CHATROOM
LOVE
Chapter Twenty-Three
Monday,
October 1, 2001
"We are number one! We are number one!"
Rose shouted with the other cheerleaders, then turned
a cartwheel, landing neatly on her feet. She held the pose a moment, then went
and sat down in the bleachers, relieved that cheerleading practice was almost
over. It had been a long day; in fact, just one in a series of long days.
She had taken Jack’s advice and told her mother about
the strange note, e-mail, and phone calls she had received, and had reported
them to the police, along with her suspicions. The police had been reluctant to
investigate—obnoxious notes, e-mails, and phone calls were common teenage
pranks—but they had finally questioned Cal when Rose had told them that she had
talked to him at the country club in violation of the restraining order.
Cal had been outraged that the police suspected him of
stalking Rose, and had had a reasonable alibi for every incident—although Rose
wasn’t sure of when the note had been placed in her locker. It could have been
anytime between the beginning of lunch and the end of cheerleading
tryouts—several hours time. He had claimed to have been at work for most of
that time, or at lunch with a client, and had claimed the same thing with the
e-mail and phone calls.
Since then, Rose had run across him twice, once in
A&W, where she had been picking up an after school snack before going to
cheerleading practice, and the other time at the country club, where she had
nearly run into him after playing tennis with Dawn. Cal had had excuses both
times—he had been in A&W to get something to eat, and had been playing golf
at the country club.
Both excuses were plausible enough, but Rose couldn’t
help but notice that he had arrived at both places after she had, as though he
had been following her. She had received more notes and e-mails, too—all
untraceable. The e-mails had all been sent from free addresses that had been
disabled as soon as the e-mail as sent, each with a more disturbing message
than the last, and all telling her that she was being watched.
At least there had been no more phone calls. Rose was
relieved about that. The only calls that had come in since the first incident
that had left no message on the answering machine or had no one on the other
end when she picked up had been from easily traceable telemarketers from
Ontario and Vancouver, using computers to phone.
Rose listened patiently while Mrs. Hulstrom lectured
on how they had done and what they needed to work on, then got up and headed
for the girls’ locker room to change. Dawn caught up with her as she reached
her locker.
"Hey, Rose."
"Hey. What’s going on?"
"Nothing much. You’re doing really good out
there, especially for someone who just started as a cheerleader."
"I’ve already cheered at one game, you
know."
"Yes, well…" Dawn changed to the subject that
she really wanted to ask about. "How are you doing? Have you gotten
anymore of those weird notes or e-mails?"
Rose looked away for a moment, stuffing her gym
clothes into her locker and pulling on her jeans. Finally, she looked at Dawn
and answered. "Yes. I found another one tucked into my history book this
morning."
Dawn shook her head. "Oh, Rose…do you have any
idea who’s doing this?"
"Cal."
"But, Rose, you said that the police questioned
him, and there was no way it could be him."
"It is him, Dawn. I can’t prove it—but I know
that it’s him. He could have given the notes to someone else to put in my
locker, and he could have sent the e-mails from work. It’s easy enough to get a
temporary e-mail address and then cancel it. Besides…" She hesitated.
"Besides, I think he’s been following me. Remember how he showed up at the
country club yesterday?"
"Well, you both belong to the country club. It
could have been coincidence…"
"I saw him in A&W last Thursday afternoon,
too. Why would he have gone to A&W when he has his choice of food from his
company’s cafeteria, or from any restaurant around where he works? That A&W
must be around five kilometres from where he works."
"Still, maybe he was just craving a Root Beer
milkshake or something."
"I don’t know." Rose shook her head, then
looked suspiciously at her best friend. "Why are you so intent on
defending him? Do you want him to hurt me?"
"No, Rose! Of course not! I’d rather it wasn’t
him, though. I mean…Rose, he’s dangerous. I’d rather it was just one of our stupid
classmates playing games. I mean, I’ve gotten prank calls and stupid notes on
occasion, especially since I became a cheerleader at the beginning of last
year. Some guys don’t know how to approach a girl, so they do stupid things to
try to get her attention. They should know better by this age," she mused,
"but some don’t, especially those little grade tenners."
Rose shook her head. "I wish that that was all it
was, but I think it’s more serious than that. Dumb boys usually give up if
they’re ignored—so if it is one of them, he might have more than teasing on his
mind. But I think it is Cal…the last note talked about how foolish I am to get
involved with a poor guy who got thrown out of the country club. Who else would
have known about that?"
Dawn looked at Rose, her face troubled. "I don’t
know, Rose. I really don’t know."
*****
That evening, the whole gang met at Dawn’s house to
eat pizza and watch movies. Rose sat with Jack the entire time, trying not to
think about the notes and e-mails she had been receiving. Jack asked her
whether she had received any more notes that day, but she just shrugged, not
wanting to talk about it.
At nine o’clock, Fabrizio turned on the radio, going
through the stations until he found Power 92 fm, the one that had held the contest
for the tickets to the Britney Spears concert. Helga sat back on the couch, a
mischievous grin on her face as she watched him.
"They’re about to announce who won the Britney
Spears tickets," she told the others, when they looked at them questioningly.
Dawn and Tommy nodded, then grinned slyly at Jack and
Rose, who just looked back at them oddly, wondering what was going on.
Fabrizio turned up the radio. "Quiet, everyone.
They’re announcing it now."
They quieted, listening to the announcer’s voice.
"…and the winners are Jack and Rose Dawson! Congratulations go out to the
newlywed couple."
Everyone burst out laughing, except for Jack and Rose.
As they stared at each other and at their friends in confusion, Tommy finally
told them what was going on.
"It was a practical joke, you guys. We entered
you into the contest as newlyweds. We didn’t think you’d win. We were just
gonna tell you about it later."
"What?!" Jack and Rose just stared at them.
Finally, Jack leaned closer, looking each and every
one of them in the eye. "What have you guys been smoking?"
Fabrizio and Tommy just laughed harder. "Nothing.
Nothing at all."
Finally, Rose started to laugh, too. "You guys
are strange."
"Yeah," Dawn agreed. "But you love us
anyway."
"So, Jack." Rose turned to him, resting her
head on his shoulder and giving him a puppy-dog look. "Are we going to Las
Vegas?"
"Think we can talk my aunt and uncle into it? Or
your mom?"
Rose sighed, giving him a look of mock sadness.
"You know they’ll say no. Let’s just run off to Vegas."
"Now, that’s taking peer pressure too far,"
Dawn told them, unable to suppress her laughter. "You’ll be the first ones
of us getting married."
"Hey, we never said we were getting
married," Jack protested.
"We never said we weren’t, either." Rose
punched him in the arm.
"Ow!" Jack pretended to be hurt. "What
was that for?"
By this time everyone was laughing hysterically.
"I think we better call the radio station and tell them to give the
tickets to somebody else." Fabrizio reached for the phone.
"No way!" Jack exclaimed, standing up. He
picked up Rose and swung her around. "Rose and I are running away
together!"
Rose squealed. "Jack, no! Put me down!"
She struggled, knocking him off balance and sending
both of them tumbling onto the couch in a laughing heap. The others soon joined
them, interrupted only by Dawn’s father, Roger, who looked in at the couchful
of giggling teenagers and just shook his head, muttering under his breath about
the strangeness of the younger generation.