you want to start over?”
It was his turn to shrug. “Sure. Can I walk you to your bus?”
I nodded shyly. “Sure.”
chapter twelve
“What on earth happened to you?” my mother said.
I looked down at my soggy wrinkled pants. “A puddle,” I replied, shutting the front door.
“Don’t you mean lake?”
I shrugged. “It was kinda big.”
“It must’ve been. You better get those wet things off before you catch cold.” As I started down the hall, she called after me, “And phone Janice. It must be important, because she said to make sure you called no matter how late it was.”
As I peeled off my wet clothes, I considered ignoring my mother’s message. I was not in the mood to talk to Janice. The day had been crazy, and I needed time to sort it out.
But considering how I’d snapped at her after school when all she was trying to do was help me, the least she deserved was a phone call.
She must have been glued to the thing, because she picked up even before it finished ringing.
“Hi,” I said sheepishly.
“Hi.” She sounded just as uncomfortable. “I didn’t expect you to call so soon.” And then cautiously, “Didn’t you go to the dance?”
I heaved a huge sigh. “Yes, I went. But I didn’t stay.” And then I told her the whole story—except the part about Marc being Cyrano. I’d promised I wouldn’t mention that to anyone, and though I’d done a lot of dumb things recently, I was still capable of keeping my word.
“As you can see, you were right,” I said when there was nothing left to tell. “I should have listened to you. I didn’t get raped or murdered or anything, but if Chad had been a different kind of guy, I could have. So go ahead. Say I told you so. I’ve got it coming.”
“I told you so,” she said, but her voice was missing the gloating quality I was used to. “I’m also sorry.”
I almost dropped the phone. Never in my life had I expected those words to come out of Janice Beasley’s mouth.
“Sorry for what?”
“For being such a pill.”
“You were kinda mean, but considering I wasn’t listening, or thinking either for that matter, I can see why you were frustrated.”
“The truth is I was jealous,” Janice said, catching me completely by surprise. “When you started chatting online, you changed. All of a sudden you had this other life and you were happy.”
“But it wasn’t real,” I reminded her.
It was as if she hadn’t heard me. “Then when it looked like you had a boyfriend, I felt totally left out. I wanted what you had. When you said all that stuff this afternoon about me hating the world, it really hurt because it’s so not true.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Janice didn’t give me the chance.
“I know that’s not how it seems, but it’s the truth. Don’t you see? I know people don’t like me. So I act like I don’t like them first. That way it doesn’t hurt so bad when they reject me.”
I was completely stunned. Janice Beasley wanted friends? Impossible. She hated people. There was a long pause as I tried to get my head around what she’d said. It was such a huge confession that I couldn’t help thinking about her in a completely different way.
Finally I said, “I’m scared of being rejected too. I’m always afraid I’m going to embarrass myself and people are going to think I’m stupid. So I just kind of hide.” Then I started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“My technique seems to be working. Nobody knows I exist.”
But
Janice didn’t laugh.
There was another pause, and then I said, “Maybe we need to try something else.”
“Oh, yeah,” Janice snorted. “Like what?”
“Like just being ourselves. Think about it. We can’t do any worse than we’re doing right now.”
“I guess,“ Janice mumbled grudgingly.
“We just have to get out there and grab a life.”
“Who’s?” she muttered.
She hadn’t meant it as a joke, but it was funny, and I laughed.
Janice didn’t see the humor. “That’s fine for you,” she sulked, “but everybody hates me.”
“That’s because you don’t give them a chance to like you,” I pointed out gently. “When I was chatting online—instead of pulling back like I usually do—I let the real me come out. I didn’t worry about making a fool of myself, because I figured nobody would know it was me. The thing is I didn’t make a fool of myself. The other kids didn’t treat me like I was a loser. They seemed to like me just fine. If it could be like that in a chat room, then why not in real life too?”
“But I don’t know what to do!” Janice wailed. “How am I supposed to act? What am I supposed to say?”
I sighed. “I’m not sure. But I bet we can figure it out. Maybe we can start going to basketball games and stuff and join some clubs. And we can start talking to other kids instead of hiding from them.”
“Or yelling at them?”
Though Janice couldn’t see me, I grinned. “That too.” Then I did something without even thinking. “Hey, Janice,” I said, “there’s a new movie playing at Silver City. It started a couple of days ago. I’d really like to see it. What do you say we go together?”
New
Orca Currents Novel
Sewer Rats by Sigmund Brouwer
“The teachers can’t do nothing to us,” Lisa told him, crossing her arms. The paintball wars aren’t on school property.
“But—” Micky tried. It was like trying to stop a hurricane.
“Do you think I care what the teachers think?” Lisa asked. “They think we band together because no one else likes us. And we’re proud to agree with them, aren’t we?”
Micky shrugged. When people called us losers, it just made our group stronger.
“It’s the Medford gang I care about,” Lisa continued. “The Sewer Rats have never lost a paintball war and we’re not going to chicken out now.”
Laggan Lard Butts by Eric Walters
“That was the bravest thing I ever saw in my whole life,” Tanner said.
“Not that brave.”
“You’re like my hero,” Taylor agreed.
“Big deal. It doesn’t mean anything. Now we just get to spend more time trying to get people to vote for something that has no chance of winning.”
“No chance?” Tanner demanded.
“Yes, no chance.”
“I don’t believe my ears,” Taylor said. “Didn’t you listen to the announcements today? A quitter never wins and a Lard Butt never quits. Go, Lard Butts!”
Dog Walker by Karen Spafford-Fitz
“Just one question, Turk,” Mom says. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”
Mom must have read another parenting article. I can almost see the headline: Getting Your Teen to Open Up to You.
“Well, er...I wanted to get my business running before I said anything. And,” I put on my most innocent face, “I had this crazy idea you might think my business was something shady, stupid, or immoral.”
I can’t tell for sure, but I think Mom and Dad almost look ashamed.
Yes!
Kristin Butcher is scared of chat rooms. For Kristin, writing about things that make her anxious or uncomfortable helps her to confront her fears. Kristin is the best-selling author of a number of books for juveniles and teens, including three Orca Soundings, The Hemingway Tradition, The Trouble with Liberty and Zee’s Way. Kristin lives in Victoria, British Columbia.
Chat Room Page 5
