The Oracle Rebounds (5 page)

The Don’ts:

•  Don’t give out your phone number or call him until after you’ve met him, unless you have a block up so he can’t see your phone number.
  
•  Don’t meet on a Friday or Saturday night. Those nights are prized, and people generally stay out later, which makes it awkward if it’s a bad date and you want to go home early.
  
•  Don’t give him your full name until after he’s met your approval. Create a separate email account for guys you meet online.
  
•  Don’t let your date see where you live.
  
•  Don’t get into his car.
  

There must be more, but that’s all I can put together for now. I hope it’s enough to save Tracey from potential predators. I email her the blog and post it on my website, and none too soon. It turns out Tracey intends to go on a coffee date on Saturday afternoon with a guy who calls himself “Iced Mocha.” I am beside myself with anticipation. I offer to go to the café and keep an eye on things, but she says no, that would make her more nervous.

Too bad, because I’d love to put on a hat and sunglasses and play the spy. On second thought, maybe Mom and Erland were right; I need to get out more.

11 Days into Rebound Equation

Wednesday-morning pep rally. I’m sitting with my friends at the back of the gym. Sports teams are strutting in front of us while silly mascots are jumping and clapping, as if we care. We would totally sneak out if the teachers weren’t watching the doors. It’s not that I hate my school, but I don’t feel a major allegiance to it. Which I suppose isn’t good, considering I’m on student council.

“You wouldn’t believe what my mom did,” I say. “It’s totally heinous.”

“She read your diary!” Sharese says.

“I don’t have a diary.”

“She caught you sexting!” Amy declares.

“I don’t sext. That’s your thing.”

My friends are poised for the news. When I say the words
exchange student,
they shake their heads in disgust.

“I hope you guys will help me entertain him. You will, right?”

“Him?”
Amy’s eyebrows go up. “Your mom is awesome.”
The wave comes our way and we fling our arms upward. “She’s obviously hoping to get you some action.”

“Yeah, right! That is so not my mom.”

“That is so your mom. She knows you need a man. We all know it.”

“Well, I did find it odd that she’s letting him sleep in my room.” I watch their eyes widen. “I’m kidding!”

“My parents would never allow a guy who’s not family to stay at my house,” Viv says. “Especially a French guy. Don’t they all sleep around over there?”

“You can’t generalize like that,” Amy says. “You can only generalize that French guys are skinny. But Kayla doesn’t mind skinny.”

“Maybe I do. It depends on the guy.”

I refrain from saying that Jared wasn’t skinny, he was all lean muscle. I scan the gym, spotting Jared with a couple of guys and a girl at the other end. The girl is a senior named Chelsea Yang. Pretty. Cheerleader. Debate club.

Oh, my God. Chelsea Yang is moving in! My girl radar is certain of it.

I feel a hand on my arm. It’s Viv. She knows what I’m thinking.

So does Ryan. “You’ve raised his market value, Kayla. Before you, Chelsea never would’ve been interested. But you’ve made him an acceptable choice.”

“I did?” I am not cool with this. I took a chance on him, and now other girls know that he’s boyfriend material? No, thank you.

“I bet Chelsea’s been waiting for you to break up this whole time,” Amy says.

“But why would she be interested in Jared? Wasn’t she dating Michael from student council for ages? Jared isn’t her type.”

“He wasn’t your type either, or so you thought,” Sharese says. “Things change.”

“I can’t believe this.” Somehow my relationship with Jared has made him a desirable dating choice.

“She’s no you, Kayla,” Viv says. “Remember that.”

“Thanks.” But the bleak future is flashing before my eyes. Jared will get together with Chelsea. She will be less clingy, less melodramatic, and an altogether better girlfriend than I was. They will go to prom together, elope to Vegas, then go off to college and share one of those married couple dorm rooms which I’ve always thought were so cozy and romantic.

This line of thought is not working for me. “I’m going to the bathroom.” I get up quickly before one of my friends can offer to join me.

I hurry there, expecting to burst into tears. But the tears don’t come. Sadness seems to be locked in my throat. I’m standing at the sink, looking at myself in the mirror.
How could you do this to me, Jared, when you promised to never hurt me?

I force myself to breathe in and out until I feel calm again. I finally straighten and leave the bathroom. When I go back into the gym, I refuse to look in Jared’s direction.
Rebound,
I tell myself. I’ve got to move on.

That night I write a blog called
A Viable Option,
discussing the idea that who you’re seen dating determines who will consider dating you next. I’m still reeling at the fact that go-getter Chelsea Yang may be going for Jared.

Or was she around the whole time? Were she and Jared secretly friends, just waiting for me to be out of the picture before they became more?

I try to banish the thought. Unless I’m faced with evidence to the contrary, I’m going to believe Jared didn’t dump me for another girl.

Still, I have to wonder about what Ryan said—that I somehow raised Jared’s stature by dating him for so long. But why? He dated Brooke before me, the most popular girl in school. She’s the one who made him a viable option, not me.

Or maybe not. She dumped him, claiming he was a jerk for demanding sex. But the truth was, it was just a ploy to make her break up with him. I suppose Jared might’ve remained a dating no-no if I hadn’t scooped him up after that.

When you think about it, the fact that Jared and I stayed together for six months showed Chelsea and all the other girls at school that Jared was a keeper. And, damn it, we probably looked happy. Because we
were
happy. At least, I thought we were. I still don’t know when that changed.

I wish it worked both ways. I wish there was a group of gorgeous, dangerous (but not really) guys waiting for Jared and me to break up so they could ask me out. But no one has, and frankly, that type of guy doesn’t seem to exist except in Jared.

Thank God for my business. At least I have something to focus my energies on. I decide that instead of draining my bank account on paid advertising, I’ll visit some teen blogs. I contact several popular sites. Within a few days I hear back from most of them, and five say they’d be happy to have me. Four of them ask me to write guest blogs, and the fifth asks me to answer a question submitted by a reader.

I start work on the four blogs. None of them has given me a deadline, but I’d like to put all of them out over the next month. The blogger who asked me to answer a reader’s question puts out an open call for questions for the Oracle of Dating. Her website, teenmoi, must be really popular, because I get an extra sixty hits the day she mentions me in her blog.

When Amy tells me about a house party happening on Friday night, I decide it’s time to leave the computer and go out for a change. And then I find out that my friends can’t go. At least, Ryan and Sharese can’t go. Viv isn’t interested. She can’t see why we’d go to a party when we don’t even know Tara Franklin, the senior who’s hosting it.

Thankfully, Viv responds to pressure. So I tell her how I really need to get out and how it would be awkward to go with just Amy and Chad, and Viv caves. Booyah!

“You have to introduce Kayla and Viv to your soccer buddies,” Amy says to Chad on the subway there.

“No probs.” Chad is an easygoing guy with a cute face and soccer bod. He seems happy to leave it to Amy to do all the talking and decision-making. I’ve never really understood why he and Amy have been together so long—it must be two years by now. I think the passion wore off a while ago. Plus, Amy often flirts with other guys, and sometimes takes it into the realm of cheating. I don’t know why she has a boyfriend when she seems to enjoy playing the field so much.

I check my hair and makeup in my compact. I braved the straightening iron—something I don’t do lightly—and successfully glammed up my makeup without looking like a showgirl. The hour I spent putting myself together was worth it. I’ll be able to walk into the party with confidence.

Tara’s house is on a swanky block in Brooklyn Heights. When we get there it’s around ten, and the place is pumping. A random kid answers the door. The inside of the house is posh, with mainly black furniture, white walls and expensive-looking artwork. I can’t imagine why anyone who lives in such a nice place would have a house party, since the term itself is synonymous with destruction. But that’s not my problem.

We’re instantly swept into the crowd. I find myself surrounded by beer bottles and people I vaguely know. I’m glad
that Viv is by my side because Amy and Chad have gone missing. Rock is blaring from speakers throughout the house, making it difficult for us to hear each other.

Amy and Chad are back, slipping cold beers into our hands. I nod my head to the music. Half a beer later, I’m slipping into a happy mood where nothing can touch me.

Okay, maybe not. I spot Jared’s friend Tom in the kitchen with his girlfriend. We say hi, and that’s it. But it sucks because Jared’s in my head now. I wonder if there’s any chance he’ll show up tonight. Maybe he will, now that he’s newly single. I half hope he will, because I want him to see that I’m out having fun.

Damn it, I don’t need to be reminded of Jared when I’m trying my best to have a good time!

I look over at Amy. I’ve never seen someone so hell-bent on letting loose at parties. I could understand if she were reserved and repressed most of the time, but she’s far from it. Right now she and Chad are dancing—well,
she’s
dancing, and he’s standing above her enjoying the show. In fact, she’s dancing in a way that makes certain every guy within a ten-yard radius is noticing her. Chad’s catching their looks and trying to stare them down one by one, but it’s not enough. It will never be enough. When Amy wants attention, she gets it.

After a while Chad and Amy get tired of dancing and return to us. They come bearing gifts: more beer and Chad’s soccer teammates Greg and Sandeep. I don’t dare a glance at Viv, but I know we’re thinking the same thing: these guys are HOT, and one of them is Indian! That’s when our good time goes into high gear.

Beautifully built, with Mario Lopez dimples, Greg is a senior at Madison High School. Although it’s hard to hear everything he’s saying, I know we’re getting along super well. Our body language is hot, too. Greg’s hand is propped on the
wall behind me, creating an intimate cocoon. Anyone watching would say he’s definitely into me.

He leans in, inhaling deeply. “I love that perfume.”

“Thanks, it’s Happy Heart.”

He nuzzles my neck, making an
mmm
sound. I shiver.

“I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone tonight,” he says.

“Neither was I.” Which is true. I was
hoping,
but not expecting.

His lips brush against mine, and we’re kissing, slow and hot. A voice in my head, the Oracle’s voice, tells me this isn’t going to lead to a lasting relationship. But what the hell? I can have some fun.

Out of the corner of my eye, I’m aware that Tom Leeson is walking by. Maybe he’ll report this back to Jared. I hope he does. I want Jared to know I’m moving on.

At some point I realize I’m officially drunk. There’s no doubt about it because (a) my head is swimming, and (b) I’ve totally lost track of my friends. Did Viv tell me that she and Sandeep were going to dance? Have Amy and Chad gone to grab a bite to eat? I can’t remember.

“You wanna go upstairs?” Greg asks. The sexy dimples float in front of my face.

“Sure, but I’m not going to…you know.”

He takes my hand and we go upstairs. Although I’m drunk, I’m not clueless as to what’s happening. I know that I’m going to make out with him, but that I’m going to keep my clothes on. I have strictly defined boundaries. Jared always respected that.

We end up in a guest bedroom. It’s so classy and neat that I don’t want to rumple the duvet, but Greg says we’ll straighten it up later. He whips his shirt off and starts kissing me on the bed. I kiss him back. “You’re a wildcat,” he whispers in my ear. “Let’s get naked.” He starts tugging at my shirt.

I stiffen. “I just want to, you know, kiss.”

“Oh, come on. We could’ve done that downstairs.”

God, this isn’t romantic. “I’m keeping my clothes on.”

“Fine, whatever you say.” He’s back to kissing me. I get comfortable again, relaxing beside him.

Then his hand slides into my jeans.

“Whoa.” I pull back. “What was that?”

“What? I wasn’t taking your clothes off.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Come on, just relax, Kate.”

I roll away, sitting up. “Kayla.”

“Sorry.” He grins. “I don’t want to pressure you, Kayla.”

“Well, that’s what you’re doing!”

He shakes his head at me. “You’re a tease.”

“No, I’m not. You’re a manipulative predator who preys on vulnerable women!”

“Crazy bitch!” He puts his shirt back on and storms out.

I burst into tears. What the hell was I thinking?

Oh, God. I think I’m going to throw up.

I feel like crap.

I’m so sick and depressed that I stay in bed most of the next day. I can handle the hangover. What I can’t handle is the situation I put myself in last night. I trusted a guy I didn’t know.

I can’t even remember how much I drank. Thank God I’d had enough clarity to tell him to back off. What if I’d been too drunk to stop him? What if I’d passed out? Would he have had sex with me anyway?

Damn it, I’ve always prided myself on being too smart to get into a situation like that. And yet that one slip almost resulted in disaster.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Is this what the breakup with Jared has done to me? Made me into an idiot? Forget that!

I drag myself out of bed and go to the computer. I know what I have to do.

Warning: When You Are Vulnerable, the Vultures Will Move In

I wish I could say that when you are feeling low, the arms of the universe will wrap around you and protect you. But it doesn’t always work that way.

The universe offers you the opportunity to pick your direction: healing or self-destruction.

When we are going through difficult times, many of us make big mistakes. Some teens experiment with drugs. Some turn to sex. Some turn to alcohol.

While any of these might give you temporary relief, they will only increase your pain in the long run. In fact, you are likely to end up in a situation far worse than the one you started out in.

When you are vulnerable, you attract predators. People who will try to have sex with you. People who will offer you drugs. People who will help you screw up your life in any number of ways.

So the next time you are feeling low, keep this in mind: it could get worse. Don’t let it.

Don’t choose self-destruction. You deserve better.