Want to Go Private?

by Sarah Darer Littman

  “You ready?” Ted inquires. He touches my arm lightly.

  I nod, although I’m anything but. I hear Ted say his line, but it’s as if it’s from down a very long hallway, with the sound of ocean waves crashing on either side.

  The next thing I know, I’m lying on the floor looking up at Ted’s worried face.

  “Don’t panic, people, I think she just fainted,” I hear Mr. Hankins say. He jumps up onto the stage and kneels down next to me, lifts my wrist, and starts taking my pulse. Faith and Grace run up the steps and sit on the floor near my head.

  “Are you okay, Abs?” Faith asks, stroking my hair. She looks totally freaked out.

  “Your pulse is low,” says Mr. Hankins. “Were you feeling dizzy?”

  I close my eyes and nod.

  He helps me sit up slowly, and makes me rest my head between my knees for a while before helping me to my feet. Faith and Grace rub my back. I just want to get off that stage, away from the spotlights, away from all the eyes watching me make a fool of myself.

  “How are you getting home?” Mr. Hankins asks.

  “My mom is coming,” Faith says. “In fact, she might even be here already.”

  “Can you help your friend with her stuff?” Mr. Hankins says.

  “Of course!” Faith says, putting her arm around my shoulders to support me. I feel like shaking it off. If it weren’t for Faith I wouldn’t have been here and this wouldn’t have happened.

  Grace picks up my backpack and together we walk down the aisle of the auditorium toward the front entrance of school. It’s the longest, most humiliating walk of my life.

  Why’d I even try out for this stupid play? Why did I let Faith talk me into it? Faith knows I’m a basket case when I have to speak in front of people. It’s like she didn’t even care. All she thinks about these days is being friends with Grace.

  “I was so scared when you passed out, Abs, I thought maybe you’d had a heart attack or something,” Faith says. “You got all pale and then your eyes rolled back and BAM!”

  “I bet you’ll have a nasty bump on your head,” Grace says. “You should probably put frozen peas on it when you get home.”

  “Frozen peas?” Faith says.

  “Yeah. My mom has a bag of frozen peas that we never eat — she just uses it as an ice pack for whenever someone hurts themselves, because the peas form around whatever hurts.”

  “Great. So I’ll be known as a pea-brained, fainting loser. That’s all I need,” I say.

  Faith hugs me. “Come on, Abs. You are not a loser. You just fainted, okay? It’s not the end of the world. It could have happened to anyone.”

  “Yeah, but it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to me.”

  “It doesn’t mean you still can’t be involved with the play,” Grace says. “You could still be on stage crew or do costumes or lighting.”

  “Right now, I don’t even want to think about the fricking play. I just want to go home.”

  Grace rolls her eyes and I want to punch her even more than I want to go home.

  “Well, lucky for you, Mom’s here,” Faith says, oblivious to my desire to inflict bodily harm on her buddy. “See you tomorrow, Gracie.”

  “Listen, Faith, don’t tell your mom I fainted, okay?” I tell her as her mom’s car pulls up to the curb.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want my parents to find out.”

  “But, Abby —”

  “Faith, please. PP?”

  After all, you were the one who got me into this mess in the first place.

  The unspoken words hang between us, as I discreetly hold out my pinkie.

  Faith hesitates, meeting my gaze with worried eyes, before linking her pinkie with mine.

  CHAPTER 4

  OCTOBER 4, EVENING

  “How were the auditions?” Mom asks at dinner. I was hoping she’d forgotten. No such luck.

  “Fine,” I lie.

  “What’s Abby auditioning for? The Freak Show?” Lily asks.

  “Lily, that’s not nice,” Mom says. “Your sister was auditioning for the school play.”

  “Abby? Have pigs started flying or something?”

  “Shut up, Lily!” I snap at her. Times like this you can really understand why Cain killed Abel. I bet you anything Abel was a complete pain in the butt like Lily.

  “Girls, that’s enough. I’m sick and tired of your constant bickering.”

  She looks at her watch. “I wonder where your father is. He said he’d be home by six thirty.”

  “Like he’s ever home on time,” I say. “I thought it was supposed to be better to work for yourself than for a big company.”

  Mom sighs. She looks tired. “It is in some ways. But it’s more stressful in others, especially with the economy being what it is. Daddy’s having to work out a lot of people’s financial messes, and that takes time.”

  The phone rings.

  “I’ll get it!” Lily is out of her seat before Mom and I even think of moving — her reflexes highly developed from years of training. If there were a phone-answering medal in the Olympics, she would be a shoo-in for the Gold.

  “Oh, hi, Dr. Wilson!” Lily says. “You want to talk to Mom? Okay, I’ll get her for you.”

  I feel my stomach turn over. Why would Faith’s dad be calling to speak to Mom?

  “Hi, Rudy, how are you? … What?” Mom turns and looks at me, concerned. “Goodness, no, she didn’t say anything about it. Told me it went fine … Yes, that does seem to be their answer to everything, doesn’t it? … Well, is there anything I should do? Do I need to make an appointment with her doctor?”

  Doctor? I feel a wave of fury. Faith must have spilled. I can’t believe she told.

  “Okay, Rudy, I’ll keep an eye on her. Thanks for calling. Give my love to Elaine. Bye.”

  Mom hangs up, sits back down at the table, and gives me a stern look.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you fainted at rehearsal? I am your mother, as of the last time I checked. So why am I hearing this from Dr. Wilson?”

  “Abby fainted?” Lily says. “Omigod, what a dork!”

  My brain is a swirling mess of anger and confusion.

  “I’m fine, Mom,” I snap. “Stop making such a big deal of it.”

  “I’m not making a big deal, Abby. But if my daughter passes out in school, it’s not unreasonable of me to expect to hear about it from her, not through the grapevine…. Are you even listening to me?”

  I’m only half listening. All I can think about is that Faith told her dad after promising to keep this secret. She betrayed a pinkie promise, something that’s been a sacred ritual between us since we met in second grade. We’ve never broken pinkie promises. How could she?

  “Abby! I’m talking to you!”

  “Yes, I heard you. I’m sorry, okay? I should have told you. I just didn’t think it was such a big deal. Yeah, I fainted, but I was fine afterward. I was just … you know, all nervous about auditioning. I never should have let Faith talk me into doing it in the first place.”

  Mom’s face softens and she leans across the table to stroke a lock of hair back from my face.

  “Sweetie, I think it’s great that you tried. Not everyone is cut out to be onstage. You can always work backstage if you want to be involved.”

  “No way. If you think I’m going back there so everyone can laugh at me, forget it!”

  “I’m sure they won’t be laughing at you, darling.”

  “Yeah, right,” Lily says. She gets up out of her chair and does this really exaggerated swoon onto the kitchen floor. I swear no jury would convict me.

  “Lily, that was unhelpful and unkind,” Mom snaps. “Apologize to Abby and go to your room!”

  “But I haven’t had dessert!”

  “I don’t want dessert,” I say quickly. “Lily can help with the dishes and I’ll go to my room instead.”

  Lily starts to protest, but Mom shuts her up with a Look. I stick my tongue out at her as I head out o
f the kitchen. Serves her right.

  I go to my room and shut the door, wishing I could shut one on all the memories of this afternoon’s audition fiasco. Anger sweeps over me again as I think of Faith telling, of her promising me she wouldn’t, her brown eyes looking into mine as our pinkies linked. I open my laptop to send her an e-mail, but get as far as writing Faith before my fingers stop, because what I feel toward her right now is too big and … well, scary, to put into words. I mean, Faith and I have argued before, but I’ve never, ever, felt this gut-wrenching sense of betrayal, wrapped in a fiery cloak of mad. I wish I could call someone to bitch about it but Faith’s the person I always call when I have a problem, so I’m left with all these feelings trapped inside.

  There’s no way I can face doing homework yet, so I log on to ChezTeen to see if there’s anything interesting going on to distract me. Over at the ChezNous Café, people are arguing about The Domestix concert the night before — some people, me included, think it rocked and others think it sucked. It’s starting to develop into a flame war, so I take my avatar over to the park and walk down to the bandstand by the lake, where this guy John Burik is playing an acoustic guitar and singing sad love songs. I turn up my computer speakers. Even though I’m not normally into that folkie kind of stuff, it suits my mood right now.

  BlueSkyBoi: Hey, gorgeous, fancy meeting u here!

  It’s funny, even though I don’t really know him, I’m kind of glad to see BlueSkyBoi. Especially since he’s calling me gorgeous. Even if he doesn’t really mean it, it feels good after the awful afternoon I’ve had.

  AbyAngel99: Hi.

  BlueSky Boi: WTGP?

  This time, I don’t hesitate.

  AbyAngel99: K. Chat room name: BlueSkyBoi

  BlueSkyBoi: How’d the auditions go?

  AbyAngel99: Don’t ask!

  BlueSkyBoi: That bad?

  AbyAngel99: Stage fright.

  BlueSkyBoi: Uh-oh.

  AbyAngel99: Then I fainted.

  BlueSkyBoi: :-O !!!!!

  AbyAngel99: Yeah & then

  I push ENTER and start typing, fast:

  Then my friend Faith promised she wouldn’t tell anyone but she told her dad and he called my mom.

  My finger hesitates above the ENTER key. I feel disloyal telling him about Faith, like I’m betraying her somehow.

  BlueSkyBoi: & then what?

  Then I remember that she betrayed me. Faith’s the one who persuaded me to do something she knew I’d suck at. Faith’s the one who broke a promise. I need to talk and BlueSkyBoi’s willing to listen. I press ENTER.

  BlueSkyBoi: Harsh. Some friend. Guess u can’t trust her anymore.

  AbyAngel99: Can’t understand y she’d do it.

  BlueSkyBoi: Girls can be weird, esp. teen girls. Present company excluded ;-p

  AbyAngel99: But she’s sposed to be my BFF.

  BlueSkyBoi: People change. With friends like that …

  I sigh as I watch the cursor on the screen. Faith has always been like my true north, the one friend I can always count on, no matter what. If I don’t have Faith, then who is there? The screen grows blurry as I fight off tears.

  BlueSkyBoi: You ok? Did I upset u?

  AbyAngel99: Yes. No. I mean, I’m sad because I feel like

  BlueSkyBoi: Like what?

  AbyAngel99: IDK, like things are never going to be the same.

  BlueSkyBoi: Change is tough.

  BlueSkyBoi: But I’m here 4 u, whenever u need me.

  He’s so sweet. I wipe my eyes with the bottom of my T-shirt, and I wonder what he looks like.

  AbyAngel99: Thanx. Ur sweet.

  BlueSkyBoi: Eww, sweet. Yuck. ;-p Don’t ever call a guy sweet!

  AbyAngel99: LOL! Ok, nice but SRSLY macho;-P

  BlueSkyBoi: Better.

  BlueSkyBoi: So tell me more abt you. I bet ur really pretty.

  I feel like he’s reading my mind or something. Maybe we really are soul mates. But on the other hand, I’m glad that we’re separated by a computer screen and who knows how many miles, instead of being in the same room. Because this way he can’t see me blush when I read his words. This way, he won’t be disappointed by the real me. It feels so good to be thought of as pretty.

  AbyAngel99: OK, I guess.

  BlueSkyBoi: Better than ok, I’m sure.

  AbyAngel99: :-p

  BlueSkyBoi: U gotta pic?

  Ack! I was hoping he wouldn’t ask, that I’d be able to drag out his illusion of me as a pretty girl for a while longer. Do I lie and say no? But then I kind of want to see what he looks like, too. Like, I know he’s older than me, but does he look old old or young old? I’m curious enough that I decide to take a chance.

  AbyAngel99: Maybe. Depends.

  BlueSkyBoi: Depends on what?

  AbyAngel99: If u have a pic 2.

  BlueSkyBoi: ur a tough customer.

  AbyAngel99: So?

  BlueSkyBoi: Do I get to see ur pretty face?

  AbyAngel99: Do I get to see urs?

  BlueSkyBoi: My face isn’t “pretty.” And I’m not “sweet.” ;-p

  AbyAngel99: OK, ur srsly handsome macho face ;-p

  BlueSkyBoi: That’s more like it!

  AbyAngel99: Well?

  BlueSkyBoi: K, Send urs to redluke27@yahoo.com

  AbyAngel99: U send urs first! abbyj209@gmail.com

  BlueSkyBoi: K. Sending now … tick tock.

  I wait impatiently for the incoming mail icon to show up, and feel my heart quicken when I see there’s mail from “Luke Redmond.” Hope you like what you see! reads the message. I open the attachment, anxious to see if Luke looks anything like I pictured him.

  He doesn’t exactly. He’s not blond and blue eyed, like I thought he’d be. Instead, he’s got thick, brown hair that curls from underneath a Red Sox hat, which shades his eyes so I can’t see them that well, but he has a cute smile, and his Coldplay T-shirt fits well.

  “Hello, Luke,” I whisper to the picture on the screen.

  BlueSkyBoi: Where’s my pic?!!

  AbyAngel99: Oops, sorry, too busy lookin at urs

  AbyAngel99: Will send now.

  I quickly scan the photos I’ve got of myself, trying to figure out which one to send. Most of them are of Faith and me together and I’m so mad at her at the moment I don’t want any part of her. Plus, I kind of want to keep Luke to myself. I decide to send a picture Faith took of me at the eighth-grade picnic at Candlewood Lake — right before I went behind a clump of rhododendrons to make out with Roger Hunter. Boy, was that ever a mistake! I’d had a really big crush on him all year, but it turned out he just wanted to try to get to second base. And he was a really lousy kisser. But it’s a good picture. I’m wearing jeans shorts and a flowery bikini top and these fake Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses that I bought on the street in New York City for ten dollars without noticing they said Dolce & Gabbanana. Lily never let me live that down. But Faith says they make me look like a movie star, especially when I’m doing the pretend-I’m-a-model pose like I’m doing in the picture.

  AbyAngel99: On its way.

  BlueSkyBoi: So?

  AbyAngel99: So …

  BlueSkyBoi: What did u think?

  AbyAngel99: Well …

  BlueSkyBoi: Yes?

  AbyAngel99: Ur pretty cute

  BlueSkyBoi: Only pretty cute!? Not the hottest guy u ever saw????? jk.

  AbyAngel99: LOL! Maybe 2nd hottest.

  I wonder if he’s opened the picture of me yet. What if he thinks I’m a total dog and doesn’t want to chat with me anymore? It’s kind of freaky to send your picture out over the Internet to someone you don’t really know and then have to sit waiting for their judgment on how you look. Maybe that’s why my aunt Penny, who got divorced two years ago, hates online dating so much. Mom’s always nagging her to go back on to Match.com but Aunt Penny says she’d rather have root canal work — without anesthetic.

  AbyAngel99: So …

  BlueSkyBoi: Sew buttons.

  AbyAngel99
: Ur sew not funny

  BlueSkyBoi: Would it help if I said ur the hottest chick I’ve seen in a long time?

  I feel warm all over. I know he’s probably lying, but it feels good to hear someone say it anyway.

  AbyAngel99: Might help if I actually believed u meant it.

  BlueSkyBoi: Srsly, Abby, ur really pretty. I don’t know why u don’t think so.

  AbyAngel99: Maybe cause guys in my hs don’t exactly seem to be beating down my door.

  BlueSkyBoi: Good! I’d be jealous if they were.

  It’s strange that Luke’s talking like this, all jealous and possessive like he’s my boyfriend or something. Strange, but kind of flattering and nice.

  BlueSkyBoi: Those guys must be immature idiots. Srsly. If they can’t see how cool and hot u are.

  AbyAngel99: Cool and hot. Haha!

  BlueSkyBoi: U know what I mean ;-p

  AbyAngel99: I guess.

  BlueSkyBoi: Damn, I GTG. Time for work.

  AbyAngel99: Now? What do u do?

  BlueSkyBoi: Nothing interesting, believe me.

  BlueSkyBoi: Hang in there, gorgeous.

  BlueSkyBoi: TTY tomorrow?

  AbyAngel99: K.

  AbyAngel99: Byes.

  I gaze at Luke’s picture for a while after he logs off, trying to imagine him in the room with me. I try to imagine what it would be like if he were my age and went to my school, like if it were Luke who sat behind me in math class instead of Nick Peters. I get all depressed at that thought, because then Luke would probably have the hots for Amanda Armitage, just like Nick does, and he’d barely give me a second glance except for when he needed to copy my homework. Oh, yeah, and he’d call me Annabelle or Aggie or something. It’s probably a good thing that Luke lives somewhere that we’ll never meet in real life. That way I can always imagine the way it could be, rather than be disappointed by the way it is.

  But I can’t help myself from looking up his profile to see where he lives. BlueSkyBoi … age twenty-eight. I thought he said twenty-seven? Anyway, he’s from New Jersey, it says. Toms River. I look it up on Google Maps. It’s on the Jersey shore, north of Atlantic City. My parents took us to Atlantic City once. Mom and Lily and I hung out on the beach while Dad went to some Boring Accountants Convention. It took us, like, six hours to get there. It was only supposed to take four, but the traffic was awful. And I was stuck in the backseat with Lily whining the whole time. Joy.