Taylor Hanson logged into a chat room, not as MMMBop, but as RedJellybean.
He wasn’t stupid. He remembered full well what had happened last time he’d lied about who he was. However, he thought it’d be rude to just totally discontinue his chat room use. Instead, he was going online one last time as RedJellybean to say goodbye to anyone he had known.
He just hoped Ally wouldn’t be online.
Taylor quickly scanned the names of the people in the “room”. No Spitfire.
He began typing a general message saying that he was being punished for not doing his chores around the house and couldn’t use the Internet for a minimum of four weeks. He just hoped that in that four week period everyone would forget RedJellybean had ever existed.
As Taylor hit the talk button, the telephone rang.
It rang three times and no one picked it up, so Tay got off his bunk and started toward the phone. He picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Strike three.”
Tracy sat bolt upright in bed. Immediately, her eyes scanned her darkened bedroom and she quickly oriented herself.
It had been a dream. Taylor was safe. She had just dreamt it.
But just in case he wasn’t . . .
Tracy slid out of her bed and carefully crept out of her room. She started down the hallway and entered the small computer room. Quickly, she started up the Internet and logged onto her AOL Instant Messenger.
One of the Hanson boys were online. The screen name wasn’t MMMBop - that would be too obvious. However, it was them.
Taylor, she typed, you haven’t seen Ally, have you?
It seemed like an eternity until a message popped up. Tracy? This is Ike. I don’t think he’s talked to her. He hasn’t said anything about it. I don’t even think he’s been online since you left.
She sighed and typed in another message. What’re you doing on this late?
He replied, Checking e-mail. You?
Bad dream. Just wanted to talk to Tay. Could you tell him to write to me soon?
A minute later another message came up. He sent a letter out yesterday.
Tracy smiled. Well, I’d better get back to sleep. Night, Ike.
She logged off the Internet and left the computer room. She walked back into her bedroom and slid between the blankets. She stared up at her darkened ceiling and sighed. It was funny: a month ago, she had been convinced that she hated “Hanson”, and that she had a twin sister that she would do anything for; but now, the roles seemed to have reversed themselves. She would do anything for the Hanson brothers; anything to keep them safe.
And she hated her “sister”.
