by Nancy N. Rue
Then came a cut-out photograph of Sophie’s head. When Sophie clicked on the icon, there was a recording in her own voice saying, “I’m in love.” Her photographed mouth moved like a robot’s.
Below that was a picture of Jimmy with his mouth open and a written quote: “I wanted Julia, but she’s going out with Colton now. Lucky guy. Sophie’s okay, but—”
For More, Click Here, the instructions read. Sophie did, and heard Jimmy’s voice saying, “She’s got some serious mental problems.”
It ended with—
To Follow Jimmy/Sophie, Check This Website Daily. To End, Click Here.
Sophie did and was rewarded with a loud kissing sound.
Even after the images disappeared from the screen, Sophie sat staring at it. It’s not true! she thought over and over. It’s all made up!
And then it pinged in her head. She’d just been cyber-bullied.
Okay—okay, she thought. What am I supposed to do?
She smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. Du-uh. I WROTE the rules!
No more going to that website. That was Step One. But she was still shivering. She decided to skip a couple of steps and tell Daddy.
It was DOS—“daughter over shoulder”—as Daddy perused Who’s Getting Together on his computer in the study, making disgusted noises in his throat.
“Isn’t Jimmy that kid you’re doing the website with?” he said.
“Yes.”
“You two aren’t—“
“Daddy!”
“I’m just asking. They’ve got a picture of you both here.”
“We were practicing for our movie!”
“And the recording of your voice?”
“I don’t know how they got that. We were just messing around in the locker room, playing a joke.”
“That’s your screen name, isn’t it? Dream Girl?”
“But I never wrote that! I don’t even think it!”
Daddy put his hand on top of Sophie’s head and gently pushed her down to sit beside him. “Okay, Baby Girl, I’m on your side. I’m just showing you how easy it is for people to get images and sound bites and ‘prove’ anything they want to.” He grunted. “These kids should be working for the tabloids.”
“What are those?”
“Those newspapers in the grocery store checkout line with the stuff about space aliens and Elvis coming back.”
“That’s so totally what this is!” Sophie said. “Only how did they get all this stuff? How did somebody get my email address?”
And did Jimmy really say I had some serious mental problems? she added to herself. She was suddenly having a hard time swallowing.
“All right, here’s the game plan,” Daddy said. “I’m going to move your and Lacie’s computers into the family room.”
“Why?” Sophie said.
“Why? You gave me the rules—right there in that stuff for parents from the conference. It said to not let your child use a computer in a private place like the bedroom.” Daddy grinned at her as he ruffled up her hair. “That will teach you to be such a good kid, huh?” His blue eyes got softer. “Look, I know you feel like you’re being punished for what somebody else is doing, but I just think I need to keep a closer eye on what goes on with your computer use. I promise I won’t POS you too much.”
Sophie’s eyes bulged. “I shouldn’t have given you that stuff,” she said.
Daddy laughed. After he moved the computers into the family room, Lacie glared at Sophie for the rest of the day.
Sophie could barely drag herself into the school on Monday. If she had seen the website, the rest of GMMS had probably seen it too.
But nobody mentioned it before school or during the first block. Not even Fiona.
Maybe they really have moved on to the next thing to gossip about, Sophie thought. Just like Coach Virile said.
Cynthia Cyber sighed. At last the young people were starting to understand: if cyber bullying got them no attention, they would soon stop. She rubbed her hands together and went for the mouse again. There was still much work to be done—
“There is a rule at this school about cell phones in class.” Mrs. Clayton’s voice trumpeted across the room.
Sophie turned around to see Tod blinking innocently. He looked like a character from Dr. Seuss, the way everything on his face came to a point at the end of his nose, but he wasn’t fooling Sophie. There was a cell phone someplace on his person.
“It’s a good rule too, Mrs. C.,” he said. “How would anybody get any work done if people were sending out pictures to everybody’s cell phones?”
Julia smacked him on the back of the head with her binder. Anne-Stuart went into a coughing fit.
“Is that what’s going on?” Mrs. Clayton was now on him like an angry goose. Ms. Hess was closing in from behind.
“I don’t know.” Tod shrugged. “I don’t have a cell phone.”
“Frisk him, Mrs. C!” said Colton as he grinned at Tod. “Make sure he isn’t lyin’.”
“Shut up!” Tod said.
“Everyone be quiet!” Mrs. Clayton’s trumpet voice hit a new high. Even Ms. Hess jumped.
“Now,” Mrs. Clayton said, “this is your warning: leave your cell phones in your lockers when you come to this class. Any that I find in this room will be confiscated and you can retrieve them from Mr. Bentley.”
Mr. Bentley was the principal. You didn’t want to have to go to his office.
“What was that whole thing about the cell phones?” Darbie said when the Corn Flakes were on their way to PE.
“Did it happen in your class too?” Maggie said. “Everybody was looking at their phones and laughing.” She squared her shoulders. “They’re not supposed to have them in class.”
Sophie looked at Willoughby, who lagged behind them. “You have a cell phone,” she said. “Do you know?”
Willoughby wouldn’t look at her.
“You do know,” Fiona said. “Come on, dish.”
“I don’t want to,” Willoughby said.
“Why not?” Darbie said.
Willoughby wound a curl around her finger. “Because it’s about Sophie.”
They all stopped. Sophie felt herself go cold again.
“Was it a text message?” Fiona poked Willoughby. “What did it say about Sophie?”
“It wasn’t a text message.” Willoughby sounded like every word was painful to say. “It was a picture.”
“You can’t get pictures on a cell phone,” Maggie said flatly.
“You can if it’s a camera phone,” Fiona said. “Was it of Sophie?”
Willoughby gave a miserable nod. “She was putting on her shorts in the locker room.” Her eyes popped at Sophie. “You couldn’t really see your underwear or anything.”
“I admit that’s pretty rude,” Fiona said. “But it’s not like that bad.”
“There were words with it, though.” Willoughby looked like she was going to throw up. “It said, ‘Hey, Jimmy, look who has the ugliest body at GMMS.’”
She threw her arms around Sophie, but Sophie peeled her off. Although her lips were frozen, she managed to say, “We have to tell. It says so on our website.”
“Let’s see it, Will,” Darbie said.
But Willoughby shook her head. There were tears shining in her eyes. “I erased it. I didn’t want Sophie to see it.”
Sophie sagged. “Then we don’t have any evidence.”
“And you know nobody else around here is going to turn them in,” Darbie said. “The blaggards.”
Maggie jerked her head toward the locker room. “We’re gonna be late.”
But as the rest of the Corn Flakes hurried inside, Fiona tugged Sophie to a stop.
“I know the Pops are being mean, Soph,” she said. Her eyes looked motherly. “But they wouldn’t even be doing it if it didn’t look like you and Jimmy were practically engaged.”
“It doesn’t look like that!”
Fiona wiggled Sophie’s sleeve. “Evidently it does
to them. I’m just saying, think about it.”
It was impossible to think about anything else from then on. Sophie could barely change into her PE clothes for fear there were hidden cameras everywhere. The other Corn Flakes kept close watch on the Pops while she wriggled into her shorts. They were on backward, but she left them that way.
During class she went through the gymnastics moves like an icicle. Anne-Stuart did hers perfectly, which made Sophie wish she had faked a heart attack and gone to the nurse instead. Eddie acted like he was zipped inside a sleeping bag—that was how much attention he paid to anybody. Sophie didn’t even try to guess what was going on with him.
In fact, by the time she got to fourth period, Sophie was in such a frozen state she stared for a good two minutes at the paper Miss Imes put on her desk before she realized it was a test. A test she’d forgotten to study for. When they exchanged papers and graded them at the end of class, Sophie’s came back to her from Darbie with a D on it and a tiny sad face.
She was ready to cry, especially when Miss Imes stopped her after class. “Sophie, you were doing so well again, and now lately you’ve slacked off.”
“I’ll be okay,” Sophie said.
“You’re distracted.” Miss Imes pointed her eyebrows up to her hairline. “That’s one reason why students shouldn’t be dating so young.”
Is there anybody in this whole school who isn’t talking about me? Sophie thought on the way to the cafeteria. It felt like she was walking down the hall naked.
When she got to the Corn Flake table in the cafeteria, the Lucky Charms were there too. Sophie didn’t let her eyes linger on Jimmy. There was still the question of whether he really thought she was mental.
Vincent, it seemed, was in the middle of clearing that up.
“That so-called quote from Jimmy was obviously taken out of context,” he said.
Maggie frowned. “What does—”
“It means he said it,” Fiona told her, “but not about Sophie.” She didn’t look all that convinced to Sophie.
“I would never say that about Sophie!” Jimmy said. She sneaked a glance. His face was blotchy.
“If you can remember when you did say it,” Vincent said, “we could probably figure out who recorded you.”
“We already know it was Julia and them,” Maggie said. “Who else?”
“But I don’t even talk to them,” Jimmy said. “Except in groups in class.”
“All right then.” Darbie’s voice was brisk. “When did you say somebody had serious mental problems?”
Jimmy frowned, then snapped his fingers. “It was when we were talking about that book we’re reading. Y’know, the one where the guy stands the woman up on their wedding day and she won’t let anybody touch anything, and it’s like forty years later and the cake is still sitting there.”
“Yeah,” Willoughby said. “She did have some serious mental problems.”
“And you said that in group,” Vincent said.
Jimmy nodded.
“There you have it.”
“But how did they get my screen name on there?” Sophie said. “Because I did not say what it says I said.”
Vincent put out his hands as if that were obvious. “It’s so easy for somebody to copy your screen name when you’re IMing. They just erase what you did say and put in whatever they want.”
“But she doesn’t IM with the Pops,” Darbie said.
“I did once,” Sophie said. Her brain was finally thawing out, and things were pinging in there. “Anne-Stuart IM’d me to say she was sorry about what Julia said about me that day.”
“Did you answer?” Vincent said.
“All I said was hi and thanks.”
“That’s all it takes.” Vincent popped a whole Oreo into his mouth and added, “Like I said, there you have it.”
Just then Girl #1 and Girl #2 appeared and stood at the end of the Corn Flakes’ table. They looked at Sophie, looked at each other, and became hysterical. They had to help each other stay upright as they moved away howling.
“Do you believe that?” Sophie said to Fiona.
Fiona just cocked an eyebrow.
“What does that mean?” Sophie said.
“It means what I said before. It isn’t just the getting-together website that’s making people think this stuff about you and Jimmy.”
Sophie stared at her.
“I’m just saying they see you two together all the time.” Fiona shrugged. “So what else are they supposed to think?”
As much as that ate at Sophie, for the rest of the week it seemed Fiona might be at least a little bit right. It didn’t matter what Sophie and Jimmy did. Whether they were working on the website in the computer room, walking to a Round Table meeting together, or practicing their scenes for the Christmas movie, there always seemed to be at least two people there, pointing and whispering and snickering behind their hands. It was never the Corn Pops or the Fruit Loops, but Sophie constantly looked for camera lenses and tape recorders.
When she went to bed every night she tried to confess her sins, but it seemed like it was everybody else who was doing the sinning.
I know I’m supposed to forgive them, she thought more than once. But I don’t know how! When Dr. Peter canceled Bible study at the last minute on Wednesday, she thought she might actually develop some serious mental problems.
Sophie was also spending every evening trying to bring her grades back up. That meant spending less and less time with the Corn Flakes, and Fiona was complaining right out in the open about that. Sophie hardly even had a chance to read and send emails, much less go to the Corn Flakes’ chat room. The subject line on Fiona’s email Friday night was: Are You Still Alive?
You BETTER make some time for me after rehearsal tomorrow, she’d written. I’m going into Sophie withdrawal.
I’m all yours tomorrow, Sophie wrote back.
But it didn’t quite turn out that way.
Nine
The whole group, even Kitty in a wheelchair, met at the skating rink at Hampton Coliseum Saturday morning to practice the ice-skating scene for the movie. Boppa took a seat in the stands to watch.
“I don’t remember any ice skating in ‘’Twas the Night Before Christmas,’” Maggie said for about the twentieth time.
“Whoever wrote it put it in there because you have to have action in a movie,” Sophie told her patiently. She finished lacing her skates and stood up. She’d learned to skate when she was little, but it had been a while since she’d been on the ice. She put out one foot and slid into an almost split.
“That’s perfect!” Vincent said. “If this scene is gonna be funny, you’re gonna have to fall down a lot.”
“It won’t be funny if she breaks a leg,” Maggie said.
Vincent blinked at her. “Are you, like, forty years old only you’re disguised as a kid?”
“You ready, Sophie?” Jimmy said.
“Ready for what?” Fiona spun around on her skates and faced them both.
“The script says Mr. and Mrs. Linkhart skate together,” Darbie said.
“We need to change that,” Fiona said. “It won’t be funny.”
“Yeah, it will be,” Jimmy said. “Watch this.”
He grabbed both of Sophie’s hands and pulled her toward him as he skated backward. She lunged forward, legs marching out stiffly behind her.
“That is funny!” Kitty squealed from her wheelchair.
Willoughby let out a series of poodle shrieks as Jimmy hauled Sophie all over the ice. He whipped her back and forth, held her up by the back of her sweater while her feet kicked in the air, and did a jump over her while she crouched on the ice. It was like doing gymnastics, only on skates. Sophie felt like a limp spaghetti noodle, and she could hardly catch her breath from laughing.
“It doesn’t even look close to Victorian,” Fiona said when Jimmy skated Sophie back over to the group.
Maggie waved the costume sketches. “You can’t do all that in a corset.”
> “Bummer,” Nathan said. “I liked it.”
“I say we cut the ice-skating scene,” Fiona said.
Sophie stared at her, but Fiona wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“We can do the funny stuff and be Victorian,” Jimmy said. “We’ll just go along all serious and proper, and then Sophie’ll fall and I’ll catch her. We’ll do one of those moves we were just doing, and then we’ll go back to proper.”
“But we haven’t seen you do anything ‘proper,’” Darbie said.
“Sophie can’t skate that good,” Maggie said.
Sophie squirmed. Is it just me, she thought, or are my best friends not being very nice to me right now?
She looked at Willoughby and Kitty, who were watching Fiona like they were waiting for a cue. Neither of them said anything.
“Let’s see what you got,” Vincent said.
Fiona rolled her eyes, but Jimmy grabbed Sophie’s hand again and pulled her back out into the rink.
“Just relax and do whatever I tell you,” he murmured. “I won’t let you fall.”
Sophie gave one more glance to the doubtful group on the sidelines. Even Boppa was leaning forward in his chair.
“Okay,” she whispered back.
Jimmy put one arm around Sophie’s waist and stretched the other one across the front of him to hold her right hand. “Just put your left hand on my back,” he whispered.
She did.
“Now relax and let me do all the work,” he said.
Relax? How could she do that when she knew she was turning red all the way to her toes? Getting slung around was one thing, but this was more like dancing.
With a boy.
I don’t want to do this! she thought.
She glanced toward the sidelines. Fiona was already shaking her head, an I-told-you-so scrawled across her face. Kitty appeared to be biting her nails.
“Ready?” Jimmy whispered.
Louisa Linkhart looked into her husband’s eyes. She knew how much he wanted to skate with her, even though she was terribly clumsy on the ice. What could it hurt? After all, it was Christmas Eve—and he’d said he wouldn’t let her fall. He was a superb skater—
So Louisa breathed, “Ready,” and let Lincoln Linkhart guide her smoothly across the lake, his hands solid and safe, holding her up. Little by little she relaxed, and she even leaned when he leaned and laughed when he laughed. It was as if they were one person, sailing past the other skaters under the moonlight. It was magic—