Kristin Butcher... has novel ideas

For her entire school life, Linda has been more or less invisible. Her schoolmates don't dislike her; they just don't notice her. Certain she will somehow embarrass herself if she tries to join in, she remains in the background, quietly watching life go on around her. But when her high school sets up chat rooms on its website, Linda sees an opportunity to break out of her shell. But does she go too far?

(Excerpt from Chapter 2)

“You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”

I shrugged, feeling suddenly defensive. Janice’s badgering was getting to me. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Yes, you have. You just don’t want to admit it.” She shook her head in disgust. She probably would have stalked off too if she could have, but since we were penned in by kids exiting the gym, she simply looked away.

“Why are you so against it?”

That was the wrong thing to say. Janice was in my face before I even finished the sentence.

“Have you heard anything I’ve said?”

“You don’t have to yell.”

“Apparently I do!” she retorted at full volume, drawing glances from several people. “Chat rooms are for sickos. Perverts, voyeurs, psychos – that’s who hangs out in them.”

“Shhhh,” I growled back and then through clenched teeth, I added, “You’re exaggerating.”

But Janice didn’t get the message. She ripped into me again louder than ever. “That just shows how much you know. Or should I say how much you don’t know? While you gullible little innocents are blabbing your faces off online, the crazies are lurking in the background taking it all in. Then when you least expect it, they pounce, and it’s lambs to the slaughter.”

I shook my head and pushed her away. “It isn’t that kind of a chat room. It’s on the school’s website for Pete’s sake. Do you really think the teachers and the parent council would give it the okay if it wasn’t perfectly safe? You heard Marc Solomon. It’s only open to Wellington students.”

Janice let out a huge guffaw. “So flippin’ what? You think there are no perverts at this school? Get real, Linda. Look around!”

“Yeah, like right beside you,” a guy behind us jibed. “They don’t come any more perverted than Beastly.”

Right away Janice whirled on the guy, and I had to do a quick sidestep to keep from becoming a sandwich.

“How would you like your face rearranged?” she snarled, puffing up with anger.

Janice is a pretty big girl, but the guy didn’t even flinch. In fact, he smiled. “You might want to look in the mirror, Beastly,” he drawled. “Seems to me you’re the one whose face could use some rearranging.” Encouraged by the grins and snickers of the kids around us, he added, “Have you ever considered plastic surgery? Or a paper bag maybe?”

Instant laughter from the crowd.

Instant blood boil from Janice. She lunged at the guy. The thing is he was ready for her. If you ask me, he was hoping she’d attack him. Janice’s short fuse isn’t exactly a secret, and with the way he was baiting her, he had to know it was just a matter of time before she lost her cool.

He didn’t actually hit her. It was more like she ran into his hand – at least that’s what everybody told the teacher who came to break things up. But I’m not so sure. Seems to me the guy’s fist had to have had some force behind it to make Janice double over the way she did. It served him right when she barfed all over his shoes.

On the bright side, Janice and I suddenly had a clear path out of the gym. I wasn’t crazy about being in the spotlight – it was kind of like riding on the main float in the Santa Claus parade. But since Janice was leading the way – and her aroma had people holding their noses and turning away, I was hoping they wouldn’t notice me trailing behind.

“Are you okay?” I asked, standing uselessly beside her in the girls’ washroom as she splashed water on her face and the floor.

“Yeah. I’m just dandy,” she retorted sarcastically. “I love throwing up at this time of day. It gives me more room for lunch.”

I didn’t say anything. Even though Janice had sort of brought the situation on herself, I still felt a little sorry for her. Guys aren’t supposed to hit girls. It’s an unwritten rule. Janice might not look like your usual girl and she certainly didn’t act like your usual girl, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel like a girl inside. And that boy should never have hit her.

“The guy is a jerk,” she muttered. “Exactly the type of moron you’re going to hook up with in a chat room.” Then Janice wiped her face with a paper towel and stalked out of the washroom.