Hacked

by Linda Gerber

  I nodded, hoping that she wouldn’t see the relief that she wasn’t talking about my blog show on my face.

  “Since your show is a reality format,” Mom said, “the cameras will be following you throughout your day. They’ll film everything, watching for the right situations, the right shots. It takes a lot of footage to edit into each five-minute episode.”

  I nodded again. I hadn’t seen an unscripted show filmed before, but I had seen the number of takes that went into my mom and dad’s show. Don’t even get me started on the amount of film we went through for that special I did in Greece.

  “If at any time you feel uncomfortable,” Mom continued, “or you need a private moment, just ask Liz to turn the cameras off, understand?”

  “I will,” I promised.

  “You remember we’ve talked about being ‘on’ whenever you’re out in the public eye? Well, with this kind of program, you are going to have to be ‘on’ at home as well.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  She wasn’t satisfied with the quick answer. “It will be easier at first. You’ll be quite aware when you’re being filmed. But the camera will always be there, Cassidy. After a while, you get so used to it, it tends to blend into the background.”

  “Stealth camera,” I joked.

  “You make light of it now, but it will be a different story when you forget the camera and say or do something you’d rather not have immortalized on film.”

  Okay, so it didn’t sound quite as much fun when she put it like that. “We have the final say in what they can use, though, right?”

  She squeezed my hand. “Oh, absolutely. We would not have agreed to this otherwise. But you do need to be aware. Your dad and I won’t be with you at all your shoots. We may be going in opposite directions these next several days. Victoria will be on hand to watch out for you, but—”

  I tightened my fingers around hers. “Mom, relax. It’s going to be fine.”

  Which proves how much I know.

  I got my first taste of the stealth camera during class time. We were about halfway through a math worksheet when Liz slipped into the sitting room that was serving as our classroom. Behind her came Daniel and Claudia, schlepping a big black camera on a rolling tripod and a boom mic. A boom mic is basically a microphone attached to the end of a long pole. The boom operator holds it over your head to pick up your voice. Real inconspicuous.

  Claudia set up the camera and spent a few minutes loudly instructing Daniel how to hold the boom. It looked like Daniel had been recruited to our group for more than makeup—which wasn’t unusual for When in Rome. Since we worked with a small crew, they often doubled up on their jobs. For example, Daniel had taken a turn as cameraman in Spain…but at least he knew how to do that. He’d obviously never been a boom operator before.

  “Go ahead with your lesson,” Liz said. “Just pretend we’re not here.”

  With comic timing, Daniel chose that moment to drop the boom pole. It clattered to the floor and must have caused terrible feedback, because he squawked and ripped off his headset and let loose a string of some very bad words.

  I ducked away from the camera to cover my smile, but Logan didn’t bother to hide his. He laughed out loud until he must have noticed how horrified Daniel looked.

  “Sorry, man,” Logan said, scooping up the mic. “Really. Let me help you with that.”

  “Mm-hmmm.” Liz made a note on her tablet and then waved her hand at us like she was casting a spell. “Carry on.”

  The rest of our class time, I tried to mix my mom’s admonition to be “on” with Liz’s admonition to pretend the camera wasn’t there and went back to my worksheet. I couldn’t imagine they’d want to tape our lesson for long anyway. Really. With everything there was to see outside the lodge in Costa Rica, why would they want to waste three hours on a boring class session?

  And yet they were still filming when we finished with math and moved on to the research papers Victoria assigned Logan and me to write.

  She set a tall stack of pamphlets down on the conference table in front of us. “Costa Rica is known for its biodiversity,” she told us. “The variety of flora and fauna in Costa Rica’s forests is so diverse that scientists haven’t even been able to name everything yet, even though they have cataloged over two thousand species of plants, four hundred different species of birds, hundreds of mammals, and even five hundred types of butterflies.”

  I thumbed through the photos in the top pamphlet as she talked. It showed a variety of colorful lizards. The next pamphlet was full of birds.

  “You will see firsthand a number of these plants and animals when we go into the cloud forest,” Victoria continued. “So what I would like for you to do in the next hour and a half is to familiarize yourself with as many species as possible. You will be selecting one as the subject of a research paper that will be due by the end of the week.”

  Logan held up one of the pamphlets with a bewildered look on his face. “You want us to research with these?”

  She cleared her throat and glanced almost guiltily at the camera. “Actually, yes. Only until we can get some sort of Internet connection reestablished.”

  I closed the pamphlet I’d been looking through. “It’s still down?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Victoria said. “Mama Tica said she would have someone come take a look at the satellite this afternoon while we are out filming in the rain forest canopy, so you should be able to do some online research tomorrow. For the time being, I’d like you to take a look through these. The photos are really quite extraordinary.”

  Logan shrugged and picked up a pamphlet with a picture of a gigantic spider on the front. I started reading a short article about an animal called a coatimundi. The one in the picture stood rigid on its hind legs, peeking at the camera with a guilty look on its face. Or muzzle. Or whatever. The coatimundi looked like a cross between a badger and an aardvark, with a tail like a lemur. The article said it was related to the raccoon. Beyond that, I couldn’t tell you a thing, because even though I read the article, I couldn’t concentrate on the words.

  All I could think about was my blog. I had assumed it would be something I could manage from the lodge. What if someone hacked into it again? How would I find out without Internet access?

  I’d have to ask Bayani to take me back to the bus, but we wouldn’t be able to do that until dinnertime because our whole day was already scheduled. Plus, now I had a film crew on my tail. That’s all I would need—to find another rogue post while the camera was rolling.

  I stared at the coatimundi, feeling as guilty as it looked. I should have just said something to my mom and dad the minute I saw my account had been messed with. It was bad enough I decided not to tell, but then I had covered it up by deleting it and writing a new post. Which meant that I would have to keep covering. Because if my mom and dad found out about it now, they’d come unglued for sure. The only question was, how was I going to sneak away from the camera long enough to do that?

  Travel tip: In Costa Rica, weather and environment usually dictate fashion choices.

  The difference between a rain forest and a cloud forest is that a cloud forest is usually shrouded in clouds. Where a rain forest is warm and humid, a cloud forest—on account of the clouds—is cool and moist. So when Liz said we would be zip-lining through the cloud forest, I had expected the entire forest to be, well, cloudy. The sun was shining as we suited up to follow our guide into the trees.

  Since we were going to be up in the canopy, walking out over suspension bridges and zip-lining from platform to platform, we had to strap on safety harnesses with big metal clips so we could hook onto the lines. They didn’t look complicated to put on, but I had trouble with mine and had to step in and out of it about three times. That wouldn’t have bothered me, except the camera was rolling the entire time. Lovely.

  As we waited for the tram to pick us up and carry us to the first platform, I pulled out my Windbreaker. Even though it wasn’t cloudy, the air wa
s damp and chilly. I was glad Mama Tica had talked me into bringing the Windbreaker to wear over my designer hoodie.

  Liz wasn’t thrilled about it, though. “The sponsors expect their product to be seen,” she insisted. “Is that really the kind of outfit la chica moda would wear?”

  I had to laugh, looking down at the way the harness bunched my pants up around the tops of my thighs and cinched my hoodie in at the waist. I was hardly a fashion icon, Windbreaker or not.

  And let me tell you—I didn’t care a thing about la chica moda when the wind started to whistle through the metal mesh of our tram car as we rode slowly up, up, up. It tossed my hair and snaked up my pant legs, raising goose bumps I could feel through my clothes.

  Across from me, Daniel shivered and hugged his arms. I’m guessing his shivers didn’t have much to do with the cold, though. He peered over the edge of the car and asked in a squeaky voice, “How high did you say this thing went?”

  Victoria patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s perfectly safe. You’re going to be fine.”

  “Yeah,” Logan drawled. “We’re probably only about fifty-five meters above the ground.”

  Daniel’s grip on his seat relaxed a little. “Oh. That’s not so ba—”

  “What’s that to you Americans?” Logan asked innocently. “A hundred and eighty feet?”

  Daniel groaned and white-knuckled the seat again. Victoria pursed her lips and shot Logan a dark look. “Now, now,” she said soothingly to Daniel. “Simply don’t look down.”

  “But isn’t that the point?” Logan persisted, “to look down at the—”

  “Hey.” I grabbed his arm. “Why don’t you come sit by me?”

  Across from us, Marco chuckled. “We should give him credit for trying to be brave,” he said.

  “I don’t get it.” I lowered my voice, but the wind carried it away so I had to lean closer to Logan and Marco to be heard. “Why did he come if it’s going to make him miserable? We could have let him stay back at the farm, or go with the regular When in Rome crew. I’m sure Mom would rather have him with her to keep touching up her makeup than do it herself.”

  “It’s a challenge,” Marco said. “This morning he mentioned he was afraid of heights. I may have told him to meet his challenges head-on.”

  I looked over at Daniel again. His eyes were closed, and it looked like Victoria was leading him through some kind of breathing exercises. “What if he hyperventilates?”

  Marco laughed. “He won’t.”

  “But,” Logan said, “if he’s gonna be traumatized…”

  “He will have faced his fear and be stronger for it. To experience life is to truly live.”

  “Like pura vida,” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  “What’s with the pow-wow?” Liz asked, scooting closer to Marco.

  “We were talking about the height of the tram ride,” Marco said.

  “Oh, yes.” She nodded. “Amazing view, isn’t it? Claudia’s getting some fabulous shots. But we’d like to get some footage of Cassidy and Logan as we reach the platform up top, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

  “Oh. Of course.” To Logan and me, Marco said, “If you will excuse me. It appears I am in the way.” He moved off to sit by Daniel and Victoria.

  Liz slid over to take his spot. “Now,” she said, “I know we had some difficulties this morning with the boom setup, which we obviously can’t deal with up here, so we’re going to be using lavs for your sound from now on.”

  “Lavs?” Logan asked.

  “Lavaliers,” Liz explained, although that didn’t help much. Not until she showed us a transmitter box wired to a small, clip-on microphone. I’d always heard them called lapel mics. “Usually, we would strap the transmitter around your waist to fit at the small of your back, but while you’re on the zip line, we’ll have to secure it in your clothing so it won’t interfere with your harness.”

  Logan said it was cool, but I wasn’t so sure. With a boom mic, you knew when your words were being recorded. That long pole hanging over your head was kind of a good reminder. With lavaliers, it would be easy to forget. We’d have to be careful about every word we said. I still hadn’t had a chance to talk to Logan about the weird blog post—and I never would, as long as I was wired for sound.

  When the tram stopped, Logan and I had to wait while everyone else cleared the car so that Claudia could get shots of us stepping out onto the platform for the first time. I didn’t need a script to direct my reaction; my awe was completely genuine. It was like we had just entered some kind of fantasy world. The platform stood in the midst of the forest’s canopy, and before us, a long open-air bridge stretched out into the treetops. Clouds I hadn’t seen from below swirled around us so that the trees, the bridge, and everything below seemed to dissolve in the mist.

  “It’s so quiet up here,” I whispered. The only sound I could hear were the buckles on our harnesses clanking as we moved, the gears on the tram lowering our car to the ground, and the very faint voices of another group somewhere in the distance.

  Logan nudged me. “Check it out. There are plants growing on the branches of this tree.”

  “Those are called epiphytes,” Victoria informed us. “They are plants that don’t need soil to attach themselves to their host. You’re probably familiar with some epiphytes such as mosses and vines, but”—she gestured for us to follow her to the bridge—“look how spectacular these air plants are.”

  From the suspension bridge, we were able to get a closer look at the trunk of another huge tree. The epiphytes growing there were spiky and flaming red.

  “Have you ever seen such a color palette in nature?” Victoria asked in a reverent tone.

  Once when When in Rome was filming in Curaçao, we got to go snorkeling near one of the most beautiful coral reefs I had ever seen. The variety and colors of the fish we saw were unbelievable. I never thought I’d be as awed by nature again, until now.

  All around us, bright bursts of color dotted the mossy green background of the tree trunks—bromeliads, orchids, Technicolor birds. I took probably two dozen pictures of it all with my phone, but I knew that none of those pictures would live up to seeing it in person.

  “Get that, would you?” Liz said, nudging Claudia. I thought she was talking about getting a shot of the scenery, so I stepped back out of the way.

  “No, no!” Liz scolded. “That was perfect, you taking pictures with your sponsor-gifted phone. Do it again.”

  “Unscripted, huh?” Logan said under his breath.

  “You want unscripted?” I pointed my phone’s camera at him. He pulled a face just as I snapped the picture. I saved it on the screen. “Oh, very attractive. Your focus group will love this one.”

  “How about this?” He pulled his lips back and stuck out his tongue.

  “Okay,” Liz said. “That’s enough. Let’s move on, shall we?”

  Marco quickly stepped into his guide role and led us across the bridge. The way that the clouds swirled around our feet once we moved away from the platform, it looked like the thing was suspended in midair. Daniel gripped the handrails and slid one foot in front of the other, mumbling to himself about not looking down. Which wouldn’t have been that bad, to be honest, since all he’d see would be clouds.

  Suddenly, Marco stopped and turned to face us. “You are standing,” he said dramatically, “directly above the spine of the Continental Divide.”

  Ever the teacher, Victoria asked Logan and me if we knew what that meant. I had just read about it in one of the brochures she had given us that morning, and I was about to raise my hand with the answer when Logan spoke up.

  “If I spit off the left side of the bridge,” he said, “eventually it’ll end up in the Pacific Ocean, and if I spit off the right, it will flow to the Caribbean Sea.”

  I smacked his arm. “Gross.”

  “Simplistic,” Victoria said, “but you are correct. The flow of rivers and streams run west on one side of the divide and east on
the other. Very good.”

  “I knew that,” I muttered.

  We ended our bridge tour at the platform for launching the first of the zip lines. Daniel took up camera duty on the launching platform, and Claudia split from us to set up on the lower platform so she could film us as we arrived.

  As we waited for her to get situated, the line workers gave Logan and me leather gloves to wear and instructed us on how to hold on to the harness and how we could slow ourselves by gripping the line if we needed to. They gave us funny-looking helmets with built-in cameras in them and helped us strap them on. It was hard to feel like any kind of a star while trussed up with the flat little helmet on my head, but as I stood at the edge of the platform waiting to launch, I didn’t really care about that. I just prayed the ropes would hold, because in the mist, it looked like I was going to be jumping off into nothing.

  When Claudia radioed that she was ready, Logan quickly volunteered to go first. The workers helped him clip onto the line, he gave a little wave to the camera Daniel was holding, and then he was gone.

  “My,” Victoria said, “that’s fast.”

  I tried not to think about just how fast as the workers moved me into position. They fastened my clip onto the line, and we waited for the all clear so we’d know Logan had reached the next platform.

  Before I knew it, the gate before me opened and I was off, flying solo through the trees. Above my head, the pulley hummed in a high pitch as it zipped along the line. Wind rushed in my ears. Those were the only sounds I heard. Even the chirping of the birds and the constant thrum, thrum of the insects was lost.

  Logan was waiting for me at the bottom with a huge grin on his face. “That was awesome!” He pulled me into a quick hug as soon as I was released from the line. “Wasn’t that wicked?”

  “Amazing,” I managed, even though my heart was racing and I could hardly breathe. Part of that was from the ride on the line, but a lot of it probably had to do with the hug and the fact that Logan’s arm was still draped around my shoulders. I tried not to read too much into it—I knew Logan was caught up in the moment. Still, it made the moment that much better for me.