Oracle (2 page)

Write an article in the newspaper about how Kyle sucks. (Who reads the newspaper?)

Make an announcement on the radio about how Kyle sucks. (Really? Stupid.)

Buy ad time on tv and make an ad about how Kyle sucks. (Really? Really
really?
)

Make a YouTube video about how Kyle sucks. (Too revealing.)

Write Kamryn a note about how Kyle sucks. (Possible. But she'll know it's from someone who's jealous. And even if a single note was enough to convince her—which it wouldn't be—how do I take the next step of showing her that I'm the right guy?)

Write Kamryn a poem about the kind of guy who's perfect for her. (This is more promising. Girls go for poems. Don't they?)

No, not a poem. Not a note. A conversation. There has to be a way to engage Kamryn in some sort of back-and-forth. Then I can reel her in slowly. Get her to fall for me, without giving away my identity.

At least, not until I've got her, hook, line and sinker.

I think about my options here.

Post on a blog that she reads and get her interested enough to leave a comment? Could I start the conversation that way?

But how do I know what she reads? Her Facebook page isn't public, so I can't see her Likes. I don't know which websites she reads. Which means I have to catch her attention—and keep her interested—with something new.

A website where…where what? What would interest an eighth-grade girl enough to keep her checking every day? Shoes? Clothes? Makeup? I don't know anything about that stuff.

Huh. What about relationships? I can probably make that stuff up.

Okay. Plan C.

Set up an anonymous blog and write a bunch of posts about relationships at my school. Write the blog like someone who can see the future. Get people excited about it so that lots of them read it. And come to depend on it for advice.

And then, through the blog, I'll convince Kamryn that I'm a better option than Kyle.

I look around, excited. I think this could work!

I need to think of a name.

I think about the Big Idea, like teachers always tell you to do. I need a great name that tells people what kind of blog it is. It needs to say that it's a place to go for advice on relationships, looking into the future. The name should make people think of a crystal ball, but with more practical suggestions.

I need something catchy, easy to say and easy to remember.

Wizard? Nah. Wizards create magic. They don't give advice.

Muse? No. I'm not going to be inspiring people.

Mystic? That sounds like I should be handing out green tea and crystals.

I play with the words for a few more minutes, until the perfect one arrives. When it finally drops into my mind, I get one of those powerful full-body shivers.

Oracle.

I grin suddenly and spook a small child walking through the parking lot. He stares.

I stand and fire my milk carton into the garbage.

Let the games begin.

Chapter Three

I settle into my chair and open up my laptop. I set up my blog name.
Oracle.

I set up the About page with a picture of an ancient temple. Then I write my bio. I'm careful to keep it anonymous while still letting it be known that I'm a member of the school community.

By day, I'm a student at LaMontagne.
You know me, but I know you even better. Call me the Oracle. Here's where
you'll find direction in life and love at
LaMontagne.

I pause. Yeah, but how do I give that direction? How do I get people to leave comments so that I can get the conversation started?

I start typing again.
Want to find
your soul mate? Wondering how
to make that cute guy or girl fall
head over heels for you? Need tips
to get that first conversation started? Ask the Oracle.

I decide to write a post and then answer it with a comment. Then it'll look like someone has already asked the Oracle questions.

So, then, I'll post about…what?

My shoulders slump. I've hit a wall. I can't just make up stories about the people at LaMontagne. I can't use names. I can't write about my own situation, because I'll give myself away.

I type
relationship advice
into Google. Twenty-nine million hits! I dive in and read Q&As on different websites. After a few minutes of reading, I find a question that will work perfectly.
My boyfriend and I have been going out
for five months. We used to talk all the time. Now he doesn't return my calls. He says
he's just busy with soccer season. Should
I keep calling him?

I don't even need to read the answer to know that the guy's trying to tell her it's over.

This is so easy! I can basically copy and paste questions and answers. This won't take me very long at all.

I click on
New Post
. My grin slides off my face when the hole in my plan becomes obvious.

I can't keep posting random questions and answering them. If I want this thing to get off the ground, I have to find a way to get
other
people to submit questions.

Which is impossible, since no one knows the blog exists.

I sigh in frustration. How can this be so complicated?

I stand up, suddenly needing to get out of here. I slip on a hoodie and stuff my phone into my pocket. I grab my skateboard and a couple of bucks for a Slurpee.

When the going gets tough, I go for a skate.

I'm still stumped when I roll into the 7-Eleven.

I kick up my board with one hand and grab for the door handle with the other.

I yank the door open without looking. From inside the store comes the sound of girls chattering.

By the time I feel the weight of someone leaning on the other side of the door, it's already halfway open. I stagger backward as someone crashes into my chest.

“
Oof!
” My breath punches out of me. Reflexively, my arms come up. I drop my board. It clatters to the concrete. Cold slushy stuff hits my arm and stomach. I find myself in an unexpected hug with I'm-not-sure-who. The Slurpee on my shirt soaks through, freezing my stomach against whoever I'm now holding in my arms.

The chatter turns to gasps.

“Oh my god! Kamryn!” a girl's voice shrieks. “Are you okay?”

Kamryn
? Oh
crap.

I shrink back like I've been burned. In my clumsy scramble to push our bodies apart, my hands land on something soft. Really soft.

Kamryn squeals in outrage.

I realize in horror where my palms have landed.

“Sorry! I'm sorry!” I shout. I snatch my hands away, upsetting her balance again. She stumbles forward, and our heads bonk. Oh my god, could this get any worse?

Dana grabs for Kamryn to steady her. She narrows her eyes at me. “Look where you're going, you
idiot
,” she sneers.

The air is filled with exclamations as Kamryn's friends flutter around her. They throw me dirty scowls.

Her balance finally restored, Kamryn glares at me. If she never noticed me before, she'll sure remember me now. She smooths her hair back, her chin jutting. “Don't you
ever
touch me again,” she hisses. Her glare could break apart diamonds.

“I wasn't…” I fumble. “I didn't mean…” I shake my head and take a step back.

My foot lands on my skateboard. The wheels engage, sliding easily along the concrete. I go sprawling backward. My leg overcompensates, pushing the board forward. Horrified, I watch as it shoots out from under me and slams into Kamryn's shin. She gasps and clutches at her leg.

Apparently, it
can
get worse.

Kamryn's eyes narrow into sharp slits of glittering green. She is just getting ready to slay me when the door behind her opens.

“Owen. Hey.” I look up to see Hannah, the president of the student council. She looks surprised but wary. “Everything okay?”

Kamryn straightens and glances at Hannah. She doesn't say whatever she'd planned to say to me. Not in front of Hannah, at least. Everyone likes Hannah. She's always nice, always honest, but funny and cool at the same time. People want her to think well of them.

Kamryn gives me a final glare. Her friends close around her, and they move away, talking. Kamryn is waving her hands and shaking her head. I'm sure she's telling everyone how stupid I am for opening the door.

Never mind that she was leaning on it, not looking where she was going.

Hannah watches the receding group. “What was that all about?”

I shake my head. “She crashed into me when I opened the door,” I say. “And now she's got a full hate-on for me.”

Hannah sighs. “I wouldn't worry about it too much, Owen,” she says. “It's pretty hard to stay in Kamryn's good books.”

She sticks a hand out, and I take it. “Thanks,” I say. She pulls me up, and I dust off my butt. My shirt is cold and wet, and it sticks to my stomach. Gross.

But as I look at Hannah, it hits me. I think I've found a solution to my problem.

Chapter Four

“Tell me again why you're doing this?” Hannah asks.

I upend my board and grab it by the trucks. We climb the front stairs of my house. “'Cause. It'll be fun.” I jiggle my key in the old brass lock. The door swings open, and I step into the entryway.

Hannah doesn't follow. She stays on the doorstep, arms folded. “Owen.” Only Hannah has that way of saying my name. “Flash mobs are fun. Parasailing is fun. But writing a relationship blog? This doesn't sound like you. What's going on?”

Crap. She's not buying it. She'll laugh if I tell her the real reason behind the Oracle. Especially after what she witnessed today.

I shrug. “I want to see how many people I can get to read it.” I motion for her to come in. She stands in the doorway, stubbornly.

I sigh and push her out of the way so I can close the door. Hannah's not someone most people can push out of the way. But I can. We've been friends since our mothers met at baby music class thirteen years ago. I've seen Hannah barf all down her best dress. She's seen me pee my pants. Twice.

Hannah furrows her dark brows. “You want to see how many people read it?” she repeats. “Really? Owen, when was the last time you wrote more than ten words in a row? What's with the sudden urge to host an entire”—she looks for the right word—“gossip blog for our school?”

I put my arm around her shoulders. “I don't plan to do it all alone,” I say. “You're going to help me.”

“I'm going to help you?” She looks at me like I'm speaking Finnish. “I haven't agreed to anything.”

“Ah, but you're brilliant, Hannah,” I say, laying it on thick. “Your ideas are way better than mine. Your research skills are tops. Plus, you're funny.”

Never mind that I'm too lazy to make the blog happen by myself. I
need
her help to get it up and running.

I head for the kitchen. I don't want to appear desperate. I'll lose ground if she thinks it matters too much.

She follows me into the kitchen, her arms still crossed. I take two packages of cookies out of the cupboard and hand one to her. She shakes her head and takes an apple from the fruit bowl instead.

“Are you going to tell me what this is
really
all about?” she says, polishing her apple on her jeans.

I sigh. Hannah can't be dodged. She knows me way too well. I go straight to the heart of it. “Kamryn's in love with my brother.”

“So?”

“Well, Kyle's a jerk. You know that.”

“I do know that,” says Hannah. “But I don't see what a blog has to do with it.” She takes a bite of apple.

“I want to use it to steer her away from him.”

“How's that going to work?” she asks.

I shrug. “Post misleading love advice and get Kamryn to read it.”

Hannah regards me suspiciously. “What's it to you who Kamryn likes?”

Ah. This is where it gets tricky. I don't want to tell my best friend that I'm crushing hard on the most popular girl in our grade. I'm afraid she'll tell me I don't stand a chance with Kamryn. Or worse, she'll laugh. Hannah's not one to keep her opinions to herself.

I shrug again. “It's more about not letting Kyle have the satisfaction of yet another girl wasting her love on him.”

Hannah peels the sticker off the apple and flattens it on the counter. “You should let Kyle have her,” she says. “They'd be perfect for each other.”

“What do you mean?”

Hannah shrugs.

“What?” I ask again.

But she doesn't say anything else.

I say, “I think my idea could work. Plus it would be fun to get the school hooked on a relationship blog.”

“But it's bogus!” Hannah protests.

I shake my head. “Only the Kamryn-Kyle posts,” I say. “The rest of it can be legit. Real advice.”

Hannah sighs. “What if you put all that energy into skating instead, Owen? Or helping me organize the Free the Children Gala?”

“Come on,” I say. “How much fun would it be to mess with a thousand people's heads like this?”

Her eyes get a faraway look.

Good. She's thinking about it.

When she looks back at me, I raise an eyebrow. I move in for the kill. Playing on her do-gooder side. “Think of all the lives you'd be touching,” I say. “You could really help people…find love and all that.”

She tilts her head. “It
would
be kind of fun to see the response it gets.”

“So you're in?”

“I'm not saying I'll
write
anything.”

“So you're in?” I repeat, giving her leg a little nudge with my foot.

“You could get in big trouble if this ever gets out, Owen.”

“It won't. I'll make sure of it.”

Hannah looks up at the ceiling and releases a long, slow breath. When she looks back at me, there's a gleam in her eye.