Chapter 10
Dulsie’s today tattoo was a giant green crocodile with a jawbone that she’d stretched down under her chin and onto the hollow of her chest bones, so that when she raised her chin and kept her mouth closed it looked like she was wearing a giant, open mouth. Being Dulsie, she never kept her mouth closed long enough for the illusion to properly take effect.
“Guess what?” she asked. “I joined your group.”
“Group?” I said. I wasn’t sure that Granddad Angus and I qualified as a group.
“On Facebook. Your sea monster group. I joined.”
Dulsie pulled out her laptop and showed me the Facebook page.
“I didn’t do this,” I said, kind of wishing I had. “Who set this up?”
“I don’t know,” Dulsie said with a shrug. “Somebody set it up using a fake name.”
“How do you know it’s a fake name?” I asked. “A lot of people have strange names.”
“You’ve met somebody named Seethe C. Monster, have you?” Dulsie asked.
“Well, you never know,” I argued, even though I didn’t really believe it myself.
So far, the group had 382 members. They were calling our monster “Fogopogo, the beast of Deeper Harbour.” Fogo was an island just off of the northern coast of Newfoundland, a long way away from Deeper Harbour. Still, at least they got the “pogo” right.
“Who would do this?” I asked. “Do you think it could be your dad?”
Dulsie laughed at that.
“My dad thinks that computers are the cause of global warming,” Dulsie said. “He really doesn’t trust them. He’s a diehard stamp collector and I think he resents the idea that email will replace postage stamps.”
“A stamp collector?” I said.
I had never known that about Warren before.
“It’s a dad thing, I think,” Dulsie said. “Maybe your grandfather did this?”
I looked at the screen again. I tried to picture Granddad Angus setting up a Facebook page, which was even harder to believe in than a sea monster. As far as Granddad Angus was concerned, websites were somewhere spiders hung out.
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“Well, somebody started it,” Dulsie said.
It could have been anyone. Ever since we’d decided to give Deeper Harbour a sea monster, word had really gotten around. Warren had talked to his dart team and Granddad Angus had been telling sea monster stories over at the church bingo hall. I’d heard people talking about sea monster sightings at Nora’s Diner, too. Spreading rumours really was like spreading a cold, and we were sneezing on more people every day.
“That’s nothing,” I said. “The Deeper Harbour police just reported a sea monster in the harbour.”
“Your dad saw Fogopogo?”
“Dad didn’t see a thing. I waited until he was out of the office to use his email.”
“You didn’t,” Dulsie said, raising her eyebrows.
“I asked his permission,” I said.
“You asked his permission to send out a sea monster report?”
“No, I asked his permission to send some emails. He said okay just as long as I didn’t download a bunch of games. Which I didn’t.”
I felt bad lying to Dad, but it was for his own good. If I could get tourists to come to Deeper Harbour, maybe I could stay here with him.
“Is your computer broken?”
“My computer’s fine. I just wanted the report to come from somebody with authority.”
“Your dad has authority?”
“His email address has authority. I figure if more people spread the word about Fogopogo, then more people are likely to believe in it. And who would be more believable than the chief of police?”
I had sent a message saying that the Deeper Harbour Police Department was flooded with sea monster reports to every address on my list, and made sure the replies would come to my own email address.
“What if he finds out?” Dulsie asked. “Don’t you think people will ask him about it?”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But I think he’d have to agree that I’m doing it for a good cause.”
“You’re sure about that, are you?”
“Mostly sure,” I admitted. “More sure of Dad than I am of Mom.”
“You’ve used your mom’s email, too?”
“I’m going to. People are bound to listen if they start getting messages from the mayor’s office, aren’t they?”
“She’ll find out, Roland. There’s no way she won’t find out. She’s the mayor, for crying out loud.”
“She announced that she’s resigning last night,” I said. “She’s busy worrying about her new job and packing and all that foolishness. Besides, it’s her fault for coming up with the idea of moving to Ottawa in the first place.”
“She’s still your mother,” Dulsie said. “And she is the mayor.”
“So what? I hate her. And besides, she won’t be the town mayor for much longer. I hate her,” I repeated.
Dulsie thought about that.
“It seems to me that having any kind of mom beats having a dead one,” Dulsie said—and then she closed her mouth and showed me that open-jawed green crocodile tattoo. She turned her back and walked away. I wanted to go after her and tell her I was sorry, but what good would that do?
It couldn’t bring her mom back, now could it?
Besides, I really did hate my mom.
Didn’t I?
I reminded myself of that fact two hours later when I was standing in Mom’s office talking to her.
“Mom?” I asked. “Do you mind if I use your computer?”
I told her the same story I’d told Dad. Mom was just as easy to fool. She felt bad about springing the Ottawa news on me. She left me alone with the computer and I sent more emails—directly from the mayor’s office.
Just like spreading a cold—achoo!
Gesundheit.