The Oracle Rebounds

  By the time I get home, I’m downright scared to go to the computer. But I have to see what’s on there, regardless of what it is. I turn my computer on, telling myself that it’ll be okay, that it won’t be as bad as I’d feared. When I click on teenmoi’s website and scroll down, I see a ton of comments.

  — The Oracle of Dating is full of shit! This is such a prejudiced answer! She’s playing on every stereotype in the book about homosexuals. She should be ashamed of herself. Being gay is “simply the way you’re born,” huh? She makes it sound like a disease.

  — The Oracle crossed the line. These people are sick and she acts like being gay is normal and okay. Hasn’t she read the Bible?

  — I think Disoriented is a man-hater. Maybe she was abused by her father and that’s why she hates straight men. She should wake up and get some psychological help! The Oracle of Dating is too afraid to tell the truth.

  The posts go on and on, and ninety percent of them are trashing me. I feel like I’m being punched in the gut. If it weren’t so traumatic to read how horrible a person I am, I might find it funny that they’ve managed to find fault with everything I wrote, and for opposite reasons.

  I bet Brandy’s loving every minute of it.

  I check my website, and my worst fear is confirmed. The Oracle-bashing has spread to my website, where I’ve gotten a slew of new blog comments. One person wrote “If you’re looking at this website a virus will infect your computer. Stay away! I already lost half my files!”

  Oh, no! I’m being slammed in front of my readers. I hope everybody can see that these people are being unreasonable. I spot a post that comes to my defense. It’s from LostGirl, which means it’s Viv. “The Oracle has done her best to answer a tough question. I’ve looked at her other blogs, and she is always fair and not prejudiced. I think you should all leave her alone.”

  At least somebody is on my side.

  Stay calm, Oracle. Think. Think damage control.

  The first thing I do is disable blog comments on my website and delete the most offensive ones. Hopefully this will die down soon, but for now, this is the safest option. I also remove the mention that I’ve done a Q & A on teenmoi—the last thing I need is for even more people to see the bashfest. As for the mud-slinging on teenmoi, there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m sure if I emailed Brandy and asked her to remove the blog, she wouldn’t, and she’d tell her readers that I’d asked her to.

  I peek back at teenmoi, and wish I hadn’t. Several more cruel comments have been posted. I force myself to stop reading them.

  I can’t believe this. In my efforts to expand the Oracle, I’ve brought on disaster.

  “I saw the controversy,” Viv says at our lockers the next morning. “Are you doing okay?”

  “I hardly slept last night. I feel like I’ve destroyed my own business. Everything I’ve worked for is going down the toilet.”

  “I’m sure this’ll die down in a few days.”

  “I hope so, but how much damage can these people do in the meantime?”

  “I bet your website’s getting lots of hits, at least.”

  “It is. Hundreds.”

  “This will get people talking about your site. Everyone will make their own decision as to whether you’re legit.”

  “Good point. It’s just really hard to have those nasty things said about me. I know that my answer wasn’t perfect, but they’re blowing it all out of proportion.”

  “Just be glad your identity isn’t out in the open. Picture how you’d feel if everyone at school knew who you were.”

  “You think the Rainbow Club would come after me?”

  “Or the evangelical club. That’s the funny thing about this—everyone hates you for different reasons. It doesn’t matter what you said or meant to say. They’re twisting your words any way they want.”

  We go our separate ways at the bell. I try to pay attention to the lesson, but it’s impossible. I keep thinking that when someone runs a search for the Oracle of Dating, they’ll see the controversy on teenmoi right away, and some people will pass up my website because of it.

  My fists curl under my desk. The worst part is that I feel powerless. I can’t stop them from bashing me, and I can’t possibly respond to all of the accusations. Part of me thinks I shouldn’t give these jerks the satisfaction of knowing I’ve read their comments by responding in any way. Another part of me says I should write a response of some kind.

  One thing’s for sure—I’m too upset to make a decision right now. Anything I’d write would sound defensive and angry. I need to take a day or two to figure out what to do.

  The weird thing is, I find myself wishing I could talk to Jared about this. He always had this calmness, this Zen way of dealing with things, that made whatever drama I was going through seem not so bad. None of those dramas were anything compared to this one. The business I’ve worked so hard to build is being attacked, and I’m terrified that everything I’ve worked for is going to disappear. I can’t lose my business, I just can’t!

  “I know who you are.”

  It’s not the typical greeting Evgeney gives me when I walk into chemistry class, but then, he’s not a typical guy.

  “I know who you are, too.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” He darts a glance around. “I know what you do.” His last words are a whisper. “And I think what those people are saying about you is unfair!”

  He knows I’m the Oracle? My mouth opens, but only a stutter comes out. Finally I manage, “How do you know?”

  “Your web domain is registered to you.”

  “It is? Oh. Was it that easy to find out?”

  “For those who know where to look, yes. You can switch the registration to private, if you like.”

  “I’d better do that right away.” The last thing I need is for the teenmoi haters to find out who I am and leave a dead fish on my doorstep. “Do you know how to change it?”

  He nods. “Meet me in the computer lab at lunchtime. I’ll show you. It’s easy.”

  “Thanks—I’d really appreciate it.”

  Mrs. Moser describes what we’ll be doing for today’s lab and hands out worksheets. Evgeney takes charge, as usual. Once the classroom is buzzing, I ask him, “How long have you known?”

  “From the start.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  He shrugs. “You obviously didn’t want people to know. The only reason I’ve told you is because I want you to defend yourself against the horrible things they are saying about you. Then anyone who sees the controversy can read your statement and know that you are the real thing.”

  I’m comforted that he thinks I’m the real thing. With all the people bashing me, it’s impossible not to second-guess myself. “Maybe if I write a more general statement instead of trying to address all the accusations, that would work.”

  “Yes, that is a good idea.”

  He focuses on the lab for a few minutes. My mind is reeling. Was it weird for Evgeney to contact me online for advice when we’re lab partners? Was he comfortable paying me when I’m a friend? I guess he must be, because he’s been very supportive.

  “I won’t charge you for advice from now on.”

  “I want to pay you—I appreciate the attention you give to my concerns and that is a worthwhile service to pay for. You do not charge much, anyway.”

  “I certainly haven’t gotten rich off the website. I was hoping the blog tour would help with business, but it looks like that backfired.”

  “The final outcome is yet to be seen. I believe your business will weather the storm.” He turns to me. “That is the appropriate expression, right? Weather the storm?”

  I smile. “It is.”

  I scarf down my lunch at my locker and get to the computer lab early to check my email. I cringe. Several of the emails are hateful. Some I delete based on the scathing titles. A few I open and delete after skimming the first line.

  “Hi.” Evgeney sits at the station beside m
e, pulling up a chair. “Checking email?”

  I nod.

  He must see my expression, because he shakes his head sadly. “Ignorant people. If you’d like, you can attach a virus to your reply. As soon as they open it, their computer will be infected. Would you like me to set that up?”

  “No, I can’t do that. It would just confirm to them that I’m evil.”

  “Your choice. Now if you go into your domain registration, we’ll set up the privacy setting. It will just take a minute.”

  It really does take a minute, but I doubt I could’ve figured out how to do it on my own. “You’re quite the computer genius, aren’t you?”

  He smiles. “I enjoy technology. If you like, I could modernize some aspects of your website. Unless you think your web designer would be offended.”

  “My sister set up my website. I’m sure she’d love it if you made some changes. What do you suggest? I can’t afford to pay you, but like I said before, I could give you my services free of charge.”

  “It’s not necessary for you to reimburse me. I’ll do it as a friend.”

  “So why won’t you let me give you advice as a friend?”

  “I want to support your business. Also, I have a favor to ask you.”

  “Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

  “I want to be a ‘viable option,’ as you wrote in that blog. There is a girl, a beautiful girl named Rose, in my ballroom dancing class.”

  “Ballroom dancing, huh?” I grin. “That’s fun.”

  “It was your idea, Miss Oracle. You said I must join a class in something that I enjoy. Back in Bulgaria, many of us studied ballroom as children. Men do not appear as interested in it over here, but that could work to my advantage. I have always enjoyed dancing. And when I entered the class, there was my lovely Rose.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  “She’s pretty and kind—most good adjectives you can think of would apply. She is quite shy, but when she dances, she is glorious. We dance together at every class. I think she likes me well enough. But she might just see me as a friend. That’s why I need you to help me.”

  “What can I do?”

  “You can come to the class with me. We were all given a free guest pass in case we’d like to bring a friend. You will give me status.”

  Status? I never thought of myself as potentially giving someone status, but I can see what he means. I’m mainstream-looking and fashionable enough. Evgeney’s a bit more on the unusual side. If I show up to class with him and we’re obviously friends, that could make him a viable option for Rose.

  “I’m hoping that you will raise my market value.”

  Wow, he really does study my website.

  “I’ll do it. When’s the class? I work three shifts a week.”

  “Wednesday nights. We can start next week, not tonight. You have other things to deal with right now—like defending your reputation.”

  When I get home from school, I see that the traffic on my website has shot to crazy numbers. Unfortunately, most of the people are haters, judging by the emails I’m getting. Well, haters or not, I’ve decided how I’m going to respond.

  One statement and that’s it, I tell myself. I’ll post it on my website and on teenmoi, then I’ll put this behind me.

  The Oracle’s Reply

  I would like to start off by thanking Brandy for the opportunity to visit her dynamic website. I was given a challenging question and I answered it as best I could, drawing on my experience and intuition. It may not be a perfect answer, but I’m not ashamed of it.

  I find it unfortunate that some people have misconstrued my words in order to make me seem homophobic, sexist and everything else. Have you noticed that you don’t all agree on what my views really are? In light of that, don’t you think you should reexamine what I was trying to say?

  The Oracle believes in gay rights, so those of you who don’t can still hate me. For those of you who think I am anti-gay, please reread the previous sentence. If you have suggestions as to how I could have replied better to Disoriented’s question, please post them.

  I can’t address every criticism that has been thrown at me. That would take a long time and many people would want to continue to argue. It is time for the haters to calm down. If my words have offended you on a regular basis, you should not continue to visit my website. If my words offended you only in this one post, I hope that you will reconsider your assessment of me. But it’s up to you.

  That’s all I have to say on this matter, for now and forever.

  Peace,

  The Oracle of Dating

  When I finish the statement, I skim it for mistakes, then post it. I hope that people will take a chill pill so that I can get back to the important work of giving dating advice. It’s scary putting the statement out there, knowing full well that some of the haters will trash it. But Evgeney was right; it’s about me, not about them. It’s about standing up for myself and not staying silent in the face of attack. And hopefully, within a short time, this will all be just a bad memory.

  nine

  51 Days into Rebound Equation

  I’m not so lucky. Days go by, and teenmoi and her readers are still having a field day with me.

  What could I have done to create this type of karma? Did I knock down an old lady while hurrying across the street? Or give a customer the wrong change?

  I have Brandy to thank because she keeps blogging about my site and how awful it is. She even lifts quotes from it, taking them totally out of context. I wonder if that’s legal. As I anticipated, she tried to cut down my reply but did a terrible job of it—Viv and Evgeney agree with me on that one.

  I keep blogging as the Oracle, wanting to show anyone who visits my site that I’m moving forward and that I won’t be addressing the issue again. In a moment of weakness, I create a Google Alert for “Oracle of Dating.” To my shock, I see that a few other bloggers are now having discussions about my site. Though none of them are as nasty as teenmoi, a few of them obviously enjoy poking fun at my advice. A couple of brave souls dare to defend me and even compliment me, including chicgal, who I guest-blogged for a few weeks ago. Chicgal is a class act and I email her to let her know how much I appreciate her support.

  When I receive my midterm grades from my teachers, I’m depressed again. My grades have slipped this semester, which most of my teachers are eager to point out, as if I’ve disappointed them more than myself. My friends tell me not to beat myself up about it because heartbreak isn’t conducive to studying. That may be true for the first few weeks, but after that, instead of turning back to my schoolwork, I chose to focus on the Oracle’s blog tour. And look where that got me.

  I have no choice now but to get my butt in gear. Instead of hurrying home from school to be the Oracle, I’ve got to be the student for a change. I decide I’ll stay late at the library when I don’t go to Eddie’s. And since I have a history paper due next week, I’ve got my work cut out for me.

  When I get home around supper time Monday night, I find Mom and Erland sitting on the couch. His arm is around her, and he seems to be trying to comfort her.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  Mom looks a little traumatized. “I made a very bad mistake.”

  My mind reels with possibilities. Did she hit someone with the car? Forget to show up at a wedding?

  “What is it?”

  “I…” Mom starts speaking, then shakes her head like she doesn’t want to believe it.

  “Your mother gave the last rites to the wrong woman,” Erland explains.

  “Alice Smith,” Mom says. “How many Alice Smiths can there be in one hospital?”

  Erland squeezes her. “It’s not your fault, dear. You had no way of knowing it was the wrong woman.”

  “Well, she did tell me that her cancer was in remission, but I thought she was just being positive. So I told her about eternal life. Once I left I heard a crashing sound. Apparently she threw a vase of flowers across the room. She thought he
r family had lied to her about going into remission.”

  “Yikes.” I bite my lip, and I realize I’m trying not to laugh. It’s really not funny at all to think that an old lady, having just battled cancer, had been given the last rites by accident. Not funny at all.

  “I should have warned you that there is a negative astrological transit right now,” Erland says. “Jupiter is square Mars, which is a time of hardship and confusion.”

  “I could’ve told you that,” I say, thinking of all the mess-ups in my life and my friends’ lives lately. “Try not to worry about it, Mom. It could’ve happened to anyone. You’re the best minister ever.”

  “Thanks, sweetie.”

  I go over and give her a kiss. Then I catch sight of Erland, whose face is rather pink. He’s trying not to laugh, too.

  Tuesday after school I stay in the library until five to five, when the librarian flickers the lights to let us know that he’s ready to lock up. I’m packing up my books when I hear my name.

  Jared has emerged from the back, where the study carrels are, and is looking at me with a startled expression. I know I don’t often stay after school, but I don’t see why he looks that surprised.

  We walk out together, pushing the heavy doors and entering the deserted hallway. I see he’s got a big black sketchbook under his arm. “Still working on the portfolio?”

  “Yeah, I’m applying for scholarships at a couple more places, so I’m redoing my whole portfolio.”

  “The whole thing? But it was amazing.”

  “Thanks, but it wasn’t enough to get me where I want to be. Anyway, these new drawings will be a lot more polished.”

  He’s got a determined look in his eyes, as if failure is not an option. The Jared I’m used to is more laid-back than that, but I know he feels there’s a lot at stake here. His dream is at stake. I can relate to that.

  “Are you heading to the subway?” he asks. “We can walk together, if you’re cool with that.”

  “Of course I am. I’m cool with you, Jared. You got that email I wrote you a couple of weeks ago, right?”