Oh, no! I hammered on the Delete key and swore at myself. Dummy, dummy, dummy! Cyrano and I had been having such a great conversation, and now I’d gone and ruined it by insulting him. What an idiot I was!
My hands shook as I placed them back on the keyboard.
Roxane: Sorry, Cyrano. No offense intended. At my house, it’s a saying.
I forced myself to stop writing. Groveling would only make matters worse. I hit Enter and held my breath as I waited for Cyrano’s reply.
It felt like I sat there forever, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute before the screen reloaded with his answer.
Cyrano: I was kidding!! We have the same saying at my house. Besides, if U were insulting me, U were insulting yourself 2.
I was so relieved, I laughed out loud. With my lighthearted mood restored, I sent back a smart aleck comment.
Roxane: U figured that out, did ya?
Cyrano: Ho-ho! The girl has got attitude!
That’s when I heard Mom and Dad coming through the front door. Darn! I couldn’t let them find me in a chat room. Why did they have to show up right when I was having a good time? Reluctantly I put my hands back on the keyboard and prepared to log off.
Roxane: And she also has 2 get off the computer. But it’s been fun talking 2 U.
Cyrano: Ditto. So how about we do it again? Say Sunday afternoon? Same chat room?
Roxane: Sounds good. Talk 2 U then. Bye.
I grinned all the way to my room. I had a date! Well, sort of a date. The closest I’d ever come to having a date, anyway.
I’m fifteen years old, in grade nine, and nobody’s ever asked me out. I’ve never even danced with a boy! I know I’m not a goddess or anything, but I’m not paper bag ugly either. And I dress okay. I don’t have bad breath or B.O. I do normal teenager stuff. But I’ve never had a date.
I started grinning again. That was about to change.
I was still smiling when I climbed into bed.
“Stop it, Linda!” I scolded myself.
Even if hooking up with Cyrano on Sunday was a date, it wasn’t me who was having it. It was Roxane. If Cyrano knew I was Roxane, he wouldn’t be the least bit interested.
Maybe it was the name he liked. Roxane certainly sounded zippier than Linda. I wasn’t named after anybody, so I have no idea why my parents couldn’t have chosen something more original. Why not Lindi or Linley? Even a different spelling—say, Lynda—would have been better.
What kind of a chance did I have against the Caitlyns, Mirandas and Bethanys of the world with a boring name like Linda?
I resisted visiting any of the chat rooms again until Sunday. For one thing I didn’t want my parents asking me why I was on the computer so much lately. Also I wanted the Sunday chat with Cyrano to be special.
We wouldn’t be the only ones in the chat room, of course, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d specially asked me to be there.
At one o’clock I went to the school website and pulled down the Wellington Room menu to see who was inside. There were a half-dozen kids, but Cyrano wasn’t one of them. At two o’clock I checked again. And then at two-fifteen. At two-thirty he was there. But I didn’t want to seem too anxious, so I didn’t log on for another ten minutes.
The topic this time was Monday’s big basketball game against Creighton High. The Warriors had beaten us in last year’s city final, so this was a big grudge match.
Fish: The Warriors don’t stand a chance. They’ve lost 3 of their starters from last season.
Kingpin: We’ve lost players 2. Sabourin and Willows are gone—they were our big scorers.
Fish: Yeah, but we picked up a couple of really good players like that new kid from Calgary. I forget his name—he can shoot the lights out.
3M: Our rookies aren’t 2 shabby. I bet we can beat Creighton EZ.
Cyrano: I think we’ll win 2, but it isn’t going 2 B a piece of cake. The Warriors are a good team. And they have amazing fans. They get more kids out 2 their away games than a lot of schools get at home. We can’t let them have that advantage. We have 2 fill the gym with our own fans. So tomorrow remind everyone 2 go 2 the game and cheer their faces off.
Frisky Filly: Holy cheerleader, Batman! R U a fan or what!
Cyrano: U bet. I never miss a game. The team can’t lose when I wear my lucky Wellington Tigers shirt. Those black and orange stripes paralyze the opposition.
I reread Cyrano’s message. He was going to be at tomorrow’s basketball game—a spectator, not a player. And he was going to be wearing an orange and black striped shirt. If I wanted to find out who he was in real life, all I had to do was go to the game.
My heart did a flip. Had Cyrano dropped those clues on purpose? Did he want me to know who he was? Did he want to know who I was too?
It was time to let him know I was in the chat room.
Roxane: Lucky shirt, huh? Whatever works for ya, I guess.
Cyrano: Hey, Roxie. I wondered if you were going 2 log on 2day. Going 2 the big game 2morrow?
I hadn’t planned on it, but now it was definitely on my agenda.
Roxane: Absolutely.
Cyrano: Good. Make sure U wear your striped shirt.
I only hesitated a second before typing my response.
Roxane: I’m not really the striped shirt type. I think I’ll stick with my lucky stuffed Wellington Tiger.
Cyrano: Like U said—whatever works.
chapter seven
I don’t think I closed my eyes that night. There was no point. I couldn’t have slept if I’d tried. There was too much going on in my head. I was arguing with myself so much I was beginning to wonder if I had a multiple personality disorder.
Part of me was bouncing off the ceiling. Cyrano liked me. I’m not saying he was in love with me or anything, but he wanted to meet me in real life. Why else would he have dropped all those clues?
He just got caught up in the school spirit thing and didn’t think about what he was saying, said the sensible me. He probably didn’t even realize he’d dropped any clues.
But he asked what I was going to wear to the game, the excited part of me insisted. Why would he do that unless he wanted to know who I was?
Then another voice—one that sounded a lot like Janice—piped up. If you show up at that game tomorrow carrying a stuffed tiger, you’re asking for trouble. If you had half a brain, you wouldn’t go anywhere near that gym.
I have to admit I was nervous about revealing my identity. I liked the Cyrano I knew online, but what if he wasn’t like that in real life? He was smart and funny in the chat rooms, but what if he turned out to be a loser—a loser who thought I liked him? Then I’d really have a problem.
On the other hand, he might be absolutely awesome in person and be totally disappointed in who I was. If that happened, I’d never be able to show my face at school again.
When morning finally rolled around, I still didn’t know what I was going to do. Maybe I’d go to the game. Maybe I wouldn’t. But just in case, I spent extra time on my hair and makeup.
I also made a trip to my old toy chest in the basement and dug out a small plush stuffy, an orange cat that used to sit on my bed. It didn’t have any stripes, but a black felt marker took care of that.
“Coming to the game?” I asked Janice as we headed to our lockers after school.
She rolled her eyes. “As if. Are you?”
I shrugged. “I thought I might. It’s a really big game, you know. Creighton beat us out for the championship last year. This is our chance for revenge. Why don’t you come? It’ll be fun.” The truth of the matter was I didn’t want to go alone.
Janice eyed me skeptically. “Since when are you a basketball fan?”
“I’m not, not really.” There was no sense trying to lie. I’d never pull it off.
“Why are you going to the game then?”
“Everybody is.”
“Who is everybody?”
I heaved an exasperated sigh.”Everybody! You know�
��the kids in school. People with school spirit. What do you want, names?”
Janice crossed her arms and flopped against her locker. “Yeah,” she drawled. “Give me some names.”
“You’re being stupid.”
“You wish,” she said. “You can’t give me names because you don’t have any. Not real names anyway. You’re going to the game because all your little chat room buddies are going. Am I right?”
“What is wrong with you?” I growled.
Janice shook her head as if I was the most pathetic excuse for a human being she’d ever seen.
“Maybe you ought to look in the mirror when you ask that question,” she said. And then she walked away.
She hadn’t yelled or slammed her locker door. She hadn’t even glared at me. She’d just said her piece and left. Maybe she’d given up trying to bully me and decided to use scare tactics instead.
Scared is exactly how I felt as I headed toward the gym. Everyone else was laughing and hurrying along the hallway like they were on their way to the event of a lifetime.
I, on the other hand, could have been walking to the gas chamber. At least ten times I lost my nerve, but my feet didn’t get the message. They just kept right on walking.
The bleachers were already packed when I entered the gym. I tried to focus on faces to see if there was anyone I knew well enough to sit beside. But all I could make out was a solid mass of bodies.
The gym was vibrating with music and basketballs were pounding the floor as the teams went through their warm-ups. People were pushing me from behind, so I had no choice but to keep moving.
About halfway around the gym, I saw a group of girls five rows up. I didn’t know any of them, but it didn’t matter. There was an empty spot beside them on the end of the bleacher. It wasn’t huge, but then neither am I. I could squeeze into it.
Stepping over and around the bodies on the rows below, I climbed up and claimed the seat. The girl I parked beside sent me a snotty look, but at least she didn’t hip check me off the bleacher.
I pulled the tiger stuffy out of my schoolbag and set it on my lap. Then I started looking around the gym for an orange and black striped shirt. Right away my hopes tumbled into my shoes. A third of the guys in the gym were wearing orange and black striped shirts!
Somebody must have given out the school’s rugby and soccer jerseys. Had Cyrano known that was going to happen? Had I been set up?
I felt so stupid!
“Hi,” said a voice beside t he bleacher.
“What?” Startled, I glanced down to see Chad Sharp looking at me. “Oh, hi,” I replied, sticking a smile on top of the frown I was wearing. I can only imagine what that must have looked like.
“Do you mind if I stand here?” he mumbled into his chest. “There are no seats left.”
I peered around the gym. A lot of people were standing. “I must’ve gotten the last one,” I said, hoping I sounded more cheerful than I felt.
He nodded toward the players taking their positions on the floor. “You a fan?”
“Oh, yeah.” I gave my stuffed tiger a spin in the air. “Woo-hoo. Go Wellington!”
And then the whistle blew, the referee threw the ball up in the air and the game was underway. My eyes followed the players up and down the floor, and I clapped every time the Tigers scored, but my mind was not on the game. Janice was right. I shouldn’t have come. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Chad. There was nothing I wanted more than to tear out of that gym, but I couldn’t leave with him standing there. Like it or not, I was trapped.
If I’d really been a fan, I guess that wouldn’t have been so bad. Everybody else seemed to be enjoying the game. They were certainly making enough noise. The only time it ever got quiet was when our guys were shooting free throws.
So, of course, that’s when it happened. The score was tied, and our team was at the line. You could feel the tension in the air. And then, just as the shooter went to release the ball, the girl beside me grabbed the little stuffy out of my lap. She started jumping up and down and waving it in the air. “Go Tigers! Go Tigers!”
Every head in the gym turned to look at her—at her and my tiger.
chapter eight
When the girl went to give me back my stuffy, I told her to keep it. What did it matter now? Everyone in the gym had seen her waving it around. Including Cyrano. No doubt he thought she was Roxane.
This was not how things were supposed to work out. Cyrano was supposed to wear a striped shirt, and I was supposed to pick him out of the crowd. Then when I waved my little stuffed tiger, he was supposed to pick me out of the crowd. After that we would start talking. Things would go from there. It might not be Cinderella and Prince Charming but it was a start.
Yeah, right! Some start. I was no closer to knowing who Cyrano was than I had been a week ago. And he didn’t know who I was either.
Even worse, he thought I was somebody else. Okay, maybe he didn’t think I was somebody else, but he thought Roxane was! The situation was about as messed up as it could get.
I didn’t visit the chat rooms that night. I couldn’t. Now that Cyrano had a face for Roxane, he was either going to be turned off or turned on. Either way, it was bad news for me.
If he didn’t like the look of the girl waving my toy tiger, he might ignore me in the chat room. But if he did talk to me, he would think he was talking to her. Confused identities were so romantic in the movies, but in real life they were frustrating.
I was nervous about going to school the next day. At the moment the only one who knew about the mix-up was me, but it was only a matter of time until Cyrano figured it out. Eventually he would talk to that girl, and when he did he’d put all the pieces together. Then how stupid would I look?
In the meantime I had to keep Janice from finding out, and that was not going to be easy. Janice always seemed to know when I was hiding something, and she had a nasty habit of nagging me until I spilled the beans. It didn’t usually take too long. Lying is another one of those things I’m not very good at.
I got to school early, hoping to get my books out of my locker and sneak into homeroom before Janice showed up. But—wouldn’t you know it—she was already there. And from the look of it, she was waiting for me.
I took a deep breath and tried to look natural.
“You’re here early,” I said, focusing my attention on my lock so she couldn’t read my face.
“So are you,” she replied.
“I forgot my homework last night, so I came in to do it before class,” I lied.
“You sure?” she said.
I looked over and frowned at her. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m sure.”
She shrugged. “I just thought maybe you’d snagged yourself a boyfriend and had an early morning date.”
I was stunned. What hat had she pulled that out of? If I didn’t know better, I would’ve said Janice knew what was going on. But she couldn’t. I hadn’t talked to her since yesterday at our lockers. More than likely she’d just made a lucky guess.
“Very funny,” I scowled. “I don’t have a boyfriend, and you know it.”
Janice reached into her locker and pulled out a long triangular-shaped package. There was no mistaking what it was. I’d done the Mother’s Day thing enough times to recognize florist’s paper when I saw it.
“Well, if you’re sure you don’t have a boyfriend, then I guess the custodian must have left this,” she shrugged. “Maybe it’s a thank-you for keeping your locker tidy.”
She held the package out to me. “It was on the floor when I got here.” She pointed to a small white envelope taped to the wrapping paper. “It’s addressed to you.” Then she closed her locker and walked away.
I don’t know how long I stood with my mouth hanging open, but when I went to call Janice back, she was gone. I looked down the hall both ways. It was empty. I was the only one around.
I didn’t know what to do. I’d never received flowers before. Was I supposed to open
the card first or the package?
I opted for the package. There was no sense getting my hopes up for nothing. More than likely, Janice was playing a joke on me and had wrapped up weeds or something.
The paper came away without a fight, and inside, much to my surprise, was a gorgeous, long-stemmed rose. It wasn’t dead or anything. In fact, it was in a vial of water, and there was a stem of baby’s breath with it.
I touched the yellow petals. They were velvety soft. I put my face close to them and breathed deeply. They smelled gorgeous.
But who was the rose from?
Cradling the package in my arm, I felt around the outside of the paper for the envelope and ripped it free. It was definitely addressed to me. I couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. I tore open the flap and pulled out the white card.
A flower to replace your tiger, it read, and it was signed, C.
I gasped. Then I started grinning like an idiot. C! It was signed, C! The rose was from Cyrano! He had spotted me at the game. And if the rose meant anything, he hadn’t hated what he’d seen.
I couldn’t wait to let Cyrano know how much I liked the rose. Actually it wasn’t the rose I was thrilled with so much as what it stood for. It meant Cyrano knew who I was, and he was interested.
I went on the computer around eight o’clock. Cyrano wasn’t in any of the chat rooms. I scanned through the day’s postings, but his name didn’t appear in any of them. He hadn’t logged on yet.
I waited for an hour, but when he still hadn’t shown up, I decided to leave a message—something that he would understand, but nobody else would.
I hopped from chat room to chat room, waiting for someone to bring up a topic that I could casually work my secret message into. It was Frisky Filly who provided the perfect opening. Kids were talking about the upcoming dance, and Filly wanted to know why guys never gave girls corsages anymore.
Frisky Filly: My grandma says guys always brought flowers 4 their dates.
This was my chance. I couldn’t get my message typed fast enough.
Roxane: Sounds good 2 me. Bring back the good old days! I’d love 4 a guy 2 give me flowers, especially yellow roses.
Chat Room Page 3