Who R U Really? Read online

  Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “Way to devastate the poor boy’s ego.”

  “You said I’m not old enough to date. So I told him no.”

  “Yes, but you could’ve explained to him that you’re simply obeying your parents’ rules.”

  “Right.” I struggled to control my irritation. My hand twitched, and I doubted my decision of rejecting Tim. I held my breath to reinforce my determination.

  “Cynthia, I know you are still trying to figure things out,” Seth said, “but if you want guys to ask you out when you’re sixteen, you need to do ground work now. You need to gently say no so you don’t crush the guy. Otherwise, they won’t come near you. After that video last month and now this . . . you need to learn to be friends with guys before you can ever hope for them to date you.”

  “Well said, son.” Dad gave Seth a thumbs-up.

  “Shut up, Seth, and don’t call me Cynthia. It’s Thea.”

  And with that, I was sentenced to my room.

  ■

  A few weeks later, just before spring break, a new guy named Taylor moved into town. He didn’t waste time. He came straight up to me before English class. “Hey Thea, you want to go out with me?”

  Taylor had brown eyes, not blue like Tim’s, and they had no effect whatsoever on the rate of my heartbeat. I recalled Seth’s advice and said, “My parents won’t let me date until I’m sixteen.”

  “Okay.” Taylor slid into the seat next to me. His casual reply surprised me.

  The teacher started class and wrote a quote by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on the board. Something about the family being the main educational unit of mankind. If that was true, why was I stuck in school all day? I decided to write the quote down on the last page of my notebook along with the rest of my quote collection.

  After school, I didn’t bother telling my parents about the newest guy interest. What was the point? Sixteen seemed so far away. Besides, I’d already ruined my chances with the one guy who made my heart race.

  CHAPTER 2

  In our front yard, tender daffodils opened wide to the spring sun. I knelt in the flowerbed and tugged a weed from the dirt. But before pulling another, I lifted my chin to the sunlight and enjoyed the warmth.

  A car door slammed. Marcus, one of Seth’s drop-dead-gorgeous friends, approached me.

  “Hey, Thea. Your bro home?”

  “Yup.” I hopped up and led Marcus to the front door. Our family lived in a single level house, just like everyone else on the street. Inside, we had a small entryway that led to our family room on the left, a guest bathroom down on the right, and the rest of the house through a hallway straight ahead. We found Seth back in the kitchen, eating a piece of pizza while staring out the sliding glass doors.

  “Hey,” Marcus said. Seth spun on his heel and inhaled the rest of the pizza.

  I should have left them alone, but instead I followed them around the corner to Seth’s room. He slammed the door in my face. I pressed my ear to it and caught a few words when Marcus raised his voice while complaining about his dad. I could’ve been preparing for tonight’s school dance, the Spring Fling, but no one had asked me. I’m sure Dad would never have let me go anyhow. I wondered if Tim had asked someone else. I hated the idea of his arms draped over another girl. To distract myself from my insurmountable social problems, I followed Seth and Marcus when they left the bedroom and moved to the family room.

  “Knock it off!” Seth said. He and I had the same parents, but that’s where our similarities ended. Well, except for our red hair and the fact that we both annoyed the crap out of each other. Seth poked his finger in my shoulder. “Go away.”

  Marcus came to my rescue. “It’s okay.”

  Marcus was older than me, but I was mature. He could fall for me. Sure, he didn’t make my heart accelerate like Tim did, but Marcus ranked high on the cuteness meter. He had a deep voice, dark eyes, and self-confidence that must come with age. He and Seth played football and basketball, and they went skiing every winter. I could settle for someone handsome and considerate like Marcus.

  “Do you like computer games?” Marcus asked me.

  “Sure. Who doesn’t?”

  “Don’t be nice to her,” Seth said and poked me again. I batted his finger away.

  “Let me show her Skadi. It’ll keep her busy for days.” Marcus winked. Was the wink intended for me or my brother? Not sure.

  We headed down to the end of the hall to my room and huddled around my desk. Small, with barely enough space for my keyboard, monitor, and mouse, the desk leaned against the same wall as my bed and opposite from my door. Luckily, I had been motivated earlier to straighten my bed and pick up my laundry. Who knew a hot guy would be in here this afternoon? I moved the mouse while Marcus directed me how to log in to the game on the Internet.

  Skadi, a multiplayer online role-playing game, allowed gamers to create characters and join guilds. After joining the guilds, the characters worked both independently and together to accomplish quests. It was fun, easy, and free. Plus, if Marcus was interested, so was I.

  “Do you play this game a lot?” I asked him.

  “Sure! It’s fun.”

  “Can I join your guild? Help you with quests?”

  “Kamikaze is in charge of our guild. You’ll need to ask him.” Marcus wrote down the bizarre name, and next to it he wrote two more character names, CharlieHorse and MightyPegasus. “If you see either of my guys, open a chat box and say hey.”

  “Why do you have two characters?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I play a lot.”

  “And what’s with the crazy usernames?”

  Marcus flashed his pearly whites at me. “It’s fun to pretend and come up with extreme names. Online you can be anything you want.” He locked eyes with me, and after a few seconds, I glanced away to the keyboard. He touched my wrist, and I willed myself to meet his eyes again. “You’ll like it,” he said. “Come up with your own outrageous name, and let me know what it is!” He cocked an eyebrow, and I felt faint.

  He explained more about the game, but his hand near mine was a terrible distraction, and I hardly heard a thing he said. I wondered what would happen if I reached out and touched his fingers. Could Marcus be my one true love? Maybe someday he’d whisper sweet romantic verses to me and gently hold me in his arms. Marcus stood to leave and smiled . . . and like those crazy gum commercials, a bright spot sparkled on his teeth.

  “Have fun!” he said. My stomach fluttered. I wanted him to stay, but he and Seth left without another word. Hopefully, we could talk again later.

  Skadi wasn’t hard to figure out, but I wanted Janie and Emily to join so I’d be able to chat with people I knew while playing.

  Mom leaned into my room. “Want to help with dinner?”

  “Dinner?” I looked at the clock. “It’s already six?” The afternoon had flown by.

  “Yes, and thus the reason for dinner.” Mom moved to my desk and peered at the monitor. “What’s this?”

  “Skadi.”

  “Is this an online game?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d rather you wait and let your dad check it out and make sure it’s safe.”

  “Seriously? Seth already plays it.”

  “Seriously.” Mom bugged out her eyes. “And watch your attitude.” She left my room, and I followed her out into the hall.

  “I don’t understand what the big deal is.” I shook my head. “It’s just a game.”

  ■

  Two days later, Janie, Emily, and I discussed Skadi during lunch. “My dad gave the website his thumbs-up approval,” I said and fiddled with a french fry. “He explained to my mom that it was a role-playing game.”

  “My mom thinks it will poison my mind,” Janie said.

  “Whatever. I think it’s cool.”

  “Because Marcus thinks it’s cool . . . right?” Janie fluttered her eyelashes.

  “Maybe at first.”

  “You know,” Emily said, “they held him back i
n kindergarten, like twice.”

  Janie grimaced. “What?”

  “Really,” Emily said. “He’s like way older than everyone else in his grade.”

  “How could I not already know that?” I asked. “He practically lives at our house.”

  “And his mom died—”

  “I thought his parents were divorced?” I said.

  “Nope.” Emily shook her head. “She died a long time ago.”

  What else did I not know about Marcus?

  “It’s old news,” Emily said. “At least your parents let you play Skadi. My stone-age parents let me use the computer thirty minutes a day—for homework.”

  We huffed and shook our heads in unison. I dipped a french fry into some ketchup and passed the tray to Janie, but she waved it off. I popped the fry into my mouth and wished our parents would just let us grow up.

  CHAPTER 3

  Finally, spring break was about to start. Mom had enrolled us in a four-week series of self-defense classes at the rec center. She pulled into the parking lot and drove past a million open spots. Apparently, few people exercised on Saturday nights. Mom ultimately parked at the far end of the lot. I never understood why she always did that, but it didn’t matter. I just wanted to start the class, because once I learned some skills, I’d be able to protect myself if Josh ever got in my space again.

  Mom checked us in at the front counter, and we headed upstairs to Studio Four. A mirror covered one wall of the classroom from floor to ceiling while windows made up the other three sides of the room. An indoor running track bordered the outside of two of the glass walls. The third, along with the door, faced an area where people stretched. I would have preferred if the walls were constructed of wood instead of glass. The idea of someone watching me from the outside made my skin crawl.

  The instructors, both male, pulled mats out onto the hardwood floor. Mom hustled over and offered her help. Not me. They could do the work. The polished floorboards reflected the florescent lights from overhead. In the far corner stood some blue kick-boxing-punching-bag things shaped like men with rounded bases. I stepped toward them and caught a distinct whiff of Windex, probably from cleaning the excessive amounts of glass.

  “What are you doing?” Mom startled me from behind.

  I pointed at the blue men. “Are we going to punch these?” I asked her.

  “Probably,” she said.

  “Time to start!” one instructor called out.

  But it was the other one, who looked like he must be on steroids, who spoke to the class. “Welcome everyone,” he said with a low rumble in his tone. He pointed to the mats, and we followed his silent command to sit down. “I’m Jackson, and this is my assistant, Keith—” He motioned to the other instructor, who stood about a foot shorter than Jackson and half as wide. Keith stuck out his chin and widened his stance, but he was still a dwarf next to the super-sized Jackson. “Tonight, we will discuss situational awareness and learn a few basic defensive moves. Next class, we’ll learn escape techniques, punch-n-go tactics . . .” Jackson went on and on, explaining why our attendance was so important and how long he’d been teaching, but I found his deep husky voice way more interesting than the actual words he spoke.

  He towered close to six foot six and wore a tight black shirt that revealed every curve of his six-, no, eight-pack along his stomach. His arms hung wide because his biceps and triceps bulged so much they couldn’t lay flat against his sides. His shoulders extended three times the width of his waist, forming an upside-down triangle. If I poked him with my finger, would those muscles be hard like a rock or would they give a little? For an old guy, he was pretty buff. His salt and pepper hair was cropped short and styled with gel. And although his jawline was clean and smooth, he had a long mustache that stretched out to the sides with curled ends.

  Mom nudged me. She tapped her ear and then pointed up front.

  “Trust your instincts,” Jackson said. “When you’re in danger, you may feel a tingle along your spine. Maybe the hairs on the back of your neck will stand up and itch. Or maybe goose bumps will pop out along your arms. Pay attention to these signals. This is your body’s survival system kicking in. These instincts alert you to look around, protect yourself, and get out of the situation. Any questions?”

  Mom raised her hand, and Keith, the assistant, nodded at her. “Go ahead.”

  “How do you teach a teenager to be aware of these things?”

  Oh crap. Seriously? In front of these people? I glared at Mom. Then I pulled up my knees and buried my face in my legs.

  “A teenager will listen to you when you listen to them first,” Jackson said. “Thea, what safety issues concern you?”

  I lifted my head. It concerned me that he knew my name, but how was I supposed to say that to the instructor? Instead, I shrugged and said nothing.

  He advanced toward me. “Surely, there’s something. What concerns you, Thea?”

  “Well . . .” I avoided looking at him. “It concerns me that you know my name when I didn’t tell it to you.”

  “Good,” he said and caught my eyes. His mustache lifted, revealing bleached white teeth. “Alertness will save your life. Don’t spend time wondering how a stranger knows a detail about you. Ask.”

  Maybe this guy was okay. He didn’t humiliate me in front of everyone.

  “If your instincts are speaking to you, don’t take time to ask, just get away. So, Thea, is your gut warning you right now?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’re in a self-defense class with lots of people around. You wouldn’t risk your job by doing anything to me.”

  “So, it’s a safe environment?”

  “Yes, but I’d still like to know how you knew my name.”

  “Don’t be rude,” Mom said.

  My cheeks lit on fire.

  “She’s not,” Jackson said, defending me. “Thea, your assertiveness is good. I know your name because your mom and I spoke before class, and she told me. I’m glad you’re here this evening.”

  He directed the next comment to Mom. “She’s listening, and she’s smart. Ask her questions and be sure to listen to her answers. All you moms here tonight should make it a point to have a conversation with your daughters on the way home. Next week, we’ll explore this topic more. But for now let’s hop up and do some exercises.”

  We followed Jackson’s lead and stretched.Then Keith took over.

  “I need a volunteer to help demonstrate a few basic stances.” Keith glanced around the room and then locked on me. “Thea, come help me.”

  I hesitated, but Mom urged me forward.

  Keith showed me how to stand. He set his feet apart, his hands raised. I tried to mimic his pose, but he shook his head, reached down, and tapped my calf. I moved my foot forward a few inches.

  “Better,” he said, “now lift your elbow more.” His fingers grazed my bare skin, and a tickle ran along my forearm. “Just like that,” Keith said and turned toward the group. He walked around the room and checked everyone’s stance. Then he taught us some deflecting shots. We worked muscles I’d never used before, and I knew right away that I was going to be sore tomorrow.

  At the end of class, we grabbed our things and headed for the studio doors.

  Jackson and Keith held the double doors open for everyone.

  “So, Thea, what did you think of the class?” Keith asked.

  “It was fine.” I waved Mom forward. “Let’s go.”

  “Just fine?” Jackson angled his chin downward.

  “Yup.” I got a close-up of his crazy mustache. I wanted to ask if he trimmed it every day.

  “Don’t mind her,” Mom said. “She’s anxious to get home to play her online game.”

  Really? She talked about me like I wasn’t even there.

  “What game is that?” Keith asked.

  “Strange name: Skay-dee,” she said, mispronouncing it.

  “Mom, it’s Ska-die.”

  “Oh, y
eah,” Keith said. “I’ve heard of that. Great game, Thea.”

  “So you think it’s safe?” Mom asked.

  Oh. My. Gosh. She was killing me.

  Keith nodded his approval to her, but then spoke to me, “Do you have a crazy username like everyone else on there?”

  “ImmortalSlayer,” I said. Mom pursed her lips, but before she could spout her disapproval, Jackson chimed in.

  “That fits you,” he said, “and by the time you’re done with this class it will be more true than ever.” His mustache wiggled, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  As Mom and I left, I said, “I can’t believe you talked about me before class.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Monday night equaled family night, and while I enjoyed playing cards (hated board games), I sat at the kitchen table, distracted. Milton Bradley or Hasbro most likely created game night as a lame marketing scheme, and my parents fell for it. I stared out at the blooming dogwood tree in the backyard as the setting sun cast shades of orange and pink across the sky. I anticipated getting back online to chat with Kit more. At the end of spring break, we had connected online and had become good friends while playing Skadi. But now that we were back in school, we didn’t have as much time together.

  In Skadi, belonging to a guild appeared to be more fun than playing independently. I had tried for over two weeks to get into one, but the leaders said no when I requested to join. I even tried Marcus’s guild, but he said Kamikaze had to approve it first, and Kamikaze was never online. Maybe Marcus just didn’t want me in his guild. I knew Seth would never let me into his. So frustrating. But it didn’t matter anymore, because Kit had accepted me.

  He held the second-in-command position in his guild, and he allowed me to join. He showed me the tricks to mastering the different quests, and I enjoyed chatting with him. He confided in me and teased me.

  One of the first things Kit had said that caught my attention was that girls shouldn’t play tough sports like football. I argued the point, saying that we girls can do anything we set our minds to. We debated for quite a while, but it never got mean. I had a blast, and he listened to my opinions. We also enjoyed discussing sports like basketball and downhill skiing. I was excited to find out that he liked music, too. We both had dads who didn’t have enough time for us, but his dad was an alcoholic, and his mother had died when he was younger. Kit needed a friend, and I was happy to be there for him. Kit was his nickname because his full-length character name was Kitsuneshin. He said it was a Japanese term that meant “young fox.” Figured.