by Nancy Allan
For the first time, I could see his shortened tail and although he was thin, he seemed in reasonable shape.
My grandmother was cooing at Crossbow and grinning at me as if I had just given her a second life. “Where’d you find him?” she asked.
Thinking I needed a shower, I said, “Under the back porch, and by the smell of it, I think he was there the whole time.”
“Well, I wonder who put him there!”
So did I, but I didn't tell her that.
She looked down at her cat and cooed, “Poor Crossbow. I think I need to get you to the vet.”
I nodded in agreement and headed up for a shower. Neither Deputy Shirley Mason nor anyone in our family had learned who had hurt poor Crossbow and robbed him of half his tail. Whether it was meant to be some kind of warning or a hate message, was up for debate. Regardless, it sent spikes of terror down my spine every time I thought about it.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
The handset was ringing when I stepped out of the shower. I threw a towel around myself and picked up. Celeste’s voice, soft but urgent, was on the other end. “Go online quick,” she instructed. I stepped into my bedroom and lifted the lid of my Mac. The last page I’d looked at was there along with an elongated, distorted image of myself. I wanted to slam the lid closed, but Celeste said, “Go to www.PROJECTNOBULLYING.COM"
My fingers raced over the keyboard and up flew a page titled, ‘PROJECT NO BULLYING’. In a row down the left side of the page were photos and across from each was a typed caption.
The first and largest photo was none other than Mako with his name in caps beneath it. The caption read: MAKO ZELTER, Age 18, Senior, Mount Olympic High. He bragged about stoning a girl less than half his size. He used his truck to run a car off the road and down and embankment. Four teens were inside.
He arranged for two of those girls to be beaten. If you have further information on this deranged individual, please post in the box below.
I drew in my breath. Celeste heard me. “See him? See what it says?”
I nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see me. My eyes traveled down the page. Next was a school photo of Rand and caption: RAND RILEY, Age 17, Junior, Mount Olympic High. He punched and kicked a girl a fraction of his size. His father is a Trooper, nickname of BULL. No charges laid for this assault. If you have further information on this disturbed individual, please post in the box below, so he can be held accountable for his actions.
“They got Rand too,” I muttered half to myself as I continued down the page. There were school photos of many of the Tarantulas, including Mako’s buddy, Crip. The caption read: CRIP aka CRIPSON VESTING, Age 18, Senior, Mount Olympic High. Arrested for assault on two young females. No charges laid. Anyone having further information please post in the box below.
What shocked me even more, was seeing Lisa’s photo. Caption: LISA McDOWELL, Age 17, Junior, Mount Olympic High, Contributor to the webpage, Peekaboo, Lisa has been seen sliding her cell under washroom stalls and snapping photos that she posts on Peekaboo (thus the name). Anyone having further information please post in the box below.
“See?” Celeste said. “Scroll down to the bottom of the page to the last photo. You’ll recognize the name.”
I did and stopped. It was a large headshot of a dark haired teen with black-rimmed glasses. He looked vaguely familiar. Beside his photo was the caption: MORRIS LOCKBRIGHT, better known as ‘MOLE’, Age 18, Senior, Seattle Tristar Academy, previous school, Mount Olympic High. Author of numerous crime-based websites, this sick sucker posts doctored photos of his victims and horrific remarks that could brand this site as HATE literature.
I stared at Mole’s photo trying to understand why Justin’s best friend would do these things. “Mole. I don't get it.”
Celeste said, “Justin found out Mole was the author of all the horrible websites that have been targeting you. He told Mole to take them all down and when that didn’t happen, Justin came up with the idea of fighting fire with fire. He says when you want to get somebody where it really hurts, you have to give them back what they give out. It’s the only thing they understand.”
I thought about that. “He might be right,” I agreed. “This is going to hit like a bomb.”
“Better believe it. Justin had a friend make up the www.PROJECTNOBULLYING.COM site so creeps like Mako, Rand, Crip, Raptor, Lisa, Mole, and others could be exposed for what they are and what they do. The rest of us can post comments and add our own photos of these whack jobs. We can also identify others.”
“Wow. I’m blown away,” I said, still in shock. I hit a couple of tabs on my screen. The hate sites were still live. “Why would Mole make sites like this? And why did he target me? I don’t even know him.”
“He’s just another bully who gets dirty in a different way. PROJECTNOBULLYING.COM has only been live a couple hours and it has over a thousand hits already. Tara’s cousin is featuring it on tonight’s King newscast. It’s going to go viral, Ashla. Just wait.”
It went viral all right. It was all over the net in no time. Nothing like it had ever been done before. I wondered how all these bullies liked being exposed for what they had done and for all the world to see—including their families, friends, future employers, and so on.
The next afternoon Brenna called me between classes. “Hi Asha, how’s it going? Guess, what? It’s all over Huntley. Justin’s webpage, I mean. Imagine?” Her voice vibrated with excitement.
I wanted to hear about it. “How’s it going over? What is the overall reaction to it?” I asked.
“There’s a lot of talk about it. Nothing negative, if that’s what you’re wondering. Tara’s cousin did a real good job of putting it out there on last night’s news. Did you see it?”
“Watched it with my parents. Celeste told me it was going to be on. I noticed that they never mentioned Justin or who was authoring the site.”
“Probably just as well. Look, I have to go. I’m late for the next class. Talk later, okay?”
The next call was from Celeste, an hour later. “Hey, Ashla, want to meet me tonight for a latte?”
“Thought we weren’t supposed to go out anywhere together?” I tried hard not to sound snide.
“I know, but this is important. How about Bucks at seven?”
“Sure,” I agreed wondering what was so important that Celeste would go against her parents, not something she did lightly. Was it about their move, I wondered?
Dinner was almost normal. My parents talked without worrying about Grandma. Anika had given up whispering, and in fact, was trying to talk over Mom. My grandmother ate all of her meal, smiling to herself between bites, Crossbow snoozing on her lap. Dad seemed to have put on a bit of weight, his face had color, and his eyes were lively once again. He saw me looking at him and winked. “Results get better every time,” he reassured me. That was a huge relief. It seemed I was the last injured party in our family and I wondered if my problems would ever diminish, if Justin’s site would change anything, and if there was hope for any kind of normal life, free of constant fear.
When we were finished, I cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher, and ran upstairs to brush my hair and grab my hoodie. It was threatening to rain and it looked like I had to walk to Bucks, as Celeste hadn’t offered a ride in her new car, which ended up being an older Cavalier.
I had walked two blocks when I saw it parked along the curb. She lowered the passenger window as I approached. Celeste had been waiting for me. “Jump in,” she said. “Forgot to mention that I’d wait for you down the road. Didn’t want my parents to see me picking you up.”
I didn’t comment and we drove in silence. I could tell by her demeanor than something was up. She sat perfectly erect, tension visible in the way she gripped the wheel. She parked the car and waited for me to get out. “You go on ahead,” she said reaching into the glove box, “I just have to find something.”
Thinking that a little strange, I walked into Bucks and joined the line to order our lattes.
>
Then, I saw him.
He was sitting at a small table fiddling with a stir stick. My breath caught in my throat and my legs turned to pulp. He looked up and our eyes met. I saw surprise first, then acceptance, and finally excitement. He stood up and walked over to me.
“Hey, let me buy you a coffee.”
I tried to find my voice. “That’s okay,” I heard myself say.
He moved ahead of me and ordered a latte the way I liked it, nonfat, no foam, etcetera. Then he maneuvered me over to the pickup counter. I remembered Celeste and looked around for her. Not seeing her, I glanced out through the glass windows to where she had parked. The Cavalier was gone. “Where did Celeste go?” I asked.
Justin looked around as well. “Looks like she set us up,” he surmised. “A little underhanded for a pastor’s daughter, don’t you think?” he asked with a grin, his handsome face looking down at me.
“She’ll be in deep with her dad, if he finds out,” I added, keeping our conversation light.
“Come on.” He picked up my latte and guided me back to his table. We sat down and I felt suddenly tongue-tied. His hand slid across the surface and touched mine, sending my heart leaping into my throat.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I owe you an apology for how I acted at the pool that last time. I was an idiot, and believe me, I’ve paid for it ever since. Haven’t been able to get you out of my thoughts,” he hesitated, “or my dreams. I think about you all the time, Ashla.”
Wow. I could hardly believe he was saying these things.
“Tried to think of how I could make it up to you,” he continued. “Celeste gave me a rundown on your life since our meeting on Blackcomb, and it sounds like you’ve been living through sheer hell. Not just at school, but the attacks, the car accident, everything.”
I nodded, but words weren’t forthcoming.
“Anyway, I guess Celeste has been keeping you up to date on what my mom has put into play at the school…”
I nodded again and realized I must look pretty dumb. His hand never left mine and I swear I wanted it to stay there forever.
“Ashla?”
I re-focused and looked into those gorgeous turquoise eyes. Wow, bad idea. My brain shut down completely.
“Ashla, are you okay?”
I nodded.
“Did you hear what I said?” he asked gently. “Have you seen the PROJECT NO BULLYING site?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “Never seen anything like it. What gave you the idea?”
He shrugged. “I started to notice years ago that bullies can’t take what they dish out. It’s their biggest weakness and they actually advertise that weakness with what they do.”
I pulled my hair back off my face. “I never thought of that.”
“That fact laid the groundwork for the PROJECT NO BULLYING concept. I was looking for the glue to put it all together when I found out Mole was the one building those hate sites against you. That was when it all came together and I knew what I had to do.” He paused. His hand squeezed mine. “These people need to be exposed. PROJECT NO BULLYING is a good medium for that.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. “Speaking of which,” he brought up a search engine. “Here, type in a couple of the website that were targeting you.” He passed me his phone.
I took it with my right hand and leaving my left under his, I pecked away until the first and worst one came up. But instead of the site complete with my photos and rude remarks, I got a generic page inviting surfers to shop at a new online store.
“Try another one,” he coaxed.
I did with a similar result.
Justin reached for my other hand. “Mole finally removed them all.”
I was overcome with relief. Those sites had almost been my undoing. I couldn’t imagine what kind of person would do something as vile as that. “Mole was your best friend, Justin. Why did he do it?”
“Long story, but he has a mean streak. It’s always been there. I overlooked it. Thought he was a good friend and refused to see that part of him.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “How did you get him to take down his sites?”
“Another long story, but PROJECT NO BULLYING played a part in it. He was ripped up about his photo being on that site. Like I said, if you ever want to get to someone, it’s usually by doing to them what they do so readily to others.”
I smiled sadly. That was becoming a truism. “Celeste wouldn’t like to hear that.”
“No, but it had to be done.” He stood up, still holding onto my hand. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”
He let go of my hand and put his arm around me, guiding me out the front door. “Want to go down by the lake?”
Those words had a dreamlike quality. I wanted to be held—to be told everything would be right in my world again. I wanted to be . . . kissed. I wanted to escape myself and feel something wonderful . . . and to have this special guy, Justin Ledger, tell me that he —what? Liked me? Thought about me as often as I did him?
“Ashla?”
“Hmmn?”
“The lake?”
“Sure.”
He held open the passenger door of his truck and I stepped in and waited for him to get behind the wheel. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized he was walking unaided. “Hey! No crutches. No cane. No nothing!” I was ecstatic.
He grinned. “Thought you’d never notice.”
“I’m so glad, Justin.”
He started the truck and reached once more for my hand. “Yeah, me too. It’s been a long time coming, but thanks to you, I made it.”
“You did all the work.”
“So did you,” he said turning to me. “You inspired me more than you’ll ever know.” Instead of starting the truck, he reached across and put his hand under my chin, lifting my face to his. “You’re a very special person, Ashla. There is no one like you. I see you in my dreams, you’re on my mind, and you are in my thoughts all the time," he paused and then he said . . . "I don't want to be with anyone else, Ashla. Just you.”
My voice turned to a whisper. "Me too."
His expression was intense. Then, I felt his strong arms pull me close. I closed my eyes and felt his lips on mine. At that moment, I was sure that I had left this world.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
I had spent most of the night in la-la land re-living my dreamy evening with Justin. When I awoke at dawn, I had a serious case of foreboding. The last time this happened to me, I had learned my Grandfather had passed away, so awakening with that deep, disruptive, rawness inside left me fighting off a whole new sense of dread.
I tried to reason it away by reassuring myself that everything was fine with my dad. His numbers had diminished and he was now officially in remission. All was okay with mom, my little sister, and yes, even my grandmother, so it couldn’t have anything to do with my family. What then? Who?
I wrote my finals, as arranged, at Skagit High, about twenty miles away. Dad drove me, offering reassurance all the way there. I guess he sensed my unease. “You’ve got a ton of brain power, Carrots. Don’t sweat it. You’ll do great.”
During the exams, I struggled to keep the debilitating emotion at bay. It had morphed into a state of fear by the time I was getting ready to go to the pool for what I knew would be my last swim practice with the team. Not a single team member, aside from my three closest friends, had accepted me again. I had long ago resigned as team captain. Today I would resign as a team member. I felt deeply saddened about leaving. The treatment I had received by my teammates hurt terribly. I had always thought them better than that. I had given them credit for their spunk, fortitude, and drive. I had thrived on our past camaraderie, but failed to see the shallow nature of each one. I no longer belonged.
My true friends, Celeste, Tara, and Brenna tried to talk me out of leaving as we walked into the building.
“Come on, Ashla,” Brenna begged, pulling a yellow rose out of her hair and whipping her thick curls into a knot on top of h
er head. “We need you,” she said with the stem between her teeth. “and besides, it won’t be the same without you.”
Tara added, “No kidding. We’ll lose for sure. You’re going to leave a hole in the water, Ashla.”
It was Celeste who nailed it. “If you quit, I quit.”
Jeez. I looked at my friends. “We’re friends no matter what, right?”
They nodded.
“So, swimming is just a sport we share. We can share something else instead.”
Tara screwed up her nose. “Such as?”
I shrugged. “You know what I mean. We’ll figure it out. Come on. If we don’t hurry up and change, there won’t be one last swim together.”
Little did I know that those words were to echo in my mind for years to come.
Afterward, we changed and I said a hollow goodbye to the team as we left the locker room. Tara was towel drying her hair as we walked out into the late afternoon, so she came out last, tagging behind Brenna who was checking her cell for messages. Celeste and I led the way, deep in conversation about our upcoming moves. Both of our families’ houses were now on the market and our parents were making plans to move to places unknown. “Dad won’t go far from our church, but he’s willing to commute,” Celeste told me.
“Looks like we may end up down near Portland,” I said. “Dad had a job interview down there this week and is excited at the prospect of relocating.” I glanced at Celeste. “I really don’t want to think about it. Our being separated is going to be rough.”
“We’ll work it out, Ashla, don’t worry.”
As the four of us strolled across the parking lot toward the Cavalier, I heard the gut-wrenching shriek of rubber on asphalt. The sound tore at my eardrums, and I jerked around to look.
Coming at us from behind, accelerating crazily, engine roaring, was an old pickup truck. There was a shriek from behind me and I felt a powerful push. I flew into Celeste, knocking her to the ground, as I hit the asphalt.