My phone was ringing. I rolled over and knocked half the stuff off my nightstand before finding it.
“’Lo?”
“Tony?”
I sat up, rubbing my eyes and yawning. “Hope? What time is it?”
“It’s nine thirty at night, you jackass. Were you asleep already?”
I glanced at the bedside clock and then at myself, lying on top of my sheets and fully clothed.
“No.”
Hope sucked in a long breath and then dropped her voice. “Look, Tony. I know it was you. I know you put my name and address and phone number all over the Internet.”
I wanted to feel proud of myself, but I was still confused and sleep-addled, somehow hoping that Hope was calling to apologize for spreading the rumor, for reading my poems out loud.
“You have to take it off.”
“What?”
“My name. My picture. My info. You have to take it off the Internet, Tony. Right now.”
The shrill tone of her voice cut through my fog and right down to my anger. “Why would I do that?”
“It’s not fair.”
“Like you humiliating me in front of the entire school?”
“You dumped me, remember?” Her voice was a tight snarl.
I was too angry to reconsider, to be taken aback. “And reading my letters out loud to your fan base? What the hell, Hope? What did I do to you? I thought we were good.” I could feel the lump forming in my throat, and I tried to get angry again but couldn’t. “You told me you loved me.”
Hope paused for a beat. Her voice was soft. “Please, Tony.”
“Please what?”
“Take my information off the Internet.”
I was rubbing my temples, shaking my head. “You deserve whatever you get, Hope.”
“Please!” Her voice was shrill but this time with a soft, quavering edge. “People have been calling me.”
That made me smile. “And dropping shit off on your porch. I don’t care. Just like you apparently didn’t care about my feelings before you—”
“I think someone followed me home.” There was a hint of desperation in her voice, but Hope could turn her emotions at the snap of a finger. She was an expert at getting what she wanted, going from cheerful and bubbly one moment to a sobbing, heart-wrenching mess the next. She was good.
“I’m sure it’s probably one of your many admirers. Good night.”
“No, please. Please, take everything down. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry and I think someone has been following me and I’m really scared. What if some psycho got my address off the Internet and is stalking me?”
I rolled my eyes. “Good-bye, Hope.”
“Tony!”
It sounded like Hope had dropped the phone, probably kicking it for dramatic effect. Then I heard it: a scuffle.
The low grumble of a male voice.
A sharp no from Hope.
Arguing.
A faint scream. The eek of wheels peeling out. And then nothing.