by Josi Kilpack
“Whatever,” Jess said, narrowing her eyes. “I knew you’d never let me go. I told her all you cared about was rules and that it didn’t matter to you one bit that I’d be the only loser not there. Ya know, I do have a life, Mom, and you’re doing a really good job of ruining it!” She turned and stalked down the stairs. Her door slammed several seconds later, causing Kate to jump.
“What was that?” Brad asked, coming out of the bedroom, tying his tie.
“Nothing,” Kate said, going back to the dishes and feeling horrible about what had just happened. Yet she didn’t want to bring Brad into it. She was embarrassed at how she’d handled it and didn’t feel up to taking on his judgment. “Jess is being moody.”
“That’s not like Jess,” Brad said, as if this were the most dramatic thing that had ever happened in the Thompson household. He really was out of it around here.
“She’s fifteen,” Kate said, reminding herself that this kind of thing was normal teenage pushing-the-boundaries stuff. “Now and then it comes out.”
“Well, is she okay?” Brad continued as Chris started crying in his room. Kate let out a groan. She’d hoped after last night that he would sleep in today. Thank you, Jess. Kate looked up at Brad, shifting from feeling bad about Jess to being angry about last night. Anger was easier. “If you’re so worried about her, then go check on her yourself. Chances are I can’t be objective enough to make the right decisions anyway.”
“Nice, Kate,” Brad said, giving her a disappointed look and turning back to the bedroom while she turned toward Chris’s room. Between last night and this morning she’d never felt so unappreciated and dismissed. He really had no idea what she did for this family, did he? The good news was that unless a train drove through their living room, the day couldn’t get much worse.
14
——Original Message——
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Friday, April 21, 7:47 AM
Subject: Re: dance
Em,
I should have listened to you. I asked my mom about the dance and she totally shut me down. She wouldn’t even listen to me and told me flat out that she didn’t care how I felt. I mean, you’re right that she’s always way more into the little kids than me, but she’s never told me to my face she doesn’t care about me. She tried to apologize when I came back upstairs but like she always tells me, you can’t undo everything. I just wish she cared about me a little bit. The dance is going to be soooo great, and I don’t get to go.
I came to school early and I’m on the library computer—I don’t dare try and send e-mail during computer class anymore. Anyway, I hope you have a better day than mine has started out being. Colt must think I’m the loser I really am cause he hasn’t written me yet. Oh well, he probably saw my picture on my bored. I’m not surprised. I really think Britney is trying hard to be a good friend, but I can see what you mean. It’s hard for me to trust her like I used to, but . . . yeah.
Laters, Jess
Monique stared at the ceiling, too worked up and excited to sleep. After she had left Karl several messages, he had finally showed up last night to check out the funny document on the computer. She’d had time to feel like an idiot by then, but it only took Karl a few minutes of clicking the mouse and typing in commands to figure out that her first impression had been right. It was a program of some kind. Monique called the detective who had headed up Terrezza’s case more than four months ago. He came over that morning and Monique called in sick to work. Together Detective Simmons and Karl had gone over the information with a fine-toothed comb. Not only was the document instructions for loading a program, but it was an instant messaging program, and some of the conversations had been saved in other documents titled research and notes. The detective only read a couple of the saved messages before taking the computer to the station and letting them know he’d call them on Monday.
Harrison had been working. When he came home, Monique told him everything. His expression hadn’t changed, and he’d said nothing. It made her uncomfortable that she understood why he reacted that way. Hope was hard.
Karl hadn’t understood though. He’d stormed out of the house, not giving Monique a chance to thank him for all he’d done. To Karl, his father’s reaction was one more piece of evidence proving that Harrison didn’t care. But Monique knew that in her husband’s mind it was just common sense not to get too excited. To get excited meant he had to risk something, and he didn’t have anything left that he could afford to lose. Both of them had dwindled to merely existing these last few months. If this came to nothing, after getting her hopes up, she had little doubt that she would break in two.
They’d gotten ready for bed in silence—that ice between them still fragile and untrusting. But she couldn’t sleep. She was still too worked up. What if they found her? What if Terrezza actually came home? Perhaps she’d been tricked by this computer person—brainwashed. Certainly her experience would have been horrible. Monique couldn’t think too long about that. Instead, she focused on a vision she’d created in her mind of seeing Terrezza step out of a police car after they found her. The joy of that moment would be absolutely incredible, and all this worry and stress would become insignificant.
She felt Harrison shudder in his sleep, reminding her that she needed to rest as well. Rolling onto her side, she turned her back toward her husband and closed her eyes. He shook again. She paused, then slowly turned to face his back. A sob escaped his barreled chest. She laid a hand on his shoulder, unsure what to do with his emotion. Her touch seemed to unleash his demons, and he began crying without reserve. It tore down the last of her own emotional defenses. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She clung to his back until he rolled over and wrapped his big arms around her. They both gave in then, crying like scared children, huddled together in the dark. What would Monday bring? Where would it lead them?
15
——Original Message——
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Saturday, April 22, 9:07 AM
Subject: yr mom
Jess,
yr mom isn’t just lame, jess, she’s mean. how horrible for her to not even discuss the dance with u. yr like the dream daughter in every way. first making u go to gymnastics, and now this? it’s horrible. that’s sad and im so sorry. u deserve so much better than that. make sure u never tell her about me—she’d probably ground u from the computer for the rest of yr life if she knew u had someone who cares about u as much as i do.
i haven’t heard from colt yet but i’m sure he’ll write u back. u and colt will get along great. u have so much in common. do u IM—cause i have a great program i can send u that can be hidden on yr computer so yr mom would never know—i think she’s the type that would freak out. let me know if u want it. the fact is that the only way yr ever going to have any freedom is if u find it yrself. yr mom doesn’t understand what it’s like to be a teenager—u have to experience life, not live in fear of it.
Emily
At thirty, he realized he was destined to live his life alone. The same descriptions he’d endured in high school still followed him—weird, stupid, strange. Even if grown women didn’t say it out loud, he knew that’s what they thought of him. But with computers helping them get to know one another, he realized girls actually liked him. All kinds of girls—young, beautiful, so full of life. He’d never felt so good about himself, so powerful and secure, as he did when he discovered his first chat room. After so many years of loneliness, he was able to find the girl of his dreams—over and over again.
At first all he wanted to do was talk. But the confidence was intoxicating and soon he wanted to be more important than anything else in her life.
He loved them—he loved all of them—but after Terrezza he realized that it took a special kind of girl to love him back. It still hurt that Terrezza wasn’t the one. But he recognized his mistake. She was too heads
trong, too aggressive—that’s why he’d looked for a different kind of girl this time. Sweet, innocent, trusting. He couldn’t afford to be wrong again.
He opened one of his e-mail programs and scowled. No messages. Janeece hadn’t written to him in over a week, and the last two e-mails he’d sent to Roxi had bounced back. He took a breath, calming himself, and reminding himself to be patient. He knew that was the only way this would work. Patience was everything, and he wouldn’t end up like one of those guys caught by Dateline. He was smarter than that. There were three girls still e-mailing consistently—all from separate accounts so he didn’t mix up the details of their lives. They were getting more comfortable with him, sharing more, getting closer. That’s what he wanted.
But it was time to step things up now that each of them was anxious to find out who Colt was. Just the way he’d planned it.
16
——Original Message——
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Saturday, April 22, 2:05 PM
Subject: check out these boreds
Jess,
check out these boreds. they are awesome. i wish i had a boyfriend, don’t u? i wonder sometimes if i’m missing the very best part of being a teenager—being in love. I know u have yr religious ideas, and i really respect that, but sometimes don’t u just want to . . . i don’t know—be special to someone?
colt called me and said he’ll be writing u soon—he’s still getting settled and their computer isn’t hooked up yet. he’s excited to get those get to know u questions. Speaking of boyfriends . . . u two are like made for each other!!
so do u want that IM program? colt and i use it all the time and it’s so nice to chat back and forth.
Em
“She said no?” Britney said, hanging the dress on the door of her closet so Jess could see the whole thing. She’d gone shopping that morning and called Jess as soon as she got back.
“I told you she would,” Jess said, looking at the dress with more envy than she could have ever imagined. She wanted to cry, and yet pretended she didn’t care. She’d been excited when Britney invited her over, but now she wished she’d stayed home. It had been such a lousy week already, and then Mom cut her off from going to the dance—the one thing that could have made things better. She felt like she had a giant L printed on her forehead. Britney got everything she wanted, and Jess never did.
“Maybe my mom could talk to her,” Britney said.
Jess shrugged and flopped back on the bed, mostly so she didn’t have to look at the dress anymore. “I doubt it will help. My mom loves rules, and this is a rule. You better just hope she doesn’t talk to your mom.” Britney came to sit on the edge of the bed and Jess looked up at her. “She might convince your mom of her evil ways.”
Britney laughed and Jess smiled. It was nice to make Britney laugh.
“My mom sucks,” Jess said, surprised at her own anger, but not really feeling bad about it. Emily agreed that Mom was unfair. She’d even said she was mean, which was hard for Jess to think about—oblivious seemed like a better term—but it did seem mean that Mom didn’t care how Jess felt about anything. Almost as if Mom didn’t even like her.
“Now come on,” Britney said, standing up and going back to the dress as if it were a magnet. Jess propped herself up on one elbow, looked at the dress again, and felt the jealousy come back full force. The dress was turquoise, with a fitted bodice, thick cap sleeves, and a sheer shawl that wrapped around the shoulders and tied in the back, like a jacket. Britney would look like Miss Teen USA in it. “Your mom’s not that bad,” Britney continued. “I really think she just needs more time to think about it.”
Jess was instantly annoyed by the comment. Was Emily the only person in her life who cared about how other people treated her? “Oh, well, thanks for being so understanding,” she muttered, drawing Xs over the flowers on Britney’s bedspread with her finger.
“What? Your mom’s way nice,” Britney said, looking at Jess again. “Remember that time she did our hair all fancy and put on makeup and served us our own tea party? That was so fun.”
“That was like four years and two kids ago,” Jess reminded her, her mood getting darker by the minute. “She’s become a lot less cool since then. Trust me.”
“Well, what about your dad?” Britney suggested. “Maybe he would let you go.”
Jess opened her mouth to say he wouldn’t, but then reconsidered. Dad, she thought to herself. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
17
——Original Message——
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Saturday, April 22, 9:17 PM
Subject: Parents! Who needs em!!!!
Emily,
I’m baby-sitting tonight and the kids finally went to bed. The Hutches have a way nice computer—it’s awesome!
There is really no reason for me NOT to do that IM program you were talking about. You’re right that I have no freedom unless I find it myself. Did I tell you we got the times for my gymnastics performance this week? As if not going to the dance weren’t bad enough. I’m going to look like such an idiot—talk about feeling like garbage. I’m so glad I have you to talk to about this stuff—it seems like I can’t talk to anyone else anymore. Even though Britney tries to understand, she just doesn’t quite get it.
I did get to look at those boreds—holy cow! I can’t believe what some kids will take pictures of themselves doing. I would never do that stuff and yet my mom won’t trust me to go to a dance with a bunch of friends. I would like to have a boyfriend, but it’s not going to happen. No guys like me, but I’m really excited to get to know Colt. He sounds really cool. But he hasn’t e-mailed me so he probably thinks I’m a total loser. Sorry. I’ll play around with the IM and let you know how it goes.
Britney’s dress is so hot I could barely look at it! She’s so lucky. I wish I had her mom.
Jess
Brad tried to enjoy the basketball game Saturday night, but the tension in the house made him uncomfortable. Yesterday, he’d called and made an appointment with Dr. Lyon for next Thursday. He had a very strong feeling that Kate was warping what the doctor had said to fit her own agenda. Yet he felt horrible for doubting her.
The more he’d thought about their situation, the clearer it became in his mind. Yes, the health concerns were huge, but he also felt more and more of a desire to move on from this stage of life. Kate had been pregnant or breastfeeding for most of the last thirteen years—Chris had only been weaned six months ago. In a couple years they would have no diapers, no more nap schedules. They could take family vacations and he and Kate could go on regular date nights instead of random celebrations of birthdays and anniversaries. Heck, they had their own built-in baby-sitter with Jess, but Kate was anxious about leaving the little ones with her for very long or at night. He really wished he’d made it to Kate’s appointment with Dr. Lyon. Whatever it was that had kept him from going didn’t seem half as important now, and he wanted to kick himself for not making it happen.
One week from today he would fly to Houston for his conference. He hadn’t been looking forward to this trip, but now he wondered if the timing would be a good thing. He’d talk to the doctor on Thursday, then have a few days to process what he’d learned and come up with a game plan. Even if Dr. Lyon confirmed that Kate was exaggerating what he said, it wouldn’t be easy to resolve things with Kate. They were both seeing it from opposite sides of the equation—could they find a middle ground? He groaned. Everything was so complicated.
After several minutes, Jess came downstairs and sat with him. She’d been at Britney’s most of the day, and then she went baby-sitting for a family in the ward. As the oldest of six, she was a baby-sitter in high demand. He put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. Some of his fondest memories were snuggling with her on the couch when she was a little girl. They’d watch movies toge
ther, and she’d squeal when he tried to rub his “scratchy face” against her cheek. He missed those days and wondered when life had become too busy for him to connect with his children. Then again, back then they had only Jess. Nowadays it was a rare occurrence for him to have alone time with any of the kids, and he knew he needed to work on changing that.
“Dad?” Jess said after a minute or so, and a sweet layup by Johnson. That man could move.
“Yeah, Jess,” he said, though his eyes were on the game. Denver stole the ball and he gritted his teeth; the Jazz should have expected that.
“I know how important it is that I don’t date till I’m sixteen, but can I please go to the dance? It’s just a big group, and everyone else is going.”
Brad furrowed his eyebrows and looked at his daughter. “What dance?”
Jess looked up at him. “Mom didn’t tell you about it?”