by Alex van Tol
He nods and bumps my shoulder. “Good luck.”
He and Ryan drift ahead, bobbing along with the mass of students making its way to the gym.
Good luck?
Suddenly I’m nervous. The Oracle isn’t going to come up in the assembly, is it?
I find a seat at the edge of the center row of bleachers. I’m used to the stares by now. I’m surprised, however, when a few people pat me on the shoulder as they make their way up toward the higher rows.
I spot Kamryn sitting in a different set of bleachers. She’s surrounded by a tight group of whispering girls. Her eyes are small and mean. I look away before they find me.
Ms. Parhar waits at the front of the gym until everyone has arrived. When the shuffling subsides, she moves behind the podium and clears her throat. Her bracelets make ringing noises as she reaches for the mic.
“LaMontagne, thank you for your presence today,” she starts. She runs through major announcements, and then the grade reps make theirs. Sports meet information. Spring fair. Then the dance team wraps it up with an awesome performance. They’ve put some sort of freak hip-hop king inside the mascot’s costume today. The team does a great job, but Lucky the mascot steals the show. Jaws drop to see the pudgy panda popping and locking his way through Snoop Dogg. By the end of the performance, LaMontagne’s student body is on its feet, cheering and clapping. The cheers turn to wild whoops when Lucky takes his head off to reveal tiny grade-ten student Lo Ming—a total nobody. She’s panting, and her wet hair is stuck to her head. I imagine she’s beat after five minutes of breaking inside fifteen pounds of polyester.
“Thanks to the dance team for that performance,” says Ms. Parhar once the excitement has died down and everyone has found their seats again. “I’ve never seen our hundred-and-eight-year-old mascot move in quite such a way.” Laughter ripples through the crowd and people glance in Lo Ming’s direction. She bobs her head once in acknowledgment. One of the dance team pats her back.
She’s not going to be a nobody anymore.
That’s the funny thing. All it takes is one notable deed, and everlasting notoriety is yours.
Whether you want it or not.
“The final item on today’s agenda concerns an issue that has been brought to my attention by one of LaMontagne’s middle-school students,” says Ms. Parhar. “It involves enough of the student body that the staff felt it was appropriate to address at an assembly.” As she speaks, the gym falls quiet. The usual foot-shuffling and whispering slows until it stops entirely.
I feel eyes on me. Dozens.
Maybe hundreds.
Is this about me?
I don’t dare look toward the principal. I lock my eyes on the head of the person in front of me. I wait for her skull to start smoking.
“A blog has been brought to our attention. It appears that this website is attempting to mislead others in the area of personal relationships.”
My stomach drops.
This is about the Oracle.
Chapter Thirteen
A rush of whispers breaks out as people speculate about who squealed.
“These are very serious charges,” says Ms. Parhar. “The word fraud has been suggested.”
The whispers swell to shocked murmurs.
My head suddenly feels too light. There’s a squeezing sensation at the back of my brain. Fraud? That’s punishable by time in jail. Surely I haven’t done anything so bad?
Hannah’s words come back to me. You could get in big trouble if this ever gets out, Owen.
“Without getting overly involved in an issue we as a staff know little about,” Ms. Parhar continues, “we thought it would be best to invite the Oracle’s administrator, Owen Roberts, to address these charges against him. And then we’ll open the floor to other LaMontagne students. Owen?” Ms. Parhar scans the audience.
Somehow my legs stand me up. All around me, people are talking. No one is bothering to whisper. I’m glad. It’s much easier to walk for twenty seconds through a hubbub than through pin-drop silence when everyone’s eyes are on you.
I feel like I’m not even inside my body as I walk toward the front of the gym. I just kind of float there.
No one knows who ratted. Except for me.
And Hannah can probably guess.
I search her out among the grade eights. Our eyes meet, but then she looks away. I shouldn’t be surprised.
I built this fire. And I’m going to burn alone.
My eyes travel back to Kamryn. She’s sitting straight-backed on the bench with her arms folded tightly across her chest. A sour little smile plays across her face.
And then I’m standing beside Ms. Parhar. She steps to the side so I can stand behind the microphone. Everyone watches me, and it’s quiet again. They expect something.
I swallow.
I’m glad I made a pit stop in the john just before break.
I lean into the mic and say exactly that, because I can’t think of anything else.
The whole school erupts into laughter, and I feel myself relax. A lot of people are smiling. I pull my courage from them and start.
“I don’t really have a lot to say,” I say.
“That’s a first!” someone calls. More laughter.
I smile. “I’ll just tell you the truth. This is already as embarrassing as it could possibly get anyway. I started the Oracle for my own purposes,” I say. “I wanted to, uh, I wanted to show someone I liked them.” I clear my throat. “And I guess I was too shy to tell her in person, so I set up a blog to trick her into liking me.”
Someone sets up a wolf whistle, and a few laughs drift toward me.
“Anyway, that plan backfired,” I say. “I embarrassed her and hurt her feelings, and I feel really bad about that.”
A group of grade-six girls sets up a little chorus of “awwwwww,” and everyone laughs again.
I look over at Kamryn. I’m sure she’ll want to kill me for identifying her, but I’m willing to take the risk. She’s already called me out. I don’t have anything else to lose.
“I’m sorry,” I say to her. “I really am. It was a dumb thing to do.”
Faces turn in Kamryn’s direction. She stares stonily ahead, ignoring them. I’m sure this isn’t what she had in mind.
“And I’m sorry to everyone else,” I say. “Because I guess I tricked you too. Into thinking that the Oracle was a trustworthy site for advice.” I drop my eyes to the floor. It’s too hard to look into people’s faces when I’m admitting what a mess I’ve made.
The murmurs start up again.
“Wait.” A voice rises above all the others. “I want to say something.” I look up to see Hannah picking her way down her row.
Ms. Parhar leans back toward the mic to introduce the next speaker. “Hannah Cho, president of our middle-school student council, would like to have a few words.”
Hannah jumps down from the stairs and walks briskly across the gym floor to stand beside me. She reaches up and pulls the mic off the stand. She’s used to talking to a gym full of people.
“I’ve watched the Oracle grow from the start,” Hannah says. “And I know for a fact that Owen took every question seriously. He worked hard to figure out the best answer for each person who wrote in.”
I stare. This was the last thing I expected from Hannah.
“He stayed up late a lot of times so he could finish answering questions. He used more than one source when he put together his answers. He did an amazing job.” She takes a deep breath. “And if you’re wondering how I know all this… it’s because I helped him.”
Okay, correction. This was the last thing I expected from Hannah.
Gasps and chatter erupt from the group. Hannah Cho? Involved in a hoax?
“And this thing about it being fraud is ridiculous,” she says, fixing Kamryn with a glare. “I mean, yes, Owen put himself out there as the Oracle, but he also wrote a disclaimer on the About page.” She turns to Ms. Parhar. “It says very clearly that all of the Oracle’
s predictions are for entertainment purposes only.” She looks back at the student body. “And besides, I think the Oracle did a lot more to help people than it did to hurt them. The Oracle—or should I say, Owen—has done more than just tell people how to be in love. What about Always Angry? And Deeply Depressed? What about Losing Hope?”
People are nodding. Some students look around, craning their necks to see whether anyone might suddenly give away their identity as one of those writers. But nobody does.
I think of Losing Hope. I wonder if she’s okay.
“The Oracle took those students’ concerns seriously, didn’t he?” Hannah continues.
More murmurs. Nods.
Hannah looks around. “The Oracle did so much more than just give people good pickup lines.”
This gets a few chuckles.
Jon throws me a thumbs-up, and I grin. Rubber Duckie, indeed.
“It’s run by a guy who has proven that he can be trusted. Think about it, people. Owen Roberts is in possession of some of the biggest secrets among this school’s population. But has he betrayed your trust on any of them?” Hannah has a way of speaking in public that’s very much like a politician.
Several shouts. “No!”
“Has the Oracle ever led you astray?”
“NO!” More voices that time.
“Can you trust the Oracle? I ask you, can you place your trust in Owen Roberts?” As she speaks, Hannah extends her arm in my direction. She’s whipping the crowd into a frenzy.
“YES!” Clapping. A whistle.
“I just want to add one more thing,” Hannah says when the noise dies down. “I know for a fact that a number of relationships have gotten started because of the Oracle’s advice.”
Someone whistles again. Down near the front, a grade-eleven guy hoots and grabs the hand of the girl sitting next to him. He raises it into the air triumphantly. She blushes and smiles and tries to pull her hand away.
“See?” Hannah says. She crosses the stage and extends her other arm toward me. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she says. “I give you…Owen Roberts, LaMontagne’s very own Oracle!”
I laugh and shake my head as the applause starts.
Soon the whole gym is filled with the sound of applause. I look to the side and see the teachers—dozens of teachers—clapping or nodding or smiling.
And then.
I can hardly believe my eyes.
In ones and twos, people start to stand. They’re still clapping, and they’re smiling. They look at me and look around at each other and cheer. A deep thrumming rises from the bleachers, and it takes me a few seconds to realize that people are stomping too.
While the ovation is still going strong—except for Kamryn and her friends, who are pretty much the only people left sitting in the whole gym—Hannah gives a brief bow.
Then she turns and gives me a smile that makes my stomach flip right over.
She puts the microphone back on its stand, nods to Ms. Parhar and returns to her seat.
The principal waits for the noise to die away. “Thank you, Hannah. Well spoken, as always.” She turns to me. “When the complaint was initially lodged against the Oracle, Owen,” she says, “I did take the time to read many of the questions and answers on the website. And I have to say, I was impressed with the quality of advice the Oracle was providing.”
I acknowledge her words with a nod.
Man, dailyhoroscope.com really saved my butt.
“Given the positive reaction we have witnessed today,” Ms. Parhar continues, nodding her head toward the bleachers, “it seems you have earned the general approval of your peers.” She looks toward the teachers. “And I, for one, have no intention of asking you to stop.”
More applause.
I lean on the lectern and speak into the mic. “Thanks, Ms. Parhar,” I say. “Thank you, too, Hannah. And thanks to everyone else.” A few people whistle.
“One last thing, Owen,” says the principal. “Since you’re the only one who can predict the future, I’m going to ask you the question that’s on everyone’s mind right now.” She looks around at the crowd, then back at me. “Are you going to continue with the Oracle?”
I close my eyes as though I’m meditating. I raise my hands and press my palms against my temples for dramatic effect. There are a few snickers, then the gym grows quiet waiting for my response.
“As I see it,” I begin, and then I open my eyes, “I’m gonna start charging a hundred bucks a pop!”
The gym erupts into laughter.
I look for Hannah.
She’s smiling.
Acknowledgments
My thanks, as always, to the wonderful people at Orca Book Publishers. You are an excellent team to work with. Special thanks to editor Melanie Jeffs for her suggestions and guidance in smoothing Oracle’s rough edges.
Alex Van Tol taught middle school for eight years, then made the switch to writing for a living. She has published numerous titles with Orca Book Publishers. Oracle is her first Orca Currents novel. Alex lives in Victoria, British Columbia, with her two sons, who are still too little to figure out how to start and maintain fraudulent blogs.
Titles in the Series
orca currents
* * *
121 Express
Monique Polak
Agent Angus
K.L. Denman
Bear Market
Michele Martin Bossley
Benched
Cristy Watson
Beyond Repair
Lois Peterson
The Big Dip
Melanie Jackson
Bio-pirate
Michele Martin Bossley
Blob
Frieda Wishinsky
Branded
Eric Walters
Camp Wild
Pam Withers
Chat Room
Kristin Butcher
Cheat
Kristin Butcher
Cracked
Michele Martin Bossley
Crossbow
Dayle Campbell Gaetz
Daredevil Club
Pam Withers
Disconnect
Lois Peterson
Dog Walker
Karen Spafford-Fitz
Explore
Christy Goerzen
Farmed Out
Christy Goerzen
Fast Slide
Melanie Jackson
Finding Elmo
Monique Polak
Flower Power
Ann Walsh
Fraud Squad
Michele Martin Bossley
High Wire
Melanie Jackson
Hold the Pickles
Vicki Grant
Horse Power
Ann Walsh
Hypnotized
Don Trembath
In a Flash
Eric Walters
Junkyard Dog
Monique Polak
Laggan Lard Butts
Eric Walters
Living Rough
Cristy Watson
Manga Touch
Jacqueline Pearce
Marked
Norah McClintock
Maxed Out
Daphne Greer
Mirror Image
K.L. Denman
Nine Doors
Vicki Grant
Oracle
Alex Van Tol
Out of Season
Kari Jones
Perfect Revenge
K.L. Denman
Pigboy
Vicki Grant
Power Chord
Ted Staunton
Pyro
Monique Polak
Queen of the Toilet Bowl
Frieda Wishinsky
Rebel’s Tag
K.L. Denman
Reckless
Lesley Choyce
See No Evil
Diane Young
Sewer Rats
Sigmund Brouwer
The Shade
K.L. Denman
Skate Freak
Lesley Choyce
Slick
Sara Cassidy
The Snowball Effect
Deb Loughead
Special Edward
Eric Walters
Splat!
Eric Walters
Spoiled Rotten
Dayle Campbell Gaetz
Storm Tide
Kari Jones
Struck
Deb Loughead
Stuff We All Get
K.L. Denman
Sudden Impact
Lesley Choyce
Swiped
Michele Martin Bossley
Watch Me
Norah McClintock
Windfall
Sara Cassidy
Wired
Sigmund Brouwer
orca currents
For more information on all the books
in the Orca Currents series, please visit
www.orcabook.com
