by LJ Byrne
“Yeah. He wanted me to look at the attacks – on the surface, the usual stuff. But the viruses and worms and bots… RatGh0st is a script kiddie. The cut-and-paste of various codes. I also found some wire transfers.”
“Excuse me?”
He laughs. “Yeah, don’t ask. So, you know how banks keep an eye on transactions that exceed a certain amount?”
“Yes.”
“Well, they also keep an eye on mini-transactions that add up. Up until the first wave of attacks, the banks that were attacked were investigating some of these mini-transactions.”
I frown. “You sound like you’re more involved with this than helping with a few files.”
“I am. Angel, if what you found is connected, this might be a really big deal. I need you to be careful. Don’t leave any footprints. Do you want me to contact RReagan for you and get this over to him?”
I sigh. “Yes, please. I’ll upload it now. And don’t forget who you’re talking to. I know how to be invisible.”
After we end the chat, I start infiltrating the school system. Yes, this is on the shadier side of things, but I know the school’s security system is integrated with their network. I’m so caught up in my work that by the time I’m set up, hours have passed, and I’ve totally forgotten my plan to meet up with Ryder. I fall asleep near my laptop.
001101
In the morning, I see a host of messages from Ryder. My phone was in silent mode. He likely thought I blew him off. The first few texts are teasing and curious, but the messages become irritable. I feel like a texted apology isn’t enough. I will apologize profusely when I see him.
Celeste, Connor, and I spot Ryder on our way to chem class. He’s clustered in a corner with Xander and Ingrid, but Ryder’s stony expression tells me the conversation is unpleasant. His lips barely move when he speaks to her, and he hardly looks her way. Xander has his hands on his hips, lips pressed thin, as Ingrid gestures to them, her face sharp and intent. Ryder shakes his head once, hands clenched, at something Ingrid says to him, while Xander runs his hand down his face in exasperation. Then something Ingrid says causes Ryder to glare at her. Every line of his body tenses with anger and irritation. He moves as if to push her but stops when Xander barks a warning. Ryder stiffens, turning to look at me. I’m taken aback by the hostility rolling off him in waves. He snaps a response to Ingrid before walking towards me, Xander on his heels. Ingrid doesn’t follow.
“Where were you last night?” Ryder demands irritably. “I texted and called you.”
Oops. Right. I mean to apologize for that. “Sorry, I fell asleep,” I tell him. Wow. That might go down in history as one of the worst apologies ever.
“I waited for you.” There’s a bitter tone to his voice. He sounds hurt and angry at the same time.
“Want to walk with us to class?” I ask, flinching a little under his scrutiny.
“No, I don’t.” Without a goodbye, Ryder storms off. Xander hesitates before following his friend.
I shouldn’t be hurt. I’m guilty of not being a good – girlfriend? Friend? What am I?
“What bit his ass this morning?” Celeste grumbles to Connor.
“That’s just Ryder. He was born a prick. He’ll die a prick,” his cousin says without much rancor. “What are your plans for spring break?”
Celeste makes a little moue with her lips. “Mom’s dragging me to Europe. France really.”
“I’ll be heading to England. Mother and Father have asked me to attend some event.” Connor’s shoulders slump a bit. He’s been in the States so much that his accent is an odd mix of British English and East Coast twang. “If you get bored in France, let me know.”
I suppose telling them that I intend to be doing a hackathon with Ne0Ranger21 is not a good idea, although the chances that they’re into fuel-air explosives aren’t good. Still, I’m not comfortable talking about my online skills.
Ethan and Darcy are heading to Florida, and then, as the King of the Royals, Ethan is hosting a major party at the school’s lake house. I’ve been invited to Florida, but I seriously doubt they want me to tag along as a third wheel.
“We should do a joint trip together next year,” Celeste suggests as we slip into class. “Maybe I won’t even be a Court member with Ingrid running things.”
Connor smiles at her. “Would that be such a bad thing? We could escape Ingrid’s annoying presence together.”
Their friendly banter keeps my mind off Ryder. We tease each other until class begins.
“I’ll be glad when we don’t have gym anymore,” Celeste tells me.
We tense when Ingrid saunters by with Victoria. “Hello, Orphan Annie,” Ingrid says cheerfully. “Did you know my father knew your mother?” Before I can respond, she continues, “He told me wild tales about her. Let’s just say your mom got around.”
Celeste comes to my defense. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!” she snaps.
Ingrid pretends to examine her nails. “Maybe. Or maybe the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Gwen the Wench. That was her nickname. She tried to ensnare a few rich men. You just have to wonder what loser fucked her to create you.”
Ingrid’s crudeness is appalling. “You’re pathetic,” I tell her, but Ingrid just laughs with Victoria. It’s like they know something I don’t.
“Well, maybe now that Ryder knows, he’ll have second thoughts about getting involved with a gold digger’s daughter.” Ingrid flips her silky hair. “Have a nice day.”
Celeste huffs in disbelief. “Can you believe that girl? There is not one nice bone in her body.”
I agree with her, but the encounter leaves me troubled. Why bring up Mom now? I remember Aunt Erika’s comment about Ernest Whitman, Ingrid’s father. Is he the one giving Ingrid information? Whatever is being said, it can’t be true. Mom was a decent, good person. She explained how hormones shouldn’t blur the lines when it comes to respect and decency.
Remember, Mira. Love yourself as much as I love you. If the guy you fall for isn’t Mr. Right, then love yourself enough to leave. Don’t get trapped. The right man makes all the difference. You’ll know because he’ll become a better person because of you. You can’t fix someone who’s broken. The right man will fix himself because he wants to.
The memory of her voice is fresh. It envelops me and brings tears. The memory of her is still brutal. Celeste thinks I’m hurt about Ingrid’s words. I’m not. But I could really use my mother’s arms right now.
001110
Ethan pulls me aside for heart-to-heart cousin talk. (To be honest, I don’t know if that’s even a thing, but it’s the only description I could come up with.)
Sitting on the edge of my bed, my handsome cousin looks troubled. “Mira, I know you and Ryder are sort of a thing.”
That’s an understatement. Ryder can’t seem to decide how serious we are. Rather than complicate the matter, I nod slowly.
“Do you like him?” Ethan asks, eyes lowered.
If I were feeling snappy, I’d point out that the answer is an obvious yes. “I think so,” I say instead. Of all the conversations I want to have with Ethan, this is not high on my list. “I’ve never been in a relationship with a guy before.”
“Darcy says I can’t protect you from everything.” Sighing, Ethan pats me awkwardly on the back. “I’m going to try and ease up on being overly protective. This is all I ask. When we’re on campus, I don’t want you in Ryder’s room after nine. And he doesn’t need to walk you back to your room or anything. That just leads to him wanting to linger. This is new to you, so don’t rush into the relationship.”
“Um, that’s easing up? I’m seventeen, Ethan, not ten.”
Ethan evades my glare. “I know, I know. Just for the time being, can you do that? Can you not rush into full-blown boyfriend-girlfriend mode with Ryder?”
Ethan’s concern is touching and weird. To be honest, how am I supposed to react? Then again, Ryder and I are moving at glacial speed. Agreeing to Ethan’s req
uests is harmless. Maybe it will make him less anxious. “Okay. I mean, I will take it slow. When we’re at school, I will be in my room, safe and sound, by nine whenever possible. Safe and sound and alone,” I amend.
Reassured, Ethan relaxes. “I’ll try and explain my worries to you later. Just, for now, believe me when I say that I’m trying to protect you the best I can.”
After my odd conversation with Ethan, I take the time to go through some of my mother’s journals back at the house. It’s something I’ve been doing gradually. Not unexpectedly, there is the usual gossip.
Today Cassidy told everyone that I have a crush on P. It’s not true. I can’t stand him. I’m just irritated because he pulls my pigtails all the time. Erika acts like she’s ten years older rather than ten minutes older. Her hair is not in braids because she’s too mature.
I notice that Mom only uses the names of family and friends. All guys are referred to with a single letter.
Erika has met the man she’s going to marry. She told me this today. She’s sixteen. R is very nice and he’s good looking to boot. But love at 16? Can you fall in love so quickly and easily? I’m sure it is just a phase. I find myself ambivalent at 16. All the things Erika loves – the parties, the dresses, the shoes – mean little to me. I am a doll for my parents’ pleasure. They parade us around: the pretty Anderson twins. We’re well-to-do. Not grossly wealthy like some of our neighbors. That’s why we’re dressed up like pretty offerings to rich boys around town.
Am I wrong to dislike these things? I always go like I’m supposed to. Erika would be sad if I didn’t. I think she knows that my mind and heart are not in it. Dad would very much like it if I were willing to date E. I don’t like him. There is something about his hands that bothers me. When we were little, I remember he found an injured bird. He killed it just to make me cry. E likes me a little too much. When we sat down at dinner the other night, he put his hand on my leg under the table! I thought I would be sick.
E? Ernest Whitman? I want to ask Aunt Erika, but I’m not sure if I want to know yet.
I bounce over when someone knocks at my door. I’m guessing it’s Ethan freshly returned from Darcy’s swim meet. I’m a terrible friend. I know I should be there for Darcy and Connor, but Arthur Huxley is also on the swim team. That means Ingrid is likely to be present. So, I told Darcy the partial truth: I wanted to read my mom’s journals. I also spent the morning doing a pen test with Ne0Ranger21.
When I open the door, I gape like an idiot. Ryder Cabot stands in my doorway, and he doesn’t look particularly happy. It’s been weeks since we’ve talked even though we see each other during mealtimes and classes. The avoidance hasn’t just been on his side either – it’s also been on mine. I want to tell him about my alter ego as a hacker. If we’re to progress, I need to share that part of myself with him.
“Hi,” I say somewhat awkwardly. Should I invite him into my bedroom? Do I need Ethan’s permission? Is it sleazy to let a boy walk into my room?
Apparently, sleazy doesn’t bother Ryder because he saunters right in, our shoulders brushing as he walks past me. He sucks in his breath before continuing.
He paces, running his hand through his hair so that it’s gently tousled. He’s all in gray today: gray wool coat, gray slacks, a pale gray shirt that stretches over his chest. A literal walking teen model. “We should take a break,” he states suddenly, his blue eyes averted.
Okay, does this mean we were together and he wants a break? I mean, we hung out. We kissed. We went to a dance. But we never went out on dates. Is this normal? My first relationship ends before it begins with me getting dumped. Pain? Disappointment? I’m not sure. “Alright.” My voice is curiously faint. “I guess we never really made anything official.”
Ryder latches on that. “Right. Exactly. You seem occupied with school.”
I rub my temple with my right hand. “I’ve been busy.” It’s strange. I know I’m speaking. I know Ryder is speaking, but everything sounds far away.
Ryder steps towards me, reconsiders, then turns away. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.” The way he speaks cuts a little. I know I’m to blame. “Mira, this is just—a temporary break.”
Now I’m utterly confused again as I stare at his back. He looks at me over his shoulder and whatever he sees causes him to face me. I can’t decipher the range of emotions on his face. Abruptly, he hugs me. “This doesn’t mean we’re over.” Before I can reply, he kisses me with an odd, almost desperate, intensity. He stares at me, eyes burning, before he releases me, leaving me gasping for breath.
And just like that, he storms out of my room.
001111
In order to stave off curious relatives and friends, I loop Kitty, my “friend” from home, in. She agrees to be my cover for spring break. I manage to convince Aunt Erika that Kitty’s mom is getting me a free ride on an airline she works for. As such, I pack my bags, buy my ticket with my money (squeal!), and arrive in Washington ready to hack my way to first place. It’s exciting when you have your own money – the sleepless nights were worth every bitcoin in my electronic wallet – and can do your own thing.
When I converge at the arena, I’m vibrating with energy. My phone is off. Everything on my laptop is disabled. You’d be stupid to go into this with anything hackable. After I check in, I find a specific coffee shop and order an iced mocha, wearing a cap with the movie “The Matrix” emblazoned on it so Ne0Ranger21 can find me.
“You know, my favorite movie is The Matrix,” a guy to my right says to me.
I try to hide my smile. “Who’s your favorite character?”
“Neo, of course.”
I turn my head. He’s taller than I expected – not as tall as Ryder but close. His shoulder-length blond hair falls loose. He’s lithe but not overly thin. His green eyes twinkle at me. “Do I pass inspection?”
I don’t bother to hide my smile this time. “Sort of.” I stick my hand out. “Arch4ngel101 at your service. But you can call me Mira.”
“Ne0Ranger21.” He flashes a teasing smile. “You can call me Liam.”
I’ve known this person online for a while, but this is the first time we’ve exchanged real names. It’s both strange and refreshing.
“You’re taller than I thought you’d be,” I say.
“You’re prettier than I thought you’d be,” he responds. “Especially since I expected Mr. No Neck Gunther.”
I burst into laughter. “Want to grab some food?”
“There’s a place around the corner that’s good.”
I squint at him. “You live around here, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am. And don’t worry, we meet and work in open areas. I won’t be following you to your hotel room either.” He cocks his head at me. “I am going to ask how old you are, though.”
I shrug. “Seventeen.”
“I’ll be nineteen this summer. So, I’m like super experienced and a lot more mature than you,” he says with a wink, chuckling when I roll my eyes.
Over lunch, we talk a bit about RReagan. Since I’ve started tracking the account, the mysterious user hasn’t logged back in at school. In fact, it’s been unusually quiet. Liam’s seeing the same thing in the cyberworld. We talk in hushed tones like nervous Nellies.
“You think RatGh0st is tied up with what I found, don’t you?” I ask. “I mean, that’s why we’re both involved. It’s why we were both brought in.”
Liam thinks carefully, chewing on a chip. “Don’t get mad,” he begins, wincing when I narrow my eyes at him, “but I have security clearance.”
“What?”
“NSA. FBI. That kind.”
Well, that makes sense. “You work for the government? You work with RReagan?” I whisper.
“Sort of. More like a consultant right now.” He presses a finger to his lips. “And maybe someday we’ll be coworkers, Angel.” He notes me picking at my sandwich. “Are you mad at me?”
I shake my head. “No. But I think I stepped into something a teenager really s
houldn’t be involved in.”
Liam grimaces as he pulls his hair back into a loose ponytail at the nape. He’s got that surfer boy appeal. “Honestly, I didn’t think you were this young. We certainly didn’t expect it to evolve into something bigger.”
“Geez, it’s not like you’re forty. We’re barely a year or two apart in age. And you look like you could be my age. I can handle the technicalities. I just don’t want to think about the ramifications.”
“That’s because you’re still a kid.”
My eyes widen incredulously. Is he trying to pick a fight? “You can’t drink alcohol.”
His eyes crinkle in mirth. “I surrender. The field is yours.” Taking a long drink of his soda, he changes the subject with a sly smile. “So… this boyfriend or ex-boyfriend of yours still giving you problems?”
Sigh. Liam knows the gist of everything through our online chats. “Sort of. It’s complicated. I mean, I’m seventeen. I’m too young to have romantic notions, right?”
My partner-in-cyber shakes the ice in his cup. “It depends. There’s a lot of shows out there where it sounds like teens find their epic lovemate early. Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The Vampire Diaries.” He shrugs. “I heard something like this in The Vampire Diaries – no laughing! I have two older sisters and they loved that show. But I think it’s true for you. You want a love that consumes you. A guy who will endure anything to be with you, a guy who will give up everything for a chance with you. When you find the guy who does that for you, you’ll know. And it won’t matter if you’re seventeen or seventy.”
“That’s why I like being behind the scenes. There’s a purity, an elegance to programming. You see the pieces and move them. No emotions to deal with. Just satisfaction.”
