My renewed motivation in trying to figure out Heath Hall’s identity was a nice distraction from the realization I’d had about my brother. The one I wasn’t sure how I was going to fix. How could I get over feeling like he was my enemy when he wasn’t even alive for me to confront? When he’d done nothing wrong.
I plopped myself in front of my computer that night, ready to set some traps for Heath Hall where he would slip into admitting something. I may have been even more motivated to figure out who Heath Hall was because of the possibility that he could be Jackson.
Did this mean . . . ? Was Amelia right? Was I crushing on him?
Our chats online had been fun and meant something to me. And our interactions in person had been . . . great.
Before I even signed into my private messages, I saw Heath Hall had announced another event for this weekend. He didn’t say exactly what would be happening, just an address and time range. That was new.
I moved on to my messages. I had no new ones. That did not disappoint me, I told myself. I analyzed each of the suspects in my mind, trying to decide which trap to lay first before I typed. A thought occurred to me.
Have any fun mental conversations with your dog lately?
Robert had a dog. How had I not thought about that until now? He didn’t respond right away. It was only six o’clock. Had Robert’s track meet gone late? Jackson. Where would he be at six o’clock at night? Eating dinner with his family, maybe.
I began scrolling back through Heath Hall’s wall. The feed went on and on. How long had he been doing this anyway? I clicked on his profile where it showed me when the account was created. I stared at that date for a long time, then subtracted the number in my head three times from the current date to make sure it was right. Five years. This Heath Hall account had existed for five years? How had I not noticed that before? I just assumed it had only been happening for a couple years because that’s when I remembered learning about it. But I was in elementary school five years ago. So were Robert and Jackson, for that matter. There was no way either of them would’ve thought of something this elaborate five years ago.
My computer dinged with a new message.
My dog is mad that I’ve been so busy. He’s sending me death glares right now but refusing to speak.
Busy? Doing what?
You know, scaling buildings, saving lives, being awesome. The usual.
Five years ago? So did that mean it wasn’t Robert or Jackson? Was he someone a little older? Robert said I knew who Heath Hall was. Had he been lying? Maybe I didn’t know him at all. Maybe he was some senior. I didn’t know many seniors very well. Mainly the ones on the swim team. I tried to think of each one, match him up with the clues and facts I knew about Heath Hall. Suddenly and with a jolt of fear, I remembered the one person I knew quite well who was actually out of high school.
DJ.
He would’ve been in the eighth grade when this account was made. And he was a smart guy, a huge reader. He could’ve thought of something like this at thirteen. Plus, he was a little closer to the guy I’d always imagined Heath Hall was: shy, kept to himself more. This didn’t totally confirm it but I was getting a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. A bit of guilt coursed through me at how I had acted around DJ at the pool the other day. And another worry burrowed its way into my mind as well. Whoever Heath Hall was, I felt a connection with him. What if it turned out to be DJ? What if it turned out to be none of the above? Someone I didn’t know at all?
What about you? he asked.
Nope, I don’t have a dog to get mad at me.
Are you not an animal fan?
How did Heath Hall always turn everything back to me? After reading through our conversations, I realized there wasn’t much he’d said about himself. Just general things. And he was doing it again.
What is going on tomorrow night? Why the vague announcement?
Are you going to come?
I don’t know yet.
You should. You missed the last one.
You noticed?
Doesn’t everybody notice you?
My fingers froze on the keyboard. Amelia may have claimed I wouldn’t know what flirting was if it slapped me in the face, but I knew that was flirting. Had my flirting with DJ in real life encouraged him to flirt with me now?
Did I scare you away? he asked.
No . . . it’s just weird because you know me and I don’t know you.
You know me.
I know a lot of people.
You soaked me and my sweater the other day.
The blood rushed from my face, leaving it numb. He just told me who he was. I couldn’t believe he just told me who he was. He was DJ . . . or Jackson. Was he talking about soaking him with pool water or tears?
Crap.
I was supposed to react now. He knew it was a big deal to tell me, and it was. And now he wanted me to react. But depending on which one of those it was, my reaction would be completely different. I mean, I really wanted it to be Jackson. I liked Jackson and I wanted him to match up with the online conversations I’d had with Heath Hall. But if I was being truthful, the masked version didn’t fit the Jackson I’d come to know. Jackson needing to put on a mask to face all of his fears, Jackson telling his fears to suck it, Jackson shaking like a leaf after showing people his painting didn’t make sense.
On the other side, the masked Heath Hall fit more with the DJ I knew in real life. He was vulnerable and shy. He was more the type that would want to hide his face when facing fears, to not draw attention to himself but the fear, as if it were everyone’s to own. Plus, the timeline made more sense. And now I’d flirted with him both online and in real life but Amelia had all but claimed him. Which was fine. I wanted her to. I didn’t like DJ like that. Sure I enjoyed the conversations we’d had online and I felt comfortable with him as a friend. I put my forehead to my keyboard. It was him and I so didn’t want it to be.
My computer dinged. You’re disappointed. It wasn’t a question.
No, I responded back, but that was all I had the chance to type before there was a knock at my door. I was glad for the interruption. I needed to think.
“Come in.”
My mom opened the door and sat down on the edge of my bed. She looked frazzled, upset. For a minute I thought she had discovered my award under my bed and wanted to apologize for missing the ceremony. But then she started talking. “A friend in Las Vegas called. Her co-organizer came down with the flu and had to go to the hospital because she couldn’t hold anything down for several days.”
I had no idea who or what she was talking about, but I figured it would all eventually make sense. “I’m sorry. Is there anything we can do?”
“The race is Saturday. As in the day after tomorrow. You know how crazy race days can be, and she just needs some experienced hands there helping things run smoothly.”
Now I understood. Mom to the rescue. “So you’re going out of town this weekend?”
“I wouldn’t because your father has business down south this weekend too, and I hate to leave you alone. But . . .”
“It’s fine, Mom. It’s two nights. I think I can survive.”
“Dad will be home late Saturday night.”
“Well, see, it’s just one night, then.”
She let out a breath of relief. “I figured you’d be fine but I just wanted to make sure. You think you could stay at Amelia’s for the weekend? That would make me feel better.”
“Sure. That sounds like fun.” I actually wasn’t sure. Her aunt was still in town, extending her stay like aunts sometimes do. But a weekend alone sounded nice. If my parents weren’t here, I didn’t have to think about our issues.
My computer dinged and I felt guilty that I hadn’t responded better.
My mom glanced at the computer. “Well, thank you. Be safe this weekend. No wild parties or anything.”
I laughed. “Okay.”
She tousled my hair, then left the room.
I turned my attention back to the computer, where the new message awaited.
I thought you’d already figured it out on your own.
Was he referring to the conversation about his dog we had out by the pool? He thought I’d figured it out and that’s why he told me? I felt sick. How was I supposed to tell him that all my flirting online wasn’t directed at him? How could I tell him that when I’d been flirting in real life too? I couldn’t tell him over the computer. Even though that’s how we’d been communicating half the time, it seemed so impersonal.
I’m not disappointed. Just overwhelmed. We’ll talk tomorrow, yes?
So you’re coming tomorrow night?
To the vague event with the address?
Yes.
I’ll be there.