What? I said, waving the door once for good measure; meaning, say what you have to say. Good-bye, she said. Bye, I said, realizing that was all she meant. She was just saying good-bye; she just wanted me to say good-bye. I felt so bad, closing the door behind me, heading for the bus stop, then I swallowed it back. Just like that, it was gone again.
When I got to the stop, the designated spot about two hundred yards down the road, at the turn off, between the country road and the highway, a group of kids were waiting, having formed a line. I walked around them, standing back, and then I balked, seeing the freaky little twins—Cam always calls them the IV Twins or InVitro Babies—they were there, too. Something must have been wrong with their eighty-year-old mother’s car or hip, because the twins never ride the bus. Whatever the problem was, there they were, in their matching red wool winter coats, with their matching red winter caps, pulled down over their freaky little twin eyes, that look like black marbles swimming in saucers of skim-milk-blue skin. Looking at them, I remembered how Cam always said if you can create life in a petri dish, why couldn’t you travel back in time? It’s all just code, he said. Code, Thee: reality, everything—everything has a code.
The very thought made me sad—our mean nicknames almost brought tears to my eyes—and I could feel my face fall, giving me away, before I pulled it together, shaking it off. But they were all eyes, the twins, gawking at me. I stared back at them, waiting, until finally, I cocked my chin, threatening: Was I talking to you? I said, irritated, and they looked down in tandem. Fortunately or unfortunately, the bus came a minute later, and I was last on, saying hey to Mason, the driver, before bracing myself, knowing I was about to be hit again by the heinous sound of the bus door vacuum-sealing our fates for another day, as Mason gripped the handle, pulling the door closed behind me. Everyone was waiting for me, and I sighed and took a seat halfway, making this little second grader move over, so I could have the window.
My bones felt so heavy, I thought, God, do I have mono? What’s wrong with me? And then, once again, I remembered, No, I don’t have mono: I have boyfriend. Or worse, had: I had a boyfriend. All of a sudden, I felt sick to my stomach. For a second, I thought I was going to puke, and I squeezed my bag, trying to breathe. Thankfully, I swallowed, and it passed. But the light: Where is all this light coming from? I thought, looking up. I unzipped a pocket and pulled out my sunglasses, resting my head against the window, but there was no escape. Finally, I looked up at the morning sky, at the sun, thinking, Is that really necessary?
The day was just—thick. I don’t know how else to describe it. Not just slow, you know, but more like, like you were trudging through water up to your knees, and you had to be careful with every step, pushing yourself forward, tugging to get through it. I was in English when the knock finally came, and then, hearing Linda knock, the scariest sound you can ever hear in a high school classroom: quiet.
I knew it was Foley, too. I just knew he was waiting for me with something dirty, something I’d never want to see, and I got as far as the office door, and then I stood there. I mean, I had my hand on the office door, and then I was just like, No. I don’t have to do this. I don’t have to go in there. I don’t have to talk to him. I don’t have to watch any more sex videos of me and my boyfriend that can’t possibly be real, nothing—none of it. Then I let go of the door handle, and I walked to the front doors, and I walked out. First time in my life, I walked straight out the doors, didn’t even turn around to get the rest of my books.
I walked into Silver Top and Sharon’s head snapped—even the Elders stopped talking. Everyone looked at the clock on the wall. I just shook my head no, you don’t want to know, and I went to my booth. Not our booth, my booth, and I sat down. I took my phone out, and Sharon brought me some coffee, and she did the sweetest thing. She didn’t ask if I was okay, because clearly I wasn’t. But for the very first time, she leaned over and kissed my head. I don’t know why it made me all teary, but I looked up, smiling, and I looked away, before I started crying.
I just sat there for an hour or two, watching this video of us that I took on our last snow day. I had to hide my head, because I didn’t want the Elders to see me wiping the tears away, and then I noticed something weird. My video looked kinda strange. I played it again, and it started to, I don’t know, like it started to fade, like someone poured bleach into my phone. I started the video again, and it got worse every time, so finally I called and I got Knox’s voice mail, so I left a message. I said, It’s Thea. I’m at Silver Top, and you’ve got to get over here, and he called me back two minutes later, and I said, Knox, something weird is happening, and I heard him sigh, but then he said he was on his way.
He took, like, twenty minutes to get there, and when he walked in, he slid into the booth with me, and I go, What took you so long? He goes, Thea, I’ve got other work—. I go, Yeah, listen: something really strange is going on. And he goes, You don’t say. I said, No, with my phone and my computer, both. Look, I said, patting the seat beside me, telling him to slide over, so he sighed again, then he did. See: this is a video we shot a few months ago in my room. Cam’s got a brand-new video camera, too—he got it for Christmas, I said, holding up my phone. Now, look, I said, pressing play. Look at how it’s all grainy and queasy.
He watched the whole thing all the way through, and then his head pulled back, like, Whoa. I go, Right? Have you ever seen anything like that before? And Knox said, Wow. It’s like it’s disintegrating, and I said, It can’t disintegrate—it’s digital, digitized, whatever. It can’t fall apart, and Knox said, Well, of course it can fall apart—. I snapped, Knox, you know what I’m saying. Knox said, Wait, you know what it is? Beta. It looks like beta, he said, frowning. And I go, What’s beta? Is that bad? I said, and he goes, Don’t worry: it’s not contagious. They eradicated it years ago. And I didn’t know if he was being serious, so I ignored him, showing him another video.
This one, too, I said, playing another video for him on my computer. Because, at first, I thought maybe it was just that one, or maybe just my phone, but it’s not, I said, taking out my computer. I turned it on, and then I pushed play, showing him this iMovie of me and Cam from last winter. I was sitting on his lap, in front of the computer, and I said, Oh, ha-ha, I’m Cam, and I’m so funny, slapping him, and then he got me in a bear hug, and Cam took one of my hands and made me slap myself, telling me: Theadora, quit hitting yourself. Quit hitting yourself. You silly girl, you silly teenage girl!
Knox started watching it again, and I said, Can we stop now? pressing stop. He looked embarrassed for a second, and I go, It’s not that—we don’t have sex or anything. It’s just that every time I watch this, the image gets fainter. It gets more and more grainy every time. That’s what I was trying to tell you. It’s like it’s decomposing, or rotting—I don’t understand. Don’t watch it again, he said, closing my computer, and I just looked at him, like, come on. He goes, No, seriously. Listen, can you burn me a copy? I go, Sure. But why? And he goes, I want to show it to a friend—I don’t know jack squat about this stuff, so let me show it to someone who knows what they’re doing. Is this the only one? Is this the only video that it’s happened to? I shook my head and I go, No, there are others—all my videos.
He thought about it, sitting back, and then he goes, Okay, don’t watch any of them, just burn me a copy, and we’ll see what we can find out. I go, But you see what it looks like, like an old photograph, don’t you think? It’s like sepia, I said, and he looked at me, shaking his head, like what the hell is going on? Well, I told you, I said. You told me what? he said, and I go, I told you, I’m not the crazy one here. And he smiled and said, I beg to differ. He slid out of the booth, and then he said, Need a ride? I grabbed my bag and said, That’s some quality detective work, right there.
We got in the car, and we didn’t have much to say on the way home, until he pulled in front of our building, and then he said, Thea, there’s something else I need to tell you. I was worried, and I said, Is it
Mel? And he said, No, Mel’s fine, and I looked, and he said, It’s not Cam—we don’t have any new information, I’m sorry, and I sighed, realizing that only left one other thing it could be. Ohmygod, I said, and he said, There were more videos posted on YouTube, and he looked at me, sympathizing. Did you see? I said, and he nodded, and I felt my jaw lock up, getting ready for a fight.
I swallowed back, trying to calm down, and then I said, A video of what? And I could tell he’d been dreading this, but he came out with it. Knox goes, See for yourself, handing me his phone, and I took the phone, trying not to shake, and then I pressed play, and at first, you could sort of make out that it was a boy and girl, and they’re having sex in a bathroom, right on the sink, and right away, I felt sick. It had gone high-def. It had been seen by four hundred thousand people. And it was me and Cam, real or not. That’s what Foley was going to show me: I know he was, the perv.
I stared without staring at anything—there’s a blindness that comes from emotion, from being overwhelmed, and it was like that. But I shook my head, and I go, I know how it looks, but Cam still didn’t have anything to do with this. There’s no way, I said, nodding, and Knox goes, Thea, listen. Every video posted, every picture, they’ve all been traced to Cam’s website, and I snapped, So? Doesn’t mean they’re from Cam. And Knox goes, Do you really believe that? I could tell by the look in his eye, I could tell he thinks I’m crazy, or worse, I’m wrong, and he feels pity for me. I see it in his eyes, but I told him, I said, You know, I’m holding on… God, it was so hard to say it, but I had to get it out. Knox, I am holding on by this much, I said, pinching my thumb and index finger together. Don’t take that away from me, and he nodded, dropping it. I cleared my throat, and I go, Three percent, and Knox goes, Sorry? I said, Did you know the human eye can only see three percent of reality? As sophisticated as our eyes are, that’s all we register, and he said, Meaning? I go, Meaning, I don’t care how it looks. I know Cam, and he’d never do that. Never, I said, and Knox nodded, putting his phone away.
Call me if you need anything, he said, tilting his head forward, looking at me in that way that told me he realized he wasn’t going to convince me otherwise, and I nodded yes, that’s right, now we’re communicating. Then I said, You know what it’s like, Knox? It’s like those naked dreams—I had that dream once, a dream that I showed up for school in a sweater, but I wasn’t wearing any pants or underpants, I said, and Knox sort of pulled away in that way he does when he doesn’t like the fact that he’s got visuals on me while I’m telling him something like this. Whatever. I said, I come to in the dream, and I’m just standing there, half-naked, in the middle of the hall, everyone standing around, heading for class, and I know I have two seconds before everyone sees me, and I’m thinking, What the hell am I doing at school without any pants or underwear? It’s exactly like that, except that that’s how my life really is now. Every day now, when I show up to school, everybody’s seen something about me, and it’s like I’m not just naked on the outside, I’m naked on the inside, too, I said. Knox took the back road, staring straight ahead, not saying a word—not avoiding speaking, just… what could he say, you know? What could he possibly say? So I said good-bye, opened the car door, and got out.
When I walked in, Mom was sitting on the couch, and her mouth fell open, seeing me home at that hour, and I go, I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it, Mom. I got called to the office again, and… I couldn’t even finish my sentence. Mom nods her head, telling me not to worry, and then I saw the people sitting in the chairs, across the room. She was sitting with this man and woman, and right when I’m figuring out what’s going on, Mom stands up and introduces them to me, telling me the name of the firm they’re with, Somebody, Somebody, Somebody, and Somebody Else. But right away, I knew what they wanted, why they were sitting in our sad little living room: money. There’s money to be made, and they even had a computer with them, obviously online—the woman must’ve frozen the frame, hearing me walk in.
They both wore suits, so I knew they weren’t from around here—I didn’t even think they were from Albany. I didn’t know where they were from—New York, maybe? The guy was fifty, maybe? I don’t know, old, with a bald head—the kind with a ring of hair around his head, you know? The woman was younger, maybe thirty-five, tall and thin, and she’d set her long hair in rollers. The way she smiled at me, she had this air about her, like it was just between us girls, right? But plastic, and I’m like, I don’t know you.
I didn’t say hello, nothing. I just said, It’s not true—those videos aren’t me. And if it’s not me, we can’t sue anyone, so you’re wasting your time, and then I turned back around. The man spoke up; he said, Thea, I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this, but obviously there are legal issues to consider, since you’re underage. There are statutory rape laws to consider, as well, the woman said, and I go, If that was me, maybe, but it’s not. She goes, Thea, I’m so sorry to have to pry, but are you saying you didn’t have sex with your boyfriend, John Cameron Conlon, on the afternoon of April 4? I turned around, and the man goes, I’m sorry, Thea, I know this must be very confusing for you, and then I said, No, it’s not confusing, because it’s not me. He goes, But it’s your room? Yes, I said, and he goes, Is the boy in this image your boyfriend, Cam Conlon? I don’t know who he is, I said. He goes, The clock? Is that your clock? I don’t know whose it is, either, I said. And the man goes, Well, then, can you tell us what you were doing at three forty-five on Monday afternoon, April 4? I go, I have nothing more to say.
See, this is where I get confused, Thea, the woman said. She nodded like she understood, and then she goes, Whoever it is, it certainly appears to be you and Cam, and these videos, all of them, are receiving tens of thousands of hits per day. Thea, we filed a cease and desist, and we’re threatening them with a lawsuit. We have to put a stop to this, and I said, Stop who? And the man goes, Facebook, Flickr, Google, YouTube, iTunes—they’re all showing these videos. And what? I said. You want to sue Google? Facebook? Yes, he said, dead serious. I go, For what? And he goes, For exhibiting videos of a minor performing sexual acts, in what is, technically, a case of statutory rape. Rape? I said, and I almost started laughing. I go, I never raped Cam, trust me. Thea, the woman said, we’ve been contacted by every major news agency in the world. CNN called and we feel—. You feel? Look, you have no business being here, I said, really getting angry with these people, and the woman smiled, like she felt sorry for me, and Mom goes, Thea, I retained their services two weeks ago. I had to—aside from the fact that your father left me little choice, we need legal counsel, she said. We? We who? I said, shocked she was just telling me this now, weeks after the fact. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I didn’t want to worry you prematurely. Anything else you aren’t telling me? I asked, glaring at her.
Immediately, the man said, Because there’s more. More what? I asked. We can’t understand how, but the resolution is getting sharper with every hit, every viewer. They can’t seem to remove the tapes—or so they’re saying, the woman said. They’re claiming it’s a virus unlike anything they’ve ever seen before. No kidding, I said, standing, ready to walk out. Please, I want you to leave now—or better yet, I will, I said, heading for the front door.
Thea, Mom said, look outside, and I could see not to push her any farther, so I walked over the window, and I twisted the blinds. I looked out the window, and there was a white van, a news van with a satellite dish on the hood—right in our parking lot. What happened? I asked, thinking there was an accident or a fire or something. Mom didn’t know what to say, but the man spoke up. He said, That’s what we’re trying to tell you, Thea: you happened: you’re big news.
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 2011
(EIGHT WEEKS EARLIER)
4:14 PM
When I was little, like three or four, Gram, my mom’s mom, sent me this card for Easter with this bunny on it, and I thought it was the most beautiful bunny I’d ever seen. It was so real, too, like you could see its s
hiny hair and its little cotton tail and every blade of grass was so perfect, I became obsessed with trying to draw a bunny like that one. But I was so young, I couldn’t even read yet, so my dad helped me look up the artist, online, and it was Albrecht Dürer, right, from like the 1500s, and when I saw all the things he’d drawn, I wanted to draw like that as well. I tried so hard, too. I worked and worked my little fingers to the bone, but I just couldn’t come close to copying Dürer’s hare with crayons.
A couple years later, when I was playing in Gram’s attic, I was snooping around, and I found this old box. This was before my grandpa died, when he was in the hospital, and I found this collection of old Playboys, all the way back to the 1950s, even. I knew it was wrong, but I snuck a few of them, and then I spent like the whole day, looking at the centerfolds, trying to draw Playboy bunnies. I mean, I know that sounds weird, but I saw this show on TV that talked about figure drawing and how all the great artists learned to draw by drawing women naked, and I wanted to be a great artist, but I didn’t know any women I could draw naked, you know? I must have been like five or six, because I could read by then, and I just thought it was so funny that the women were called bunnies, and for years I’d been drawing bunnies, so for some reason, I started drawing these totally curvy sixties Playboy bodies with pretty little Dürer bunny heads. And ever since then, I don’t know, I’ve always drawn people with animal heads—eagles, tigers, badgers, you name it. I mean, I’ve always loved animals, but my dad’s allergic to fur, so I could never have anything but fish, and that’s not the same, but anyhow.
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