“Jason, take it easy,” Mom says.
Christian fidgets with a button on his shirt.
I have to say something. My father’s not playing fair. “Dad, Christian already explained he made mistakes. Nobody is immune from screwing up. He’s just a kid. He has his whole life ahead of him to correct his mistakes and make some new ones. How would you feel if someone called you out on every faux pas or misstep you ever made?”
My heart is beating so fast that I think everyone can hear it. I’ve never challenged my father before. Not ever. I can’t look at him. Christian focuses all his attention on the flames from the candles on the table. We’re all waiting for what comes next. Last year, I was grounded for entering the kitchen one morning and not speaking to Dad. I was in a bad mood. He didn’t care. He said that he wouldn’t tolerate disrespect in his own house.
“You’re right, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have come down so hard on him. Christian, please accept my apology.”
I look across the table, and Christian’s eyes flash with admiration. “I understand, Mr. Cooper. You’re just protecting your daughter.”
By the time dessert rolls around, the mood is much lighter. Christian impresses Dad with his business knowledge. Mom asks about his college choices, which include The University of Pennsylvania (although he doesn’t think he will get in), University of Virginia (his mom’s alma mater), New York University, and University of Texas, Austin (my dad’s alma mater). Christian scored some major points with that one.
“Mrs. Cooper, do you miss being a scientist at all?” Christian asks.
“Sometimes. But once I discovered my passion, I never looked back. There’s no need to be so formal, Christian. You can call me Shelby.”
Mom has a Ph.D. in Computational Biology and used to run her own lab as Director of Bioinformatics for a biotech company in Cambridge. When everything was falling apart, she resigned her post and never looked back, as she says.
“When is your next cookbook coming out?” Christian asks.
“Next year. I’m working hard to make it the best one yet.”
Part Three
HACKED!
CHAPTER 17
I finally make it to my room and discover three missed calls from Callie. Dinner was an overall success, despite the rough beginning. Christian got a check mark in the like column from Mom. Dad, it’s hard to say. I don’t think he’ll be taking selfies with Christian anytime soon. I go through my bedtime routine. When I’m done, I perch myself on the bed and call her back.
“So, how was it?” she asks, bubbling with excitement.
I give her the highlights and lowlights of the evening. She can share the details with Frances later.
“Are you guys official now?”
“He did call me his girlfriend. I freaked. But we worked it out.”
I remove the phone from my ears to save my eardrums from the tone-deaf-inducing scream coming from her.
“Are you done now?”
“Yes. Now, on to a more serious topic.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“I got the email address.”
“Fantastic. I’ll wait up another hour or so before I try. What is it?”
Callie rattles off Sidney’s email address. It was smart to call earlier with it. I don’t want any evidence on my phone.
“Was it hard to get the email from Brooke?”
“Nope. She was flattered that I used actual words to communicate with her instead of my usual blank stare.”
“Thanks, I owe you. And Dahlia.”
“What are friends for? Good luck. I’m going to text Frances and tell her you and Christian are officially a couple. That should ruin the rest of the school year for Sidney.”
After I hang up from Callie, I pull out my laptop, prop myself against a pillow, and get to work. I connect to the network and plug in the unique VPN code. Once it’s successful, I log on to her email service provider site and click on mail. Her username is the email address, but the password will be harder. I can make three attempts before she’s alerted. My fingers hover over the keyboard as the cursor blinks in the password box. I try to think like Sidney. My brain screams in protest and spits out a better idea. I know how to get Sidney to hand over her email password.
CHAPTER 18
I sprint across the parking lot, heading for the main road that leads to the entrance of Saint Matthews. I’m invigorated this morning. I barely feel the cold wind nipping at me. Two weeks to go before Thanksgiving. I plan to send out my remaining applications by then, roughly a month before the January 1 deadline. Can’t wait to bust Sidney and put an end to this stupid game.
I hear the faint sounds of footsteps behind me. Not the usual footsteps of fellow day students heading up the hill to the main road leading to school. The fight or flight reflex kicks in. Flight. I quicken my pace. I don’t look back. The main road is in front of me. I look left and right. No cars. I cross the street at full speed. I have to make it on to the school grounds before I stop running. I’m curious too. I have to see the face of the person chasing me and find out what he or she wants.
When I arrive at the main gates, the footsteps fade. Only then do I turn around.
“What do you want? Why are you chasing me? Who are you?” I lob the questions at him, barely breathing between each one.
He holds up both hands, indicating he’s not a threat. Non-threatening people don’t go around chasing teenage girls out of school parking lots, so I’m not about to breathe easy. My chaser looks to be in his early thirties, or maybe he’s in his twenties. His long hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and his outfit is simple: jeans, a T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. I have to remember those details just in case he’s shady and I have to report him or something.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you a student here?”
“What do you want? If you don’t tell me, I’ll scream.”
“No need for that. Nicholas Furi’s daughter goes to this school, right?” He removes a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “Callie Furi. She’s a student here?”
Of all the students leaving the parking lot, he picks me. Why? I school my features into what I hope is a look of utter confusion. Freaking paparazzi. I can’t believe they’re lurking around the area. How many of them are there staking out the school? Poor Callie. Her parents’ messy divorce isn’t leaving tabloid hell anytime soon.
“There are over four hundred students at this school. Excuse me.”
I start sprinting again. I burst through the entrance of the main building and hurry down the hallway to Ms. Spencer’s office, our director of communications. She can coordinate with security. Then I remember the staff members don’t come in until 8:30 a.m. I whip out my phone and text Callie while walking down the hall to the bank of senior lockers.
ABBIE:
Stalkerazzi alert. They’re here.
CALLIE:
Are u serious? OMG. This sucks wind.
ABBIE:
They’re not sure they have the right school. Looking for confirmation. You have to see Ms. Spencer about it. Meet me at my locker.
CALLIE:
k
When I arrive at my locker, my day takes a nosedive. Sidney is waiting for me. I moan in frustration.
I turn my back to her and zip through the combination lock, which she already knows. I have yet to find out how that happened.
“You think you won, don’t you?”
Callie will be here in a few minutes, so the fastest way to get rid of Sidney is to speak to her. I can’t imagine a more intolerable task at 7:30 in the morning.
“Won? Was there a contest going on?”
“I don’t know what kind of voodoo you worked on him, but this isn’t over.”
“I meant it when I said you should get a hobby. Your attitude was just annoying at first. Now, it’s working my last nerve. Besides, I heard you have a new boyfriend. Did he get tired of you already? Can’t blame him.”
Her face turns furious,
raging clouds ready to burst into a rainstorm. “You’ll pay for that.”
“Get your nose out of my business. I’m sure you have other uses for it, like snorting.”
She gets up in my face. “What did you say to me?”
“Your hearing is perfect.”
Her shoulders slump, and she takes a step back. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it? You don’t have to try that hard. Perfect family, perfect grades, perfect friends, perfect figure, and now the perfect boyfriend. You really have it made, Abbie. Soon, you’ll go off to the perfect college and do it all over again. Or not.”
“What are saying?”
“I’m saying one of these days, your luck will run out.”
Was that an admission of guilt, or am I grasping at straws?
“Don’t bet on it, Sidney.”
Where is Callie? I want Sidney to leave.
“I’m just telling you the way it is.”
“The world according to Sidney. There’s a scary thought. By the way, why are you so miserable all the time?”
“You don’t know anything about me,” she says, her green eyes glistening with moisture. “So, shut your stupid mouth.”
I must have touched a nerve. I look past Sidney to see Callie hurrying toward me. Thank goodness. When she gets closer, she does a double take. She doesn’t hide the hostility in her voice. “Sidney.”
“Callie.”
Then Sidney takes off without another word.
“What was that about?” Callie asks.
“I don’t know. She’s messed up.”
“Duh.”
My phone goes off. It’s another text.
CHRISTIAN:
Sorry, babe, can’t walk you to class this morning. Got a call with my mom and then heading to first period. See you later, though.
I text him back a string of smiley-face emoticons. He responds with a series of red roses. The tune to some sappy love song pops into my head, but I don’t recall the name.
“Earth to Abbie,” Callie says.
“Um, yeah, the Stalkerazzi.”
I fill her in on my run-in with the creepy guy before school. We agree that the school should be alerted.
“How did it go last night?”
“It didn’t.”
“You couldn’t crack her password?”
“I didn’t try. I have a better idea.”
“What?”
“Will tell you at lunch.”
Morning classes fly by in a blur. All I could think about was how to get ahead of The Avenger, a.k.a Sidney, before she makes some outrageous demand. I had moments of doubt, where I questioned if what I’m about to do is the right thing, the moral thing.
Callie and Frances are already seated in the dining hall. As much as I like food, I’m always late to lunch. Strange.
“Dish,” Frances says. “What’s this new plan you have to trap Sidney?”
“Can I get some food first? If that’s okay with you, Ms. Newshound.”
“Okay, hurry up.”
I return from the lunch line and place my tray on the table. “Guys, I don’t feel good about this plan. I have to keep talking myself into it.”
“Explain it to us, and we’ll tell you if it’s a good plan or not,” Callie says.
“Keylogger software.”
She scratches her head. “I don’t understand your nerd speak.”
“I can remotely access Sidney’s computer by sending her an email. Once she clicks on it, the software launches and operates in stealth mode. It records every keystroke she makes and logs it. I then login to a special server to retrieve the information. All she has to do is access her email using her password, just once, and I got it.”
“I like it,” Frances says, impressed.
“Genius,” Callie says.
“You guys don’t think there’s anything wrong with this?”
They look at each other and then at me. “No,” they say in unison.
“How do you get her to open an email from you?” Callie asks. “She hates you.”
“I can set it up so it looks like the email is coming from someone she hangs out with.”
“Brooke?” Frances asks.
“Or Jessica, her other minion. Should I be doing this? It’s a gross invasion of privacy and illegal.”
“Will you get caught?”
“No. She won’t even know the software is running on her computer. Once I prove she’s behind the photo and the stalking, I can shut it down.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Frances asks.
“I don’t know. Sidney brings out the worst in me.”
“She’s doing you a favor, Abbie.”
“How do you figure, Frances?”
“She’s forcing you to fight dirty. Stop being the good girl already. Do you think she felt bad when she got that photo and started threatening to expose you? You have a lot to lose, and Sidney knows that. If she shows that picture to anybody, you’re one hundred percent toast. Extra burnt.”
She’s one hundred percent right. If I hesitate, it could speed up my demise.
“Okay. I’ll do it. What are you two doing for Thanksgiving?” I ask, trying to distance myself from the devious plan I just concocted.
“That’s coming up fast, isn’t it?” Callie asks. “Haven’t thought about it much. Not sure where home is anymore. Both my parents moved out of the house in Malibu.”
“Why don’t you guys both spend Thanksgiving with my family? It’s the last time we’ll all be together before graduation. We can Skype with Anastasia. It will be like old times.”
“Your parents won’t mind?” Callie asks.
“My parents adore the two of you. Mom will be thrilled. You know how she makes a big spectacle when it comes to the holidays.”
“You got yourself a deal then,” Frances says. “Penny’s Asian tour is wrapping up, and my parents expect me to be home. Oh well, they’ll understand.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “If you have to go home, you have to go home.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not leaving you and Callie to have all the fun. I want in. I’ll talk to my mom today.”
“We could have even more fun with two additional guests,” I say with a mischievous grin.
They look at me, puzzled.
“Trevor and Christian.”
“Woohoo,” Callie says. “Good times.”
CHAPTER 19
When the bell rings, signaling the end of the school day and AP Biology, I grab everything not nailed down to my desk and stuff it into my bag. Mr. Curry, our teacher, pretends he doesn’t hear the bell and continues to lecture. Everyone ignores him and packs their belongings, ready to jet out of here. When he says class dismissed, we trip all over each other in a mad dash for the door. I move off to the side after I exit the class. The text message alert from my phone gets my attention. It must be Christian. I know he’s waiting for me at my locker so he can walk me to my car.
When I whip out the phone and read the text, I stumble backward into the wall.
BLOCKED NUMBER:
$50k. Will call with instructions.
BLOCKED NUMBER:
You know what happens if you don’t cooperate. U get everything you deserve. NOTHING!!!
A swift kick to the gut would have been less painful. I stay stuck to the wall for a moment, afraid I’ll fall to pieces if I don’t use it for support. This is what it was all about? Money? It doesn’t make any sense. A big, fat dose of irony slaps me across the face. I have the funds. The only problem is I can’t touch that account until I’m eighteen, which doesn’t happen for another few months. I suspect The Avenger will come up with some ridiculous deadline I can’t possibly meet.
I pull up the call log on my phone, and tap the screen. He answers after three rings.
“Cooper, I was going to wait until you got home from school to call. I don’t have good news,” Ty says. “I did some digging. Kyle Davidson dropped out of UCLA, and no one has seen or heard from him since. I
spoke to both Aaron and Pete, and they have no idea who would compile a list of the kids who were using Adderall. They’re not proud of it, either, and didn’t want to talk about it much.”
“I have bigger problems, Ty. Call me in twenty minutes. I should be home by then.”
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“Money. Lots of it.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“I’ll forward you a text. Talk to you in twenty minutes.”
I hang up and then try to forward him The Avenger’s extortion text message, but it’s gone. I stare at the screen for a few seconds, and then scroll up. Nothing. Did I accidentally delete it? Was it there at all? Yes. It was real. The amount of money she asked for is permanently emblazoned in my mind. I start to bite my fingernails and realize it’s not a good idea. I need to stay focused. Why is this happening? Even the first text I received, warning me to stay away from Christian while I was at Evan Mueller’s party, has disappeared. All of her texts have disappeared. I’ll have to restore my text messages from the cloud backup when I get home. They have to be there.
I put on a cheerful face for Christian when I meet him at my locker. We walk to the parking lot in companionable silence. He opens the driver side door for me after I unlock the car, and goes around to the front passenger side. Once inside, he gets chatty.
“What’s wrong, babe? You can talk to me.”
I stick the key in the ignition and start the car. The temperature barely made it to forty-five degrees today. I crank up the heat.
“I’m having a bad day. I can handle it.”
He strokes my hair. “Tell me about it.”
“It’s not worth discussing. There are more important things we could talk about.”
“Like what?”
“Thanksgiving. You’re invited. Sorry for the short notice. Frances and Callie are coming too.”
“To experience Mrs. Cooper’s Thanksgiving dinner instead of watching it on TV? That’s a treat. I would love to come. Under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
He moistens his lips with his tongue.
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