Dear Jackie,
Thanks so much for writing me. I absolutely loved THE REAL FAMILY STONE OF PORTLAND, OREGON. I think it’s terrible that ATN is using the show to hurt your family. I can’t even imagine having no privacy like that, especially at such a hard time. (Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t watching.) Keep those videos coming.
If you want to write back, it’s better to send e-mail to [email protected].
Your friend,
Hazel Huck
Jackie went immediately to her computer.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Trapped!
Hi, Hazel—Thanks for writing me back! I was so happy to see your letter. The producer from ATN—a pretty big jerkface named Ethan—took away my phone yesterday so I can’t shoot any more videos. My mom bought me a new one, which I tried to hide in my shoe and sneak into my house, but he took that one away, too. My mom says we’re on strike now, and we’re not to give them anything interesting to film. Anyway, I’m telling you because, really, I don’t know who else to tell. Thanks for listening. YOUR friend, Jackie Stone
Two minutes after Jackie sent the message, she received a Facebook friend request from GuinevertheGlad. As soon as she clicked the “accept” button, an instant message popped up.
Hazel
Jackie?
Jackie
Hazel?
Hazel
Lol. Yes.
Jackie
How did you find me?
Hazel
Your e-mail address is a pretty unique handle.
Jackie noticed that Hazel had over four hundred friends. It made her feel silly for having only twenty, and most of those were really just acquaintances who more than likely felt sorry for her.
Hazel
Listen, I have an idea for how to help you.
Jackie
How?!?!?
Hazel
Have you ever played World of Warcraft?
PART FIVE
Rebellion
Saturday, October 24
Megan Stone liked being popular. She liked it a lot.
Okay, sure, it was horrible that Daddy was so sick, but if her family had to endure the unfairness of his disease, then at least they could do it on TV, where they would be famous, and rich, and powerful. How many other kids’ dads get cancer? Lots. But none of them, Megan was sure, ever get to be on television.
And now her mother was ruining it.
Right there in Megan’s house were the biggest, fanciest television cameras in the world, the most important producers, and the wealthiest sponsors, and all they wanted to do was film her, Megan Stone. Okay, maybe not her specifically, but still. And now she wasn’t allowed to talk to them? It was so unfair. Megan knew it had to be because of Jackie and her stupid YouTube thing.
She couldn’t understand her sister. If Jackie would just let her hair down and try a little makeup, she’d be pretty. And wasn’t that better than being smart? What was so good about being a brainiac? Weren’t those kids the ones who got picked on? Wasn’t their life kind of miserable? It’s not that Megan wanted to do badly in school—and she didn’t—it’s that she knew there were more important things.
If Megan wasn’t allowed to talk to the producers, if she didn’t talk on camera, she wouldn’t be on the show. What would the kids at school think if Megan wasn’t on TV anymore? They would think she was a loser, that’s what. She would become a nobody. And to a girl like Megan Stone, there was nothing worse.
Just before she went to bed later that night, the same day her mom had laid down the law about the family doing nothing to cooperate with the Life and Death producers, she did something she hadn’t done in ages. She got on her knees and prayed.
“Dear God, please help my mom understand how wrong she is. Daddy wanted us to be on this television show, and we owe it to him to see it through. Please send me a sign so I’ll know what’s right.”
When Megan stepped out of school the following Monday and saw the limousine waiting for her—when all her friends saw the limousine waiting for her—Megan knew her prayers had been answered.
***
The meeting in Azeroth, a war council called by the all-powerful Guinevere the Glad, stretched over three days. It took place in a stone castle on a windswept virtual plain. The building was an impressive structure surrounded by a moat filled with unspeakable pixilated terrors. Looming above it all were twin spires, each flying pennants. It looked like a cross between Churchill Downs and Westminster Abbey. The grandeur of the location underscored the gravity of the meeting inside.