Who R U Really?

by Margo Kelly

  “Thea!” Tim reached for me, but I jerked away. I did not want to be touched. “Wait a second!”

  I slowed my pace just short of the bus stop and scanned the group. Josh wasn’t there yet.

  “I can’t do this today,” I said. “People will ask about Janie. What am I supposed to say? Josh will be a jerk for sure.”

  “He won’t be at school. So don’t even worry about him.”

  “Why?”

  “The wrestling team left this morning for a tournament on the other side of the state.”

  “Why are you not with them?”

  Tim turned away. I enclosed his bare red knuckles with my mitten-covered hand. He took my other hand and gripped them both.

  “Tryouts happened while I was in the guild with Kit,” Tim said. “I had joined Skadi to have something in common with you, but then Kit started saying stuff about girls online. I was scared for you. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t wrestle knowing this jerk was out there lying to you. I would die if anything happened to you. So, I talked to Janie about you and about Kit. You know the rest.”

  “No, I don’t. What are you not telling me?”

  “It would be such a disgrace, if I fell short and you were not safe.”

  “Don’t quote song lyrics to me,” I said. “Tell me the truth.”

  “It’s the truth, Thea. I’ve loved you since the fifth grade.” His cheeks reddened even more, and not from the cold morning. He lifted his hand and wiped a tear from my cheek. I didn’t even realize I was crying until then. I bit my lip, and his cold smooth fingers rested against my face.

  The bus grumbled to a halt at the stop. We waited for everyone else to board, and then I asked Tim to go before me. I still hated riding the bus, but lately, with Tim, it was bearable. He’d find us a seat, even if that meant he had to ask someone to move. But today the bus wasn’t crowded since so many people were gone for the wrestling tournament. Tim found us an empty seat in the middle.

  We sat in awkward silence for what seemed like an eternity, and then Tim set his hand palm up on his knee, an invitation. I pulled off my mitten and intertwined my fingers with his.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “We don’t need to talk about what I said at the bus stop. Let’s just worry about Janie and get through the day.”

  I nodded with relief but then asked, “How am I going to talk to her?”

  Tim handed me his cell phone. “I programmed the hospital’s number into speed-dial number one for you,” he said. “You can use my phone to call her anytime.”

  “What if her mom answers? She’ll recognize my voice.” Tim pressed the buttons on the phone and put it to his ear. He asked for Janie’s room. Then he asked someone for permission to speak to Janie. Tim mouthed the words, “her mom” to me. My lips pulled downward as I pictured Janie in the hospital room.

  “Hey, Janie,” Tim said, and I grabbed the phone from him.

  “Janie?” More silent tears spilled down my cheeks. “How are you?”

  “Alive,” she said, but her voice was faint. “Sorry—” Janie choked on the word.

  “What are you possibly sorry for?” I bent forward so the other kids wouldn’t see my tears. I used my knuckle to wipe them away, but more fell.

  “Everything,” Janie said.

  “I want to see you, but I guess your mom doesn’t want me to.”

  “It’s true.”

  I could tell she couldn’t say more. Her mom must be right there.

  “How long will they keep you in the hospital?”

  “Not sure, but then they’re sending me to a clinic for treatment. They say I’m anorexic.”

  “Are you?”

  “No. I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Will you be able to use your cell phone? I could use Tim’s phone to text you at lunch or something.”

  “I can’t use my cell in the hospital, but I might be able to in the clinic. I don’t know yet. My mom says I have to get off the phone now.”

  “I’ll try to call at lunch. Okay? Hang in there.”

  “Okay.” She disconnected, and I handed the phone back to Tim.

  “Keep it.”

  “I can’t. It’s your phone.”

  “Keep it. That way if you want to text or call Janie you can.”

  I was tempted. “No . . . but we can call her at lunch.” Tim pocketed the phone, and the bus pulled into the lot. We made our way to the cafeteria, and without talking we went through the line for breakfast. We sat at our usual table, and Tim broke the silence.

  “Did I damage our friendship this morning?”

  Surprised by his question, I hesitated before answering. After I set my food down, I said, “Not at all . . . I feel so stupid for all the dumb choices I’ve made over the last year.”

  “You’re not stupid. You were tricked.” He started to reach toward me, but stopped himself. “Sorry,” he said and shook his hand. “I forget that you don’t want me to touch you.”

  “Why do you always want to anyway?”

  His cheeks didn’t blush this time, and his eyes bore deep into mine. “If I can touch you . . . your hand, your shoulder, your back . . . I’m connected to you, and I know you’re all right.”

  “But I’m not.”

  “You will be.”

  The bell rang, and we reluctantly headed to our separate classes.

  ■

  Tim waited for me again before lunch. The sight of him leaning against the row of lockers relaxed my tense muscles.

  “Is this becoming a habit?” I asked him.

  “Easily,” he said through his warm grin. He moved out of the way so I could throw my books into my locker. He seemed to be surrounded by a renewed energy force—his own personal bubble—and when I stood close to him, it seemed as if gravity pulled me in even closer. I took a step back from my locker to shut the door and bumped into him. His hand went to my shoulder to steady me. Without a thought I looked up into his eyes.

  His smile faded, and we remained transfixed until he cleared his throat and took a step backward. He glanced down at the floor and then back up to me.

  “Let’s grab lunch and call Janie,” he said. I agreed, and we headed toward the cafeteria, side by side.

  We found an empty table near the wall, and Tim fished his cell out of his pocket. After he had Janie on the phone, he handed it to me.

  “They’re transferring me to the clinic this afternoon,” Janie said right away.

  “Already? Have you healed enough to be moved?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I just have to do what they tell me.”

  “I know the feeling,” I said. “Is your mom right there?”

  “No, so we can talk, but she could be back any second. How are you?”

  “I’m worried about you. I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

  “Oh, Thea. I don’t want to go to the clinic by myself.” Janie hiccupped, and her voice changed pitch. “I don’t want to do this alone.”

  “You can call me whenever you need me,” I said.

  “What if I can’t get a hold of you?” Her sobs became louder.

  I glanced at Tim. He listened while he ate his lunch, his eyes glued to me. I watched him as I spoke the next words to Janie.

  “Tim said I could keep his phone.” I waited for a reaction from Tim. He nodded confirming his previous offer. I mouthed a “thank you” to him and continued speaking to Janie, “So, you can call or text me any time you need to.”

  “Thanks. When I find out where they’re sending me, I’ll let you know.” I could hear Janie’s mom in the background.

  “Do you have to go?”

  “Yes. Bye,” Janie said and disconnected the call. I pushed the End button on Tim’s phone and handed it to him, but he shook his head and finished chewing a mouthful of food.

  “Keep it. You told Janie you would.”

  “What if your parents try to reach you on your phone?”

  “Answer it if you think it’s Janie, and ever
y time we’re together, I’ll check for messages. Easy.” Tim grinned. I slipped the phone into my pocket. We enjoyed the rest of our lunch with simple conversation about schoolwork, and then we went our separate directions.

  I headed for my locker to grab the textbook I needed for my next class, and as I approached, I noticed a square piece of paper on the door. I quickened my pace to see it more closely, but then stopped in my tracks when I realized someone had duct taped my August 10th quote to the front of my locker:

  Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get, only with what you are expecting to give, which is everything.—Katharine Hepburn

  Dread, like a thick black sludge, welled up inside of me. I scanned the hallway left and right to catch someone watching me, but the students all hurried to get to their next classes. No one paid any attention to me.

  I ripped the quote off my locker, crumpled it up into a tiny ball, and threw it along the hallway. One guy turned and glanced at me as the wad whizzed past him, but he said nothing and kept on moving. I opened my locker, expecting to find my pink scarf hanging inside, but it wasn’t there. I leaned my head forward and rested my shoulders against the metal frame. Who stuck the quote to my locker?

  The image of Coach Gavyn taping up the basketball stats during tryouts flashed into my mind. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but he’d used gray tape. It could have been duct tape. And the padded equipment he wore at the final self-defense class had been patched with duct tape. Could Coach Gavyn be Kitsuneshin? Had he been in my house? I gasped.

  Should I tell Officer Ford?

  No.

  There was no way it could be Coach Gavyn.

  Besides, everyone had access to duct tape. For all I knew Seth could have played a cruel joke on me. He was certainly angry enough to do it. But I still debated if I should tell anyone. What was the point? They’d all think I was crazy.

  I took a few deep breaths, hoping to get a grip on the situation. I convinced myself that Seth had taped the quote to my locker. He had access and opportunity. And I would not give him the pleasure of seeing me freak out. I simply wouldn’t acknowledge it at all. I firmed up my determination to remain strong. Besides, I still had another class to endure.

  I pulled Tim’s phone from my pants pocket and slipped it into the side compartment of my backpack, leaving it in my locker. I did not want to be caught with someone else’s cell in my possession. Not with Officer Ford constantly checking on me. I grabbed the textbook I needed and slammed the locker door.

  “Hey, Thea!”

  I dropped the book.

  Marcus stooped down and picked it up for me. Instead of thanking him, I hauled off and whacked him on the arm.

  He scrunched up his forehead. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you . . . I just wanted to see how you’re holding up.”

  “I’m fine.” I wanted to ask him how long he’d been standing there watching me, but I didn’t have the strength for much more today. I started down the hall toward my class, and Marcus trailed me.

  “Seth mentioned you were in trouble, and the police are involved.”

  I walked faster toward my class.

  “Anything I can do for you?” he asked.

  I twisted around and studied him. Maybe Seth had dared Marcus to tape that quote on my locker. Could Marcus be that cruel? “Why are you talking to me?”

  He didn’t flash his usual drop-dead-gorgeous smile. Instead, he pulled back as though I’d slapped his face.

  “Are you Kitsuneshin?” I asked.

  He said nothing and gawked at me.

  Surely, he would’ve told me if he was. My cheeks lit on fire. I had overreacted, again. Marcus was only trying to be nice to me.

  “Sorry,” I said and darted into my classroom before he could say or do anything.

  ■

  Later that evening, I sat in the family room finishing up my algebra homework when Dad walked past the front window. I hopped up and met him at the door. His hands were full carrying his briefcase and my computer.

  “Why do you have my stuff?” I asked. He set the heavy load on the coffee table, and Mom came into the room with a kitchen towel in her hands.

  “Did Detective Corbett have anything else to say?” she asked.

  “He wasn’t even there when I stopped in,” Dad said. Mom scrunched the towel.

  “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

  They slumped onto opposite couches. I sat with Mom and looked back and forth between them.

  “The police finished with your computer and your cell phone,” Dad said.

  “Does that mean I get them back now?”

  “No!” They said in unison.

  “When can I?”

  “Never, and stop asking or I’ll make it even longer than that,” Mom said. I couldn’t tell if she was joking or serious. Probably serious.

  “So, if the police gave the equipment back, does that mean they’ve arrested Derek?”

  “They’re not arresting him.” Mom threw the wadded up towel on the coffee table. “The Georgia police went to the address listed with his cell phone registration and no one lives there. The place was abandoned and falling apart.”

  “So where does he live?” I asked.

  Dad leaned forward. “The detective said they tried to back trace his computer’s IP address from Skadi, but he used something like the Tor network and Privoxy software, which hindered their investigation. They even tried to find him through his cell usage, but he must’ve used VoIP or some other Internet phone service to mask his location. They don’t know where he is. There was no forwarding address from his Georgia property. For all we know, he changed his name and left the state years ago.” Every fiber of my being froze. Where had Derek been during our hours of chatting online? During our phone calls? I knew the Georgia time difference by heart. Was it possible he’d never been there at all?

  “And besides all that,” Mom said, “the police say he hasn’t broken any laws. There’s not much more they can do to help us.”

  “What about fingerprinting that white chair?” I asked.

  “The detective said it wasn’t necessary,” Dad said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  Dad rubbed his jaw. “The police know what they’re doing.”

  “What about Red in Hawaii?” I asked.

  “The Hawaiian police department is still investigating her death.”

  “Did they confirm that the girl in the article was my friend Red from Skadi? Is she really dead?”

  “It appears so, but they haven’t been able to connect Derek to it.”

  “So, he didn’t have anything to do with Red’s death? Maybe he only lied about where he lives. Maybe he didn’t do anything wrong.” My heart rate increased, not because I hoped to renew anything with Derek, but because I hoped he had told me the truth, or even mostly the truth, all along. I hated the idea of him lying to me, and worse yet, I hated the idea of him hurting Red. I didn’t care what the detective said, she was my friend, even if I only knew her online.

  “No,” Dad said. “Derek lied to you, and I’m sure he was about to lure you away. Mom stopped it before any harm came to you, but because she did, they can’t arrest him.”

  “That’s freaking nuts.” I rose and stepped over Mom’s feet to leave the room.

  “Pick up your things, Thea,” she said. “The family room is not your closet.”

  I gathered my schoolwork. “Should I pick up my computer and cell phone, too?”

  “No.” Mom straightened and folded the towel on the table.

  I headed for my room, and once there, I pulled out Tim’s cell phone to see if Janie had tried to call or text. Nothing. When I returned the phone to the pocket of my backpack, I felt a piece of paper. I pulled it out and reread it.

  Truth, like a torch, the more it’s shook it shines.—William Hamilton

  I taped it to the wall where my August 10th quote used to hang.

  CHAPTER 26

 
Saturday. The December sunlight busted through the blinds on my window and forced me to wake up to another day in the hardest week of my life. So much had happened that it felt like months had passed, not merely days. The clock showed 9:30 A.M. and I couldn’t believe Mom let me sleep in, but before I could finish the thought, she knocked on the doorframe.

  “Tim wants to talk to you.” She waved the cordless phone and then brought it to me.

  Seriously?

  I couldn’t remember him ever calling me before. I scooted up in bed and took the phone. Mom sat at my desk. Apparently she intended to stay and listen to my side of the conversation. Great.

  “Hey,” I said in a scratchy morning voice.

  “You want to go to a movie today?” Tim asked. Absolutely. That would be a perfect distraction from this miserable day.

  I turned toward Mom. “Can I go to the movies?” Tim kept talking while I waited for a response from Mom; he was suggesting I tell her it was with a group, not just him.

  “No, I’m pretty sure you’re grounded,” Mom said.

  “Why?” I had never been grounded in my life.

  “Are you kidding me?” she asked. “You lied, and we’ve had multiple conversations with police this week.” Valid points. But I hated the idea of spending the entire day locked inside with uptight wardens.

  “How long am I grounded for?”

  “Forever.”

  “It’s all right,” Tim said. “Just tell her okay.” I did as he suggested, and he asked if she was still listening.

  “Yes,” I said to him while staring at Mom. She was relentless.

  “Would it be better if I called you on the cell phone?” he asked.