Web of Darkness

by Bali Rai

  ‘She has a huge bag with her too,’ Danny told us. ‘It barely fits in her locker. Apparently, she’s telling everyone that she’s got a modelling contract.’

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  Kane nodded in agreement. ‘She told me at registration,’ he revealed. ‘Said she’s gonna be a star.’

  I watched Molly totter away on her ridiculous heels, and hoped for her sake that she was telling the truth. She had been the first girl in our year to wear makeup and what Dr Woods would call ‘inappropriate’ clothing. I wondered if our principal had seen her today. Obviously not, because she was still dressed the same way.

  ‘You can see her arse,’ said Danny. ‘Like, seriously?’

  Tilly was absent, and I wanted to text her, but I didn’t know how she’d react.

  ‘You OK?’ asked Kane.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You’re staring at nothing,’ he added.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I replied. ‘Just thinking about stuff.’

  ‘Where’s Tilly?’ asked Danny, like he could read my mind. ‘Did you two make up?’

  Kane looked right into my eyes, and I felt like a little girl with a crush. I managed to hold his gaze for maybe five seconds.

  ‘Have you spoken to her?’ he asked.

  I felt my lower lip tremble and took a deep breath. ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ I told him. ‘Not now.’

  Kane smiled and took my hand. I felt a surge of desire, and my face coloured. ‘You listened to me,’ he said, ‘about Max and all that. Now I can listen to you. If you want . . .’

  Danny’s gossip radar was back and on full power. ‘Oh my!’ he said. ‘Is this some karmic-love thing hatching?’

  ‘Shut up, Danny,’ ordered Kane, letting my hand fall. Only he didn’t look embarrassed or anything. He looked concerned for me. It was me who fought back awkwardness and looked away, towards the main block. Molly was standing by the doors with a lad called Lakh, her hand on his arm. He leaned in and whispered something in her ear.

  ‘That looks more like romance to me,’ I said, hoping to deflect Danny’s prying.

  Kane and Danny turned to see. ‘What the hell?’ Danny said in surprise. ‘Molly kept that quiet. Excuse me, you two, but I have an investigation to carry out . . .’ He walked off towards Molly and her latest flirt.

  ‘I was being serious, you know,’ said Kane.

  ‘About talking?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah – like, any time,’ he replied. ‘I know how close you and Tilly are.’

  ‘She’s forgotten that,’ I said, even though it wasn’t true.

  Kane put his hand on my arm. I grew tense – not because I disliked his touch. I liked it too much. ‘You wanna come over later?’ he asked.

  I shrugged and tried to look calm. Only I couldn’t escape the feeling that we were going somewhere, Kane and me. Somewhere exciting.

  ‘Well, I’ll be home in an hour,’ he added. ‘Up to you.’

  Later, when I got to Kane’s, he took me up to his bedroom. It was neat and tidy, and smelled like freshly washed clothes – mine was a festering tip in comparison. A couple of huge posters were pinned to the pale blue walls. One showed an orange Lamborghini, and the other Nelson Mandela as a young man. Kane’s desk was piled with books – all of them about politics.

  ‘You studying to become Prime Minister?’ I joked.

  ‘I like to know stuff,’ he explained. ‘But I’m thinking about doing politics at college.’

  ‘I’m worried about this year,’ I told him. ‘What’s happened to Max has seriously affected my revision – I can’t concentrate. And I feel bad for saying that too. How can I complain about my exams when Max and Amy are dead?’

  ‘I feel the same way,’ he replied. ‘We’ve got to try and focus, though – our GCSEs are too important. It’s gonna be difficult with Max gone, but we can’t fail. That wouldn’t help anyone.’ He sat at his desk, and gestured to the bed. I felt reassured in his company – and more confident too. ‘Take a seat,’ he said.

  I sat and looked out of his window while Kane tapped at his laptop – a sleek, silver one.

  ‘You should see my PC,’ I told him. ‘It’s so old it gets a pension.’

  ‘I could sort you a new one,’ he replied. ‘Alfie’s always got a spare lying about. I think he robs geeks in his spare time.’

  ‘That’s not nice,’ I joked. ‘I like geeks.’

  He logged into Facebook and scrolled up and down his timeline. ‘Usual crap,’ he said. ‘You still chatting to that American boy?’

  I shook my head. It was time to be honest. ‘He pissed me off,’ I told him. ‘I’m done with him.’

  ‘Sent me a friend request last night,’ Kane revealed. ‘Weird. I ignored it.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  Kane swivelled to face me, as I wondered what Benedict was playing at. After our bust-up, why contact one of my friends? His behaviour was getting stranger and stranger.

  ‘Dunno, but I never friend strangers,’ he explained. ‘And I set my privacy on the harshest level. Facebook is full of attachments that carry viruses and that. I know people who download any shit they get sent – stupid.’

  ‘I’ve never even looked at privacy settings,’ I admitted, slightly embarrassed and annoyed – I was one of the idiots Kane was talking about.

  He shook his head. ‘You should,’ he told me. ‘You can’t let the whole world view your page. People out there are weird.’

  ‘Like the nutters on Amy’s page?’

  ‘Exactly,’ he replied. ‘And take a look – Max’s memorial page got trolled too.’

  I stood and approached him. His shoulders filled the red hoodie, almost to bursting, and I could smell citrus from his skin. The screen showed Max’s page, and Kane tapped his perfect fingers against a few comments.

  ‘People are sick,’ he said. ‘Like, what did Max ever do to them?’

  I moved closer still, and leaned in. ‘Who set the page up?’

  Kane shrugged. ‘His family, maybe?’ he replied. ‘I don’t really know.’

  ‘Wouldn’t they delete the nasty stuff, though?’ I asked.

  ‘Maybe they haven’t seen it,’ he suggested. ‘I know they’re upset because they can’t bury him yet. The investigation is taking ages. Like with Amy.’

  ‘Have you spoken to them?’

  ‘To his mum,’ said Kane. ‘She was a mess.’

  I read some of the cruel comments and nodded. ‘I want to see her, but I can’t,’ I said. ‘I’d get too emotional and that’s the last thing Max’s parents need. I hope they haven’t seen this.’

  Kane clicked back to his own page, and I stood up straight. I didn’t move, though.

  ‘What happened with American boy, then?’ he asked.

  I looked at Kane’s screen wallpaper – another picture of Nelson Mandela, only he was older here.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘He got a bit weird,’ I admitted. ‘Like after those messages I showed you?’

  ‘Weird how?’

  ‘Just odd,’ I said. ‘Like, he wanted me to send him selfies . . .’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Just one,’ I replied. ‘Nothing slutty or anything. But he wanted more and then I started to revise and didn’t message him for ages, like I told you. And he wouldn’t take the hint. He was messaging me constantly.’ I was praying that Kane wouldn’t be put off by my admission of the selfie.

  ‘That wind him up – you not replying?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘He told me I was no fun. Said he’d rather chat to Molly Cooper and girls like her. He said some horrible things.’

  ‘His loss.’

  I stepped back a touch, aware that my skin was burning. I wondered if he could feel the heat too. It didn’t seem like it.

  ‘Then there’s the webcam,’ I continued. ‘I’m still convinced I didn’t give him my address.’

  ‘So, how did he find it?’ asked Kane.

  ‘That’s just it,’ I replied. ‘He rec
kons I did tell him. Can I show you?’

  Kane wheeled back a bit and nodded. ‘All yours,’ he said with a warm smile.

  Opening a new window, I logged into my Facebook. I clicked the icon and scrolled back through my chat with Benedict. ‘Here,’ I said, pointing at the screen.

  ‘That’s your address for real,’ said Kane, turning the laptop his way.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘but I swear I never sent it.’

  Kane raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I know I sound crazy,’ I replied. ‘But I would remember, Kane. It’s doing my head in.’

  Kane thought for a moment. ‘Strange,’ he said. ‘Why the webcam anyway?’

  ‘He wanted to video chat.’

  ‘Ain’t your PC got one built in?’ he asked.

  ‘My computer was built by the Romans, I told you,’ I replied, as Kane returned to my home page. He was about to speak when his jaw dropped open. ‘Shit!’

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  He turned the screen towards me. I’d been tagged in a post with over a hundred others. I saw a video-still of Molly Cooper – half naked and staring back from a webcam. Underneath was a website link.

  The only comment asked people to share the video, and to ‘name and shame this slut’.

  The comment, the link, and the post came from me . . .

  PART THREE

  Girl #2 turns into the narrow lane on time. The OTHER watches her walk past a double-glazing factory. She totters and sways on heels too high. She is oblivious to her surroundings. Too busy reading his messages on her phone.

  The lane runs behind and beneath Waitrose. It is quiet. Secluded, yet accessible too. His phone buzzes.

  ‘I’m here. Where are you?’

  ‘One minute.’

  She passes his car. Doesn’t even glance at him. Her overnight bag – tan leather – is heavy. She alternates between hands. Her cheeks are flushed, her brow glistens.

  The OTHER gets out – takes a quick look around. No one coming. No one walking a dog or taking a short cut. He approaches her. She turns. Her face is a picture. Confusion – total and utter – creases her pretty features.

  ‘Sir? What are you doing here?’ she asks.

  The OTHER smiles. ‘Surprised?’

  She does not answer. Not with his hands clamped over her mouth and around her head. She doesn’t even struggle. Her eyes hold the scream that her mouth cannot cry.

  ‘The truth is a wonderful thing,’ he tells her.

  He drags her to the car. Puts her in the boot. Closes it and goes to retrieve her bag. No point in leaving evidence lying around.

  ‘Welcome to celebrity,’ he chuckles, as he drives away.

  26

  ‘How the hell could I post that?’ I asked, panicked and angry at once. ‘I’m here with you!’

  Kane didn’t reply. He was too busy watching the comments rack up. Manisha Patel, Jamie, even Danny got on it . . .

  ‘Twenty-eight likes already,’ said Kane. ‘What the fuck is happening?’

  I felt my stomach turn, and sat down on his bed. Kane grabbed his phone, pointing it at me.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

  ‘If I take your picture, it’ll have a time code,’ he explained. ‘We can prove you were here – if we need to.’

  ‘Why do we need to prove anything?’ I asked. ‘I’ve not done anything wrong.’

  Kane shrugged. ‘Won’t hurt,’ he replied.

  I let him continue, my head spinning. How had someone hacked my Facebook account whilst Kane and I were accessing it? And why the malicious posts? ‘I’m gonna be sick,’ I said.

  Kane made me sit down with my head between my legs and sat next to me. ‘Who else knows your Facebook password?’ he asked.

  ‘No one,’ I replied through deep breaths.

  ‘Not even Tilly?’

  I sat up and gave him a glare. ‘Tilly would never do this,’ I insisted.

  I was convinced of it too. Despite all our problems, I knew she loved me. She’d said so. She would never do this to me, no matter what.

  ‘Does she know your password or not?’ Kane asked again.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘At least I think so – but this isn’t her, Kane!’

  ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Your Facebook password?’

  ‘Why?’

  Kane looked at my home page. The likes and comments were building up. ‘Is it easy to guess?’ he said. ‘Like, for people who know you?’

  I shrugged. ‘How do I know?’ I replied. ‘It’s my mum’s maiden name with her birth year after it.’

  ‘Your mum’s Sikh, right?’ he said.

  ‘Punjabi,’ I corrected. ‘She doesn’t do religion.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘but she would have been called Kaur, wouldn’t she? Like other Punjabi women?’

  The surprise must have shown.

  ‘Everyone knows that,’ he said. ‘At least everyone with Sikh friends does.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Mother’s maiden name is a default security question on loads of sites,’ he pointed out. ‘If I knew your mum, I could guess at “Kaur”, no problem. Then I’d just need her birthday.’

  I saw where he was going. ‘Yeah,’ I countered, ‘but you’d have to make the connection. Like, know that’s how I constructed my password.’

  Kane nodded slowly. ‘Good point.’

  ‘No one would guess that – it’s too random.’

  ‘What about a virus?’ he asked.

  ‘How would I know?’

  Kane grabbed his laptop and moved next to me. He typed a search into Google. ‘Here’s a list of suspicious things that infected PCs might do,’ he said.

  I read through the list and realized a few had happened on mine. My hands felt clammy and my heartbeat raced. I felt almost violated – like someone was rifling through my most private things.

  ‘The screen went blank the other day – like it was dead,’ I told him. ‘Then it started up again. It does that a lot and the mouse does its own thing sometimes too. And it’s always slow.’

  ‘Have you downloaded anything dodgy?’

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t look at dodgy stuff,’ I told him. ‘I’m not a boy.’

  Kane smiled, despite this horrible situation. For a second it made me feel better – but only a second. ‘I ain’t talking porn,’ he said. ‘I mean, like, attachments or those stupid links people stick on FB.’

  I thought hard. Usually, I ignored anything like that. The only one I remembered came from Amy – nearly six months earlier now. She had been posting links to anti-bullying websites, in what I now realized might have been a plea for help, and I had viewed them all. One of them had required a download.

  ‘Amy posted a link,’ I told him. ‘A video blog about Internet bullying. Tilly and me looked at it. Max too. I think we were the only ones she tagged in it – apart from Molly. Everyone else just took the piss anyway.’

  ‘You sure there was nothing else?’

  ‘No – just that one.’

  ‘Was the link OK?’

  I nodded. ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘apart from the first bit.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It was some unrecognized format – I had to download a software program to watch it. We all did.’

  Kane’s eyes lit up. ‘A video file that wouldn’t open on anything else?’

  ‘It said that,’ I revealed. ‘But after I downloaded the software, it still played on Windows Media.’

  Kane thought a moment. ‘Anything else weird or odd?’

  ‘No,’ I replied.

  ‘You OK if we get Alfie to check your computer?’

  ‘Check it when?’

  Kane grabbed his phone. Seconds later, I heard a reggae ringtone from the landing – Kane hadn’t closed his door. ‘You home, bro?’ he asked.

  ‘Standing at your door,’ said Alfonso.

  We turned to look at him. He was tall, like Kane, but much bigger. His head was shaved, and his face, although plump, was
an older version of Kane’s – they had the same pale brown eyes and smooth, caramel skin. Alfonso wore navy jeans, trainers and a blue and white checked shirt,

  ‘Bruv,’ said Kane, ‘this is Lily.’

  ‘Hey,’ I said.

  When he smiled, Alfonso’s entire face shone. The brothers exchanged glances before Alfie replied.

  ‘Sister,’ he said. ‘A pleasure to meet you properly.’

  ‘You too, Alfonso.’

  He grinned. ‘Alfie, please,’ he insisted. ‘What can I do for you?’

  Kane explained what had happened, and showed Alfie the laptop.

  ‘You should change your Facebook password,’ Alfie told me. ‘Like, right now.’ He made a few clicks, then gave me the laptop.

  I changed the password to my father’s name, Dalbir, with his birth year on the end. No one knew my dad’s first name except for family and Tilly.

  ‘Where’s your PC?’ Alfie asked.

  The journey to mine was short and fast. Alfie’s Mercedes was the nicest car I’d ever been in. The stereo was so loud the bass made my ribs vibrate. And the seats hugged me like a long-lost aunt. When we reached my house, I didn’t want to move. I had no idea what would be waiting for me when I booted up my computer.

  Inside, I led them straight upstairs, logged on, and Kane and I accessed my Facebook. It asked for my new password and took a while to load. When it did, I quickly wished that it hadn’t. My home page was going crazy.

  Alfie had taken a briefcase from his boot, and opened it on my bed. ‘Various bits I might have to use,’ he said. He took out a small laptop, and some flash drives. ‘How old is this thing?’ he asked, eyeing my PC like it was a turd.

  ‘I dunno – maybe five years?’ I replied. ‘I hate it.’

  He gave me a pitying look then set to work. ‘You make tea?’ he asked, tapping at my keyboard.

  ‘Sometimes,’ I replied.

  ‘Good time, this,’ he added. ‘Three sugars, strong as you like . . .’

  I took Kane downstairs, as Alfie began to mumble to himself. When we got back, five minutes later, he was sitting staring at the screen.