Identity Crisis

by Melissa Schorr

  Oh. It slowly dawns on me. That’s exactly what I did. It only took me, um, forever, to get it. I did do something to her. Or, took something from her.

  Cooper.

  I feel a small pang of sympathy, but then push it away. This time, it’s definitely not my fault. Cooper’s been pursuing me. Cooper isn’t her boyfriend. Cooper is free to invite whomever he wants to the concert. I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve got nothing to feel bad about.

  I head outside toward the bus line, where my luck finally turns: I see Amos and Eva standing together by the curb. He seems to pull away, but then Eva is grabbing his hand, hard, smiling up at him, like there is nothing wrong. And then she is shoving her tongue down his throat, and the two of them are sucking face like there’s no tomorrow.

  I can’t believe my eyes.

  I watch them squeeze hands, walking toward their buses before they part. I know that somehow, some way, my plan has completely failed. But how? What went wrong? I had been perfectly clear about what happened when I was chatting with Eva last night. Didn’t she read a word I wrote?

  Or, maybe it’s not Eva, a little voice in my head says.

  But if “DecOlan” is not Eva, then who? I know one thing for certain: I’m not letting this day end without getting an answer.

  Chapter 28

  NOELLE & ANNALISE

  DecOlan: why did you lie to me?

  KnuckLise99: why did you lie to me?

  Chapter 29

  ANNALISE

  KnuckLise99: i know you’re not really Declan O’Keefe.

  KnuckLise99: or his cousin Eva Winters.

  KnuckLise99: SO WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?

  All I want now is to know.

  For the first time since I found out “DecOlan” was a fake, I feel strong. Ready to fight back. To find out the truth. Last year, I didn’t have the courage to stand up to Eva. I just fled. Out of fear. Or shame. But sometimes, when your life hits rock bottom, when there’s nothing left to lose, it’s possible to be braver than you ever imagined.

  KnuckLise99: TELL ME WHO YOU ARE.

  Is this someone I know? Don’t know? Male? Female? Some crazy Internet stalker? Another frenemy? Who?

  Crazy thoughts start swirling through my mind, as everyone in my life comes under suspicion. Could it be Cooper? Romancing me online, playing the devoted fan to counteract all his real life Brass Knuckles insults? Or Amos, secretly still harboring some crush on me after all this time, that he needed to keep secret in the real world? Or even Maeve, concocting this faux romance, as some inane way to revive my faith in the male species? Dredging up a picture of her old camp friend, never thinking I’d actually drag her to Worcester to meet him? And what about the real Declan? Was he in on it from the start?

  It could be any of them. It could be all of them. I know I sound insane. But there’s only one way to find out.

  KnuckLise99: WHO ARE YOU? AND WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?

  Chapter 30

  NOELLE

  She knows. She knows.

  She knows I am not Declan. My whole universe tips off its axis and I grip the sides of my chair for dear life.

  How did she finally figure it out? Did someone tip her off? Eva? The real Declan? Or was it me? Did I give it away, make one too many mistakes?

  Doesn’t matter.

  My fury at Annalise fades away, as the truth suddenly becomes clear. All of it.

  That story she told me about Amos hitting on her wasn’t a lie. It was a test. A test, carefully designed to figure out whether or not it was Eva behind the dirty trick. Amos was telling the truth. He wasn’t trying to hit on her. He was innocent.

  Annalise wasn’t “betraying” Declan when she accepted Cooper’s invitation to the concert. She already knew her online boyfriend was a total sham.

  That I’m a total sham.

  My lungs clench up like I’m in front of the classroom again, only a hundred times worse. It’s all on me. I am the one who is scheming and deceptive, not her. I don’t deserve her friendship. I don’t deserve Cooper. I don’t deserve anyone.

  Hot tears run down my face and I start typing in a stream of consciousness.

  DecOlan: i’m sorry.

  DecOlan: i’m so so sorry.

  KnuckLise99: WHO ARE YOU???

  DecOlan: i never meant

  DecOlan: i didn’t think

  DecOlan: i didn’t know

  KnuckLise99: WHO ARE YOU??? THAT’S ALL I NEED TO KNOW.

  DecOlan: just let me explain.

  KnuckLise99: WHO ARE YOU??? WHO ARE YOU??? WHO ARE YOU???

  I am trembling in fear, even though she has no way to see me, touch me, shake me. I can’t tell her who I really am. The minute I tell her, she’ll be out of here. Gone. That’s the only leverage I have to keep her talking. To make her understand.

  DecOlan: i’m someone who wishes i could take it all back.

  No reply. Then.

  KnuckLise99: why?

  Why did we do it? I have no good explanation. The reason no longer seems to exist, if it ever did.

  DecOlan: it was over something stupid. it doesn’t matter.

  Pause.

  KnuckLise99: no.

  KnuckLise99: why do you wish you could take it all back?

  DecOlan: you know why.

  Another pause.

  KnuckLise99: i don’t know anything.

  KnuckLise99: i thought i did.

  KnuckLise99: i trusted you.

  KnuckLise99: i told you things.

  KnuckLise99: everything.

  DecOlan: i know.

  KnuckLise99: it was all a joke to you.

  DecOlan: it was never that.

  DecOlan: it was unspeakable.

  DecOlan: unforgivable.

  DecOlan: indefensible.

  DecOlan: but never a joke.

  KnuckLise99: do i know you? do you know me? who are you?

  DecOlan: who i am was a lie

  DecOlan: but what i said was true.

  DecOlan: what we had

  DecOlan: that much was real.

  KnuckLise99: no. you lied.

  KnuckLise99: all along.

  KnuckLise99: why should I believe you?

  KnuckLise99: you won’t even tell me who you are. you owe me that much.

  DecOlan: i’ll tell you.

  DecOlan: i will.

  DecOlan: just promise.

  DecOlan: after i do.

  DecOlan: you’ll listen.

  DecOlan: not leave.

  I see that she is typing something, then erasing it. Then typing, then erasing. My heart dangles in midair. Then it falls when I read her reply.

  KnuckLise99: don’t bother.

  KnuckLise99: i won’t believe you.

  KnuckLise99: you could say you’re anyone.

  KnuckLise99: play me some more.

  KnuckLise99: more lies.

  KnuckLise99: I’m done.

  She’s right. Why should she trust me?

  DecOlan: wait. please.

  DecOlan: you’re right.

  DecOlan: i’m sorry.

  DecOlan: you have every right to hate me.

  DecOlan: just let me come to you.

  DecOlan: explain in person.

  DecOlan: face-to-face.

  KnuckLise99: NO WAY.

  KnuckLise99: r u kidding?

  KnuckLise99: to my house?

  KnuckLise99: you could be anyone.

  KnuckLise99: a psycho.

  KnuckLise99: some lunatic.

  DecOlan: somewhere public?

  DecOlan: somewhere safe.

  DecOlan: tomorrow.

  DecOlan: at the concert.

  DecOlan: meet me at Will Call.

  KnuckLise99: no way.

  KnuckLise99: why should i?

  KnuckLise99: why would i?

  DecOlan: let me make it right.

  DecOlan: please.

  DecOlan: give me that chance.

  DecOlan: let me show you what we had meant something

  D
ecOlan: i don’t deserve that much but you do.

  DecOlan: i promise i’ll make it up to you.

  I wait for her reply. I know it’s a long shot, but if I can just convince her to meet me, maybe I can make this right. Maybe, just maybe, I won’t have to lose her. Because if I finally know my one true desire, I also know Annalise’s: to meet Viggo Witts.

  And I can give that to her. But only if she’ll agree to come.

  I stare at the screen, willing her to answer yes.

  I wait and wait and wait and wait. An eternity tumbles by. Then finally, I see she is writing her response.

  KnuckLise99: i’ll see you there.

  My heart collapses in relief. She will. She will meet me. I reach out to thank her, to promise her this time, I will keep my word. Then all of a sudden, up pops an error message I’ve never seen before. Something’s not right. I don’t need someone from the Genius Bar to tell me something is very, very wrong. I hit refresh and this time, am bounced back to the homepage.

  “No!” I pound the keyboard in frustration.

  I attempt to log in as Declan half a dozen times, frantically, pushing shift, caps lock, number lock, and anything else I can think to try to get back to Annalise, to confirm that I will see her there. But each time, I only get this response:

  User Name Unknown.

  Password Incorrect.

  Please Try Again.

  Chapter 31

  ANNALISE

  Meet him? Is he insane? And he thinks he can make this up to me? Part of me wants to tell this so-called “DecOlan” that there’s no way I’m meeting him anywhere, ever. But halfway through our conversation, the truth hit me: I’ll never believe what I read on my screen. What if this is my only chance to find out who he actually is? The only way to know for sure is face-to-face. My fingers race across the keyboard.

  KnuckLise99: i’ll see you there.

  Silently, I finish the sentence to myself: But you won’t see me.

  But before he can reply, our entire conversation suddenly disappears. I scroll up but it is gone. All of it. I click over to Declan’s profile, but he is gone, too.

  Vanished. Into cyberspace.

  Weird. I sit there for a minute, refreshing the screen, trying to figure out what could have happened. Slowly, it dawns on me that maybe that’s my answer. Whoever “DecOlan” was has freaked out, bailed, gone rogue. That apology, that promise to make it up to me, all just a sham. Buying time to go delete the account. Why hadn’t I just kept demanding his name? Threatened to turn him in? Maybe he—or was it a she?—would have finally confessed. Now it was too late.

  The adrenaline from our online shouting match slowly drains from my system. Probably it was just some crazy troll. Some creepy forty-year-old pedophile, trying to lure me in. Maybe I’d dodged a bullet. Good thing I’d refused to have him come over here, to an empty house.

  Then, all of sudden, my phone rings. I look at it, startled. My caller ID reads: O’Keefe. Impossible. Freaky.

  “Hello?” I say warily. My throat is tight again. Breathless.

  A boy’s voice on the line. Familiar.

  “Annalise?”

  “Yeah?”

  “This is Declan. Declan O’Keefe?”

  His voice is high, nervous, as if he’s never called a girl on the phone before. “Maeve’s friend. From Worcester?”

  Oh. Him.

  “Hey.” My hopes come crashing down. Why is he calling me? After all, isn’t he supposed to be all into Maeve?

  “I’m sorry, but I thought you should know—I contacted tech support and reported that account fraudulent.”

  What the what?

  “You did what?” I nearly shout.

  “Yeah, sorry,” he says. “Look, I know you didn’t want me to tell my parents or Eva, and I didn’t, but I really hated the idea of someone impersonating me online. Freaks me out. I mean, identity fraud is a serious issue and I just wanted you to know, in case you were still getting messages from that impostor, that it’s over. I just got an e-mail from tech support. They’ve deleted the account.”

  I don’t know whether to be irritated or relieved. So it was the real Declan, not the fake one, that just cut the cord. That means whoever it was is forever lost to me now. No way to find out who they were, what they wanted to tell me, why they did what they did. Unless they really do show up at Will Call.

  I try to focus on what Declan is telling me: that online identity fraud is actually a misdemeanor in our state, and the site administrators would investigate who was behind it and he could even press charges, but since it’s his cousin, he’d rather not, if that was all right with me.

  “Actually,” I interrupt him, “I don’t think it’s Eva.”

  He sounds startled. “It’s not? Then who?”

  That’s what I’d like to know. “I don’t know. Wait.” I realize this might be a chance to find out the difference between the real Declan and “DecOlan.” I doubt anyone could just make up all that stuff on the spot—some of it was probably taken from the person’s own life story. Was any of it real?

  “Can I ask you some questions?”

  “Sure,” he says cautiously.

  “So, you’re Declan O’Keefe, and you really won the Worcester County Chess Tournament when you were eleven, right?”

  “Um, yeah. How’d you—”

  “And your dad Patrick is a software engineer.”

  “Correct.”

  I mentally scroll through all the other stories “DecOlan” had shared with me.

  “And you used to sing chorus and one time you got so nervous during a solo that you choked?”

  “Um, what?”

  “You used to do chorus?

  “Uh, no.”

  Bingo! Gotcha! So that might be something real. What else?

  “And did you ever push your mom and accidentally break her wrist?”

  “What? No! Of course not,” he says indignantly. “Why?”

  “I’m just trying to sort out the truth,” I tell him and explain what I’m doing.

  “Look, what that person did was crazy town. Who knows if anything they told you was fiction or fantasy? It’ll probably never make sense. I think you should just forget it. So does Maeve.”

  Maeve. So clearly, they’ve been in touch.

  “What did she say?” Had she told him we’d fought? Over him?

  “Nothing. I don’t know. You should talk to her,” he stammers. “She said you’re still going to that concert together, right?”

  “I’m not sure.” I realize I haven’t even told Maeve about Cooper’s invitation and my acceptance. “I actually may be going with someone else.”

  “Well, that’s too bad, she’s a great girl. She used to talk about you all the time, at camp, you know. My best friend, Annalise. The future Olympic gymnast.”

  “She did?”

  “Yeah. She said you used to put on shows for all the neighborhood kids.”

  It was true. I’d perform flips and back handsprings in our backyard for anyone Maeve could round up, acting as my coach, sports agent, and publicist all rolled into one. But that was pre-boobs, pre-boys, back when life was a whole lot less complicated. Sometimes, I wish the carousel of time would just stop and let me off.

  “I can’t believe you remember that,” I say, a little embarrassed.

  “Well, I guess I remember everything Maeve said.” He pauses, and coughs, and I can figure out the rest for myself: how he has been crushing on Maeve since forever but was all elbows and knees. “She never really noticed me,” he says quietly. “She was obsessed with Aiden Sylvester.”

  That was true. Every summer, it seemed, Maeve came home having gone one base further with Aiden.

  “Not anymore,” I inform him. “He hooked up with Faye Snowe the last night of camp.”

  “Really?”

  “Um, yeah.” Wow was this guy clueless. How could anyone go to Camp Chicawawa and not know this? Maeve and I had only dissected the cheating episode nightly for all of Labor
Day weekend.

  But his words remind me what a true friend Maeve has always been. Why had I stopped valuing her and turned to some online surrogate friendship? Because she was busy with volleyball? Because she had a life? She was still always there for me. Going to a concert she had no interest in seeing. Traveling to smelly old Worcester. Helping me concoct my crazy revenge scheme. And what had I done? Been judgy about her little sister’s dumb decision. Jealous that she was interested in a boy I had no legitimate claim on. Which, in a way, made me no different than Eva Winters. It’s like I was so scared of losing her, instead, I starting pushing her away first. Lately, I’ve been completely in my own head. Having an identity crisis. Obsessing over the band and their music and . . . hello!

  Something in my brain clicks. Why didn’t I think of it before? There is a way to help Samantha. And to make it up to Maeve.

  “Listen, Declan, I gotta go,” I say breathlessly, my mind tallying up what I will need. Some red lipstick. A mirror. My digital camera. Will it work? Will it be enough to make her forgive me? Maybe. But there’s one thing more I can do. “But it’s fine with me if you want to ask Maeve out.”

  “Sweet!” He cackles a weird laugh, and my resentment towards Maeve instantly dissolves. No, I definitely don’t want to keep Declan to myself. Besides, Cooper Franklin just might turn out to be more than meets the eye.

  “No, you two are made for each other,” I say firmly. “Plus, I’ve got the perfect first date in mind.”

  Chapter 32

  NOELLE

  I’ve called a Code Red, texting for Eva and Tori to meet me in the girls’ bathroom before first period so I can tell them in person what happened. This emergency can only be conveyed in real life. From here on out, we’re going off the grid. I’m paranoid that any more online communication could be tracked and used against us.

  “You guys. She knows.”

  “What? Who?” Tori asks, unable to resist stealing a glance at herself in the grimy mirror. “Who knows what?”

  But Eva understands exactly what I am talking about.