I threw up my hands. “Except they posted from @JessieRosenthal! Dr. Graff, can we conference her right now and clear up this whole situation? I wouldn’t have to go anywhere.”
“Kyle,” Dr. Graff sighed. “The Rosenthals are in Europe through the new year, on vacation. He sent these missives through one of his assistants. Now please, let’s shift your focus a bit. A lot of parents in the community are very upset. Many are questioning the integrity of the school. Some have threatened to pull their children out and place them in institutions of what one father called ‘higher moral standing.’ While I don’t necessarily agree with the board’s decision, I do see how it calms the greatest number of people. And it is a final decision.”
“Meaning I have no choice.”
Instead of figuring out who did this to me, Parkside Prep was going to remove me and hope this all went away so that they wouldn’t lose enrollment.
“My mom is going to be very upset when she hears about this.”
It was clear from the set of her features that Graff didn’t like this any better than I did. It was also clear that she was going to enforce it.
“I haven’t said you’re expelled.” The yet went unsaid, but we both heard it. “What we’re mainly discussing here, Kyla, is a few sick days. Might I remind you that when you enrolled at Parkside Preparatory, you signed an honor code?” The holoimage of it now hovered in the air in front of me. “And I quote, ‘I, Kyla Cheng, affirm that I will uphold the highest principles of honesty and integrity in my endeavors at Parkside Preparatory.’”
“Which is exactly what I’m trying to do.”
“I see,” she said. “On a related note, the attendance and security sensor wasn’t solely installed to extend class time by eliminating homeroom. It was meant to allow our faculty and funds a higher focus than babysitting the student body. Don’t think it makes us na?ve. If I catch you or any of your friends using another unapproved pass, the suspension won’t be a suggestion, Ms. Cheng.”
So if I didn’t go quietly, they’d find a way to force me to stay out of school. Dr. Graff, infamous for her stare, now wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“I leave it up to you, Ms. Cheng—a week of sickness or one of suspension? You may finish out your day here and then message me this afternoon with your decision. That will be all.”
Out in the hall, people flowed around me in one big dinging, buzzing, swiping, avat-voice-messaging Monday morning mass. All the Christian-affiliated were harassing the Jewish-and Muslim-and otherwise-affiliated with pics of favorite Christmas gift items, meals they ate, things they had to return. Disruption? Considering the wide swath everyone cut around me, the only life not carrying on as usual was mine.
“What did Graff say?”
Fawn. I dropped my bag and put my head on her shoulder. Her curls tickled my cheek.
“Ooh, loving. Gimme it,” Fawn said, wrapping me in a hug. “You okay, mama?”
Before I could answer, Sharma ran up. It looked like she’d pulled an all-nighter. Her hair was in the exact same topknot she’d worn yesterday when she came over for pancakes, but now it was surrounded by a thousand breakaway frizzes.
“Four,” she said, grinning like the time her code had worked for unlimited credits in the Apocalypsa Fashionista game on her Doc. “Four girls.”
“Sharma, full sentences,” Fawn said.
“Other girls who suffered similar life crashes at the hands of a hater? Answer: Y-E-S. Four. From all over the US: Kansas City girl caught with teach in gym after hours. Cali girl making out with teach in a bar. Florida girl with teach skinny-dipping. Michigan girl and teach, um, cavorting in snowstorm. Plus Trina and you, so six in total. Sent you all the students’ and teachers’ names. And, wincing face, haven’t told you the weirdest part. Kyle, all the girls look just like you.”
Stunned was starting to feel like my permanent state of being.
“There’s more,” Sharma sputtered. “Hope you don’t mind, but reached out to the new four last night using your CB account. They responded quick. Swore it wasn’t them. Two know the exact Woofer footage the hater used to make their vid. Other two will try finding it today.”
“What about all the teachers’ CB accounts?”
Sharma shook her head. “All suspended or deleted.”
“Can you access deleted accounts?” I asked.
“Not easily.” That was the closest Sharma would come to saying no. “Not that it matters—ConnectBook security is so tight, you can’t even run a mutual-connections filter on multiple accounts.”
“Know anyone that can?” I asked.
Sharma pushed up her glasses. “Other than ConnectBook?”
We grinned at each other.
It wasn’t just me and Trina. There were other girls who had suffered through this. And despite what everyone said, there might be a way to crack it. I could glimpse a future in which searching my mom’s company didn’t bring up her daughter’s sex video. A future in which I didn’t have to precede job applications with As I’m sure you’ve noticed…Where I could make a difference, and not in spite of what happened to me.
Fawn looked back and forth between us.
“Wait,” she said, breathless. “Why are we smiling? You lost me at six total sex videos.”
Giddily, I quickly explained. “So far—thanks to Sharma—we know that half of the footage that was used to make these fake sex videos was stolen from Woofer. In order to access Woofer footage, you first have to have a CB account and second have to be ‘connected’ to the person in the footage. Which means, as we speak, the hater is somewhere in here”—I wiggled my Doc—“as one of my CB connections. If we get CB’s help to compare multiple accounts and possibly access the deleted teachers’ info…”
“We can weed out your hater,” Sharma finished.
“Oh my God, my friends are so brilliant,” Fawn squealed, and threw her arms around us.
“Do you know if any of the other girls are txting the hater?”
“Uh, no.” Sharma eyes narrowed with displeasure. “They didn’t mention it. Why? Are you?”
“No, of course not,” I lied.
“So what are you going to message ConnectBook?” Fawn asked as roles reversed and for the first time ever I avoided Sharma’s gaze.
“I’m not going to message them. I’m paying them a visit.”
“Like in person?” Sharma said, glasses sliding down her nose.
“People do still do things face-to-face, Sharmie. Let them try and not help me.”