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.