FaceSpace Page 5

  What’s gotten into me? This could be a really bad move. But then Meg gets up and starts dancing with me. And then everyone else starts dancing too. Well, everyone but Grant.

  I don’t know why, but all of this makes me feel really good. I’m thinking, hey, just be yourself, people will be okay with that. Even if your real self is goofy.

  The party is really great. I don’t know when I’ve had such a good time. By the time Brad and I say goodbye to everyone, it’s about midnight.

  The only downer is, it turns out Grant is staying at Brad’s too. His folks are away, so they asked if Grant could sleep over. I don’t like that. For one thing, Grant still seems choked at me over the Lego City thing. Walking to Brad’s, he doesn’t talk to me. In fact, he doesn’t say much. Brad and I talk up a storm though.

  We all sleep in this room Brad says is his dad’s “man cave.” It’s got a giant flat-screen TV, a great surround-sound system and a fancy computer. We all have sleeping bags. It’s kind of like camping.

  Grant falls asleep in thirty seconds. Brad and I keep talking, but quietly, so we won’t wake up anyone.

  Then Brad falls asleep too. I sit up and look at the clock. It’s after one o’clock, but I can’t sleep yet. I’m too revved up.

  I tiptoe over to the computer and turn it on. The light is bright, so I turn it down to low. Then I log on to James’s profile page on FaceSpace. I write a new status update.

  Guys, I’m really scared. Those gangster guys? They’re following me. I don’t know what’s going on but am expecting the worst.

  Hmm. Does that sound fake? I don’t know. I start a brand-new FaceSpace page. It’s a memorial page for James. I figure I’ll begin working on it now, for when the bad guys have killed James. But after fifteen minutes, I’m so sleepy that I just slip into my sleeping bag and close my eyes.

  Chapter Ten

  I wake up hot and groggy. This isn’t my room. Then I remember that I slept at Brad’s place. We went to a party. And it’s Monday morning. I have school.

  I have a pounding headache too. I hear whispering.

  I poke my head out of the sleeping bag. Brad and Grant are in front of the computer. They almost sound like they’re having an argument. A real quiet one though.

  Uh-oh. Did I log off the computer last night?

  Brad looks over his shoulder and catches my eye.

  “Hey, Danny,” he says. He sounds strange.

  Grant turns around. He’s grinning this big, fat, stupid grin.

  “McBride. We were just looking at your memorial page for James. You know, the fake English dude you made up on FaceSpace.” He laughs this really harsh-sounding laugh. And then he kicks me right through the sleeping bag.

  “You faked this whole thing, McBride! What a loser,” he says.

  “Shut up, Grant,” says Brad. “You’re gonna wake my folks.”

  I’m getting this sinking feeling, like the whole world is collapsing. I get out of the sleeping bag and stand up, trying to see the computer screen.

  “What are you talking about, Grant?” I say, stalling for time.

  “What am I talking about? I’m talking about how you signed yourself in as James and started to write about gangsters. And now you’re making a memorial page for him? That is so friggin’ weird, McBride. You must be crazy,” he says.

  I deny everything. I mean, what am I gonna do? I’m not going to come clean in front of Grant, that’s for sure. It’s a relief when he leaves to do his paper route before school.

  After he goes, Brad looks at me.

  “What?” I say.

  “Danny,” he says. “Come on.”

  I tell Brad everything. How I made up James. How I got fake photos of him and his family’s Jaguar. How I Photoshopped him and me into the same photograph.

  “Why’d you do all that, Danny?” says Brad.

  “I dunno. I guess—oh man. I figured knowing James would make me popular. He’s cool, so maybe that would make me cool too.”

  Brad sits on a chair and lets out a low whistle. He rubs his face and looks at me again.

  “You know Grant will tell everyone at school about this,” he says.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I’m doomed. I’m toast. My life as I know it is basically over.”

  Brad smiles for the first time.

  “Hey, it’s not that bad.”

  I feel like getting back in that sleeping bag and never getting out again. Maybe I’ll go into hibernation for the rest of my life. What will the kids at school think? What will Meg think? She’s going to hate me. I know it.

  “It just seemed like everyone on FaceSpace was having more fun than me,” I finally say.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, take you. You have, like, five million friends. And you’re always doing cool stuff. Parties, hanging out with people,” I say. “I never go to parties. That one last night at Meg’s? That’s the first proper party I ever went to.”

  Brad blinks twice. So I go on.

  “You and I used to hang out all the time. Now you’re always busy with your basketball buddies.”

  It makes me feel weird to say this. Guys aren’t supposed to talk like this, right?

  “Hey, Danny. Bud. You’ve got it all wrong,” says Brad.

  “What do you mean?” I say.

  “My life is pretty much the same as yours. I go to school. I’m trying to keep up in my classes. And I’m having trouble. I haven’t got a clue what’s going on in math. I’m probably gonna fail. I haven’t even told Mom and Dad yet.”

  That surprises me. Brad was always good at school. He was always good at everything.

  “I’m not going to parties all the time. Maybe the odd one. But it’s not like it looks on FaceSpace. Everyone always posts updates that make it look like they’re having a great time. That’s not the truth. It isn’t for me anyway.”

  “Well,” I say, wiping my face with my sleeve. “You’re partying way more than me.”

  “I only go to parties because I’m on the team. If you were on the team, you’d be part of that.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’m no good in sports. That’s the problem,” I say.

  “Danny. Man, there’s all kinds of things you could join. You’re a smart guy. You’re funny. You’re a cool dude. A crazy dude, but still cool,” Brad says. He punches me on the shoulder.

  “I’m cool. Yeah, right.”

  “No man, you are. Hey, you’re my best friend. I wouldn’t have a knob for a best friend.”

  “I thought Grant was your best friend.”

  “Grant? Don’t make me laugh,” says Brad.

  “Why do you hang out with him then? Why did he stay over last night?”

  “My folks made me. Grant’s going through a tough time right now. His parents are divorcing. His mom doesn’t want him, so he’s going to move with his dad to Vancouver. And, between you and me, I don’t think his dad wants him either.”

  I know that in a few hours Grant will tell the whole school the truth about James. But, to tell the truth, I actually feel a little sorry for Grant right now.

  “Maybe I should invent a new person on FaceSpace,” I say. “Someone who could tell everyone that James is a real guy. Maybe that’s the way—”

  “Danny,” says Brad. “Come on, buddy.”

  “Yeah. Dumb idea.”

  “You’re going to have to face it. It won’t be so bad.”

  Brad punches me in the arm again. It’s funny. I feel both terrible and good at the same time.

  “Megan’s gonna think I’m a total jerk,” I say.

  “Well, she’s probably not going to be thrilled. Didn’t you send her to meet James for coffee?”

  Brad starts to laugh. It’s not really funny. In fact, it’s downright sad. But
, after a minute, I start to smile.

  Brad and I walk to school together. We chat a mile a minute, like in the old days. The sun shines. Our feet crunch through oak leaves on the sidewalk. All the while, I have this nervous feeling. I wish I could start going to a different school. Also, I start thinking how I goofed around with Brad’s photos on FaceSpace. What kind of friend am I? I’m going to change my ways.

  Chapter Eleven

  Remember when you first went to school? Like, in grade one? You’re all scared. You have that funny feeling in your gut, like a bunch of lizards are running around down there. That’s how I feel walking through the doors of my school that morning.

  It’s not so bad at first. My first class is English. Mr. Kerr is going on about adverbs, and all the other kids seem as bored as I am. Then, in between classes in the halls, I start to notice it. Kids are staring. A few are laughing.

  The word must be officially out. Danny McBride made up a fake friend on FaceSpace. To make himself popular. What a dork. What a knob. What a tool. At least, that’s what I imagine they are saying. Argh!

  At lunchtime, I see Grant and his basketball buddies in the hall near my locker. Grant is laughing, slapping one of them on the back. When he sees me, his face lights up like it’s Christmas morning.

  “There he is! McBride! Hey, doofus, where’s your imaginary friend James? You know, that super cool dude from England?” Grant yells. His freckly face is bright red. Combined with his orange hair—which sticks out all over the place—he looks almost bonkers.

  “You’re making up people on FaceSpace? What a loser!” says one of Grant’s friends.

  “Get lost, Grant,” I say, throwing my books in my locker.

  “Get lost yourself, McBride. Loser, loser!”

  Grant makes the sign of an L with his fingers, grinning like a madman. I feel like I might throw up. My face burns. My stomach gurgles. I can even hear it. Keep it together, Danny. You don’t want to upchuck in the school hallway.

  “Hey, Danny. Let’s go to lunch, bro.” Brad throws his arm around my shoulder. The crowd that has gathered starts to break up. I don’t dare look up, but I hear the voices getting fainter.

  “Brad, I can’t believe you still hang out with McBride. That guy is so incredibly lame,” says Grant.

  “Hey, it was just a prank, Grant,” I say. My voice sounds all thick. My mouth is dry and gritty, like someone dumped a spoonful of beach sand into it.

  “Prank, my butt. You—”

  “Drop it, Grant,” says Brad. “Get lost.”

  Brad sounds firm, like a teacher you can’t disobey. A look flickers over Grant’s face. For a second, I think he’s going to slug me. Or Brad. But finally Grant just shrugs and walks away.

  “Come on, Danny,” says Brad. “Let’s go.”

  In the lunchroom, everyone is whispering about me. Or, at least, that’s what I think. Two girls bend their heads toward each other, smiling. Can it get any worse?

  Yes, it can. As soon as we sit down—me with a cafeteria-bought cheese sandwich and a Coke—Megan joins Brad and me. She doesn’t look happy.

  “So is it true?” she says right away. No hello or anything.

  “What?” I say.

  “That you faked James. Set me up on a coffee date with a made-up guy. Is that true?”

  Megan looks mad. I’ve never seen her like this. Her face is all tight-looking, her mouth sort of pulled in.

  “Yeah.” I sigh and push my sandwich away. “It’s true. I’m sorry. I’m a jerk.”

  And then, for the second time that day, I tell the whole story. Well, most of it. I leave out the part where I wanted to be as popular as Brad. That would make me look like a total loser—or rather, more of one.

  Megan looks mad the whole time. She just asks these short questions, like a police interrogator on TV.

  Brad sticks up for me whenever he can, saying stuff like, “Danny just has an overactive imagination” and, “Danny’s a good guy, he just made a mistake.”

  “I feel like an idiot,” I say finally. “I guess everyone hates me.”

  Megan’s face finally goes back to normal. “No. That’s not true,” she says. “It was a pretty weird thing to do, and I’m still mad.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “Well, you should be. But don’t feel too bad. Hey, you know, my friends really liked you at my party,” says Megan.

  I’d almost forgotten about the party. It seems like a thousand years ago now.

  “Really?” I say.

  “Oh yeah. They thought you were smart and funny. And Kelly? She said she thought you were cute.”

  Cute? Me? That makes me feel better. I take a bite out of my sandwich and open my Coke can with a loud pop. Then I take a long drink. Man, I’m thirsty. Public humiliation will do that to a guy, I guess.

  As Megan leaves for her first afternoon class, she rests her hand on my shoulder for a second. Maybe I should buy her a present to say I’m sorry. What do girls like? Flowers or something. I’ll ask Scott about that. He’s the expert in the girl department.

  Brad and I have a spare block, so we don’t have to rush back to class. We talk more. Brad says maybe I should lay off the computer, stay away from FaceSpace for a week. He also says I should talk to his basketball coach. They still need a team manager, and I could probably have the job if I want it. It would be fun. I could be part of the team. I wouldn’t be a player, but we could all hang out together.

  I tell Brad I don’t want to manage any team that Grant is on. He reminds me that Grant is moving to Vancouver. I tell Brad I’ll think about it. In fact, I’ve got a lot to think about.

  The sun is still shining when I walk home after school. Today has been rough, sure enough. But it was not as terrible as I thought it was going to be. Do you ever find that? You know, you’re really dreading something. But when it actually happens, it’s not so bad after all.

  After supper, I log on to FaceSpace. First I delete James’s profile. I feel a little sad doing this, like I’ve lost a friend. So long, James.

  I also fix those photos of Brad so they’re back to normal. There done.

  Then I work on my architectural drawings for a while. I add an observatory to my fantasy house. I figure the guy who lives there will want to see all the planets and the stars. He’ll probably want to imagine life in far-off galaxies.

  Around eight, my mom calls out to me from upstairs.

  “Danny,” she says. “Want to play Parcheesi?”

  Parcheesi? Argh. Welcome to the exciting life of Danny McBride.

  “Okay, Mom!” I yell. I shut down the computer and run upstairs. I don’t really mind playing Parcheesi if it makes Mom happy. And I sort of like it.

  But let’s keep that between you and me. Okay?

  Adrian Chamberlain is a newspaper reporter. Like his character in FaceSpace, he spends most of his time trying to make sense of the world around him. He has never owned a Lego set but would like to buy one. His interests include playing music and hanging out with his pug dog, Ollie. Adrian lives in Victoria, British Columbia.

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