Oracle (6 page)

I'm embarrassed that I haven't offered. Even rude guests deserve to be offered refreshments. “Of course,” I say. “I'll go grab something.”

I push back from my desk and hurry to the kitchen. Now that I think about it, I'm starving.

I take bread and cheese out of the fridge and turn the oven on to
broil
. I flip on the kitchen sound system. The room fills with Calm Radio piano solos. My mom's favorite.

I change it to skate punk.

I sigh. Now that Kamryn knows I'm Kyle's brother, chances are she's going to want to hang around with me more to be closer to him.

That should be a good thing, right? That we spend more time together? Except.

She'll be doing it because of him, not because of me.

And Hannah's right. She's not very nice.

Even Kamryn was right. We have almost nothing in common.

Plus, Kamryn has zero sense of humor.

I swipe a knife out of the block and shave off thin slices of cheddar. I pile them on two slices of bread. I slide the tray into the oven and grab an apple. I polish it on my jeans, like I've seen Hannah do.

Hannah.

I've lost touch with one of my best friends while getting myself tangled up in a web of dishonesty with someone I'm not sure I want anymore.

Stupid.

I wash and slice the apple.

When I open the oven door a few minutes later, the cheese toast is bubbling. Perfect. I slide the pan out onto the stovetop to cool, and then I grab plates.

Then I remember.

I didn't lock the screen on my computer before I left my room.

Oh crap
.

My stomach plummets.

I throw the plates on the counter and pound down the hallway back to my room, my heart slamming.

I skid to a stop at my doorway. My eyes wheel around the room in panic. “Kamryn?”

She's not here.

“Kamryn?” I yell.

No answer.

Her bag's gone.

She left. The music must have been too loud for me to hear her leave.

Crap
.

I bolt toward my computer and slide onto the chair. The wheels roll me sideways, smashing my knees against my bookcase.

I paw at the trackpad to get rid of the screensaver.

When the screen fills, I'm not looking at a website on Mayan religious customs. Not at all.

I'm looking at the Oracle.

She found it.

And she wrote about it. In a post. And her post is on the home page, which means she published it too.

The title screams at me.
The Oracle
is A LIE!

I skim the post.

There it is. Plain as day. Out there in the ether for everyone to see.

Listen up, people! This isn't the
Oracle writing to you. This is another
student at LaMontagne. The Oracle is
all made up.

I feel like puking.

I've just discovered that Owen
Roberts writes the posts. “As I see it,”
(ha ha), you have been telling your
secrets to a grade-eight idiot loser…
and he's been making up answers to
try and trick you!

I bite down on the irony. I wasn't trying to trick anyone except Kamryn. For everyone else, I did my absolute best to advise them wisely. And now she's calling me out as a cheat.

But how do I prove otherwise? I can't argue with her.

There's no fixing this.

This is going to be the end of my days at school.

Chapter Twelve

I don't want to get out of bed the next day. How do I face a world that thinks my blog is a sham? That
I'm
a sham?

The thing is, it doesn't feel like a sham at all. I was proud of the Oracle. I liked helping people. Or what I thought was helping people.

I heave my legs over the side of the bed and sit up. I rub my face.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life at LaMontagne. And is it ever going to look different from this point forward.

At school, I keep my head down and my feet moving. A lot of people stare at me. People in Kamryn's posse whisper hissy comments to each other while glaring in my direction.

I want to talk to Hannah, but I've bungled that friendship beyond repair. She's not coming back.

There is a lot of whispering. But no one talks to me.

No one, that is, except Mason.

He catches up with me on the way to Spanish. “Hey, man,” he says. “Don't sweat it. It'll pass. I love the Oracle. Everybody loves the Oracle.”

“You think?” I ask.

He nods. “For sure! It's great reading.” He claps me on the shoulder, then drops his voice. “But I have to ask you, little man. What possessed you to set up a relationship blog?”

I smile at my nickname. Mason is four inches shorter than me.

“You really want to know?” I ask.

“I really want to know.”

I look around to make sure we're not overheard. Not like I have anything to hide now. “Did you read the posts by Heart Huntress?”

Mason nods again.

“That was Kamryn Holt. I set up the blog as a way to kill her crush on my brother. Try to get her to go out with me instead.”

Mason looks thoughtful for a moment. That's rare, so I appreciate it when it happens. He glances toward Kamryn and Dana, who are spitting evil looks at me.

He looks back at me. “D'it work?”

I shake my head. “Not a chance. Killed my crush on
her
though.”

He grins. “Probably worth it, then.” He looks back at Kamryn and lowers his voice. “I could've told you you're wasting your time, man.”

He's not the only one.

On our way to assembly on Friday, Jon and Ryan catch up to us in the hallway.

“Hey, man,” says Jon.

I look over. “Hey.”

Jon and I don't hang out, but I've known him since grade school. He's a good guy.

“So, uh, I was Rubber Duckie.”

I smile. “No way. Really?” Right away I want to know how his conversation went with the girl on his swim team. “How'd it go? Did you manage to get her alone, without all of her friends around?”

He grins. “Yeah. I asked Coach to tell her to help me roll up the lane ropes.” He laughs. “It was a great idea. We're going to see a movie tonight. So thanks.” I shrug. “For what it's worth.”

He nods and bumps my shoulder. “Good luck.”

He and Ryan drift ahead, bobbing along with the mass of students making its way to the gym.

Good luck?

Suddenly I'm nervous. The Oracle isn't going to come up in the assembly, is it?

I find a seat at the edge of the center row of bleachers. I'm used to the stares by now. I'm surprised, however, when a few people pat me on the shoulder as they make their way up toward the higher rows.

I spot Kamryn sitting in a different set of bleachers. She's surrounded by a tight group of whispering girls. Her eyes are small and mean. I look away before they find me.

Ms. Parhar waits at the front of the gym until everyone has arrived. When the shuffling subsides, she moves behind the podium and clears her throat. Her bracelets make ringing noises as she reaches for the mic.

“LaMontagne, thank you for your presence today,” she starts. She runs through major announcements, and then the grade reps make theirs. Sports meet information. Spring fair. Then the dance team wraps it up with an awesome performance. They've put some sort of freak hip-hop king inside the mascot's costume today. The team does a great job, but Lucky the mascot steals the show. Jaws drop to see the pudgy panda popping and locking his way through Snoop Dogg. By the end of the performance, LaMontagne's student body is on its feet, cheering and clapping. The cheers turn to wild whoops when Lucky takes his head off to reveal tiny grade-ten student Lo Ming—a total nobody. She's panting, and her wet hair is stuck to her head. I imagine she's beat after five minutes of breaking inside fifteen pounds of polyester.

“Thanks to the dance team for that performance,” says Ms. Parhar once the excitement has died down and everyone has found their seats again. “I've never seen our hundred-and-eight-year-old mascot move in quite such a way.” Laughter ripples through the crowd and people glance in Lo Ming's direction. She bobs her head once in acknowledgment. One of the dance team pats her back.

She's not going to be a nobody anymore.

That's the funny thing. All it takes is one notable deed, and everlasting notoriety is yours.

Whether you want it or not.

“The final item on today's agenda concerns an issue that has been brought to my attention by one of LaMontagne's middle-school students,” says Ms. Parhar. “It involves enough of the student body that the staff felt it was appropriate to address at an assembly.” As she speaks, the gym falls quiet. The usual foot-shuffling and whispering slows until it stops entirely.

I feel eyes on me. Dozens.

Maybe hundreds.

Is
this about me?

I don't dare look toward the principal. I lock my eyes on the head of the person in front of me. I wait for her skull to start smoking.

“A blog has been brought to our attention. It appears that this website is attempting to mislead others in the area of personal relationships.”

My stomach drops.

This
is
about the Oracle.

Chapter Thirteen

A rush of whispers breaks out as people speculate about who squealed.

“These are very serious charges,” says Ms. Parhar. “The word
fraud
has been suggested.”

The whispers swell to shocked murmurs.

My head suddenly feels too light. There's a squeezing sensation at the back of my brain. Fraud? That's punishable by time in jail. Surely I haven't done anything so bad?

Hannah's words come back to me.
You could get in big trouble if this ever
gets out, Owen.

“Without getting overly involved in an issue we as a staff know little about,” Ms. Parhar continues, “we thought it would be best to invite the Oracle's administrator, Owen Roberts, to address these charges against him. And then we'll open the floor to other LaMontagne students. Owen?” Ms. Parhar scans the audience.

Somehow my legs stand me up. All around me, people are talking. No one is bothering to whisper. I'm glad. It's much easier to walk for twenty seconds through a hubbub than through pin-drop silence when everyone's eyes are on you.

I feel like I'm not even inside my body as I walk toward the front of the gym. I just kind of float there.

No one knows who ratted. Except for me.

And Hannah can probably guess.

I search her out among the grade eights. Our eyes meet, but then she looks away. I shouldn't be surprised.

I built this fire. And I'm going to burn alone.

My eyes travel back to Kamryn. She's sitting straight-backed on the bench with her arms folded tightly across her chest. A sour little smile plays across her face.

And then I'm standing beside Ms. Parhar. She steps to the side so I can stand behind the microphone. Everyone watches me, and it's quiet again. They expect something.

I swallow.

I'm glad I made a pit stop in the john just before break.

I lean into the mic and say exactly that, because I can't think of anything else.

The whole school erupts into laughter, and I feel myself relax. A lot of people are smiling. I pull my courage from them and start.

“I don't really have a lot to say,” I say.

“That's a first!” someone calls. More laughter.

I smile. “I'll just tell you the truth. This is already as embarrassing as it could possibly get anyway. I started the Oracle for my own purposes,” I say. “I wanted to, uh, I wanted to show someone I liked them.” I clear my throat. “And I guess I was too shy to tell her in person, so I set up a blog to trick her into liking me.”

Someone sets up a wolf whistle, and a few laughs drift toward me.

“Anyway, that plan backfired,” I say. “I embarrassed her and hurt her feelings, and I feel really bad about that.”

A group of grade-six girls sets up a little chorus of “
awwwwww
,” and everyone laughs again.

I look over at Kamryn. I'm sure she'll want to kill me for identifying her, but I'm willing to take the risk. She's already called me out. I don't have anything else to lose.

“I'm sorry,” I say to her. “I really am. It was a dumb thing to do.”

Faces turn in Kamryn's direction. She stares stonily ahead, ignoring them. I'm sure this isn't what she had in mind.

“And I'm sorry to everyone else,” I say. “Because I guess I tricked you too. Into thinking that the Oracle was a trustworthy site for advice.” I drop my eyes to the floor. It's too hard to look into people's faces when I'm admitting what a mess I've made.

The murmurs start up again.

“Wait.” A voice rises above all the others. “I want to say something.” I look up to see Hannah picking her way down her row.

Ms. Parhar leans back toward the mic to introduce the next speaker. “Hannah Cho, president of our middle-school student council, would like to have a few words.”

Hannah jumps down from the stairs and walks briskly across the gym floor to stand beside me. She reaches up and pulls the mic off the stand. She's used to talking to a gym full of people.

“I've watched the Oracle grow from the start,” Hannah says. “And I know for a fact that Owen took every question seriously. He worked hard to figure out the best answer for each person who wrote in.”

I stare. This was the last thing I expected from Hannah.

“He stayed up late a lot of times so he could finish answering questions. He used more than one source when he put together his answers. He did an amazing job.” She takes a deep breath. “And if you're wondering how I know all this… it's because I helped him.”

Okay, correction.
This
was the last thing I expected from Hannah.