I snapped a pic of Jonah with my Doc.
“You blinked,” I said. “Doesn’t matter. You so much as post one more video of a girl, even if it’s only of your cousin cuddling a kitten, and I will send your mom, your aunts and grandma, your cousins, teachers, and friends, not to mention whatever person is dumb enough to one day date you, everything you’ve ever done. Sharma has it all backed up on her Doc. You sneeze in the wrong online direction, and we will link and woofer you in all the worlds you’re a part of until there will be so many people coming after you, you can’t move online.”
Sharma had the good sense not to look at me like I was crazy. Instead she adjusted her glasses and smiled malevolently. For all I knew she had downloaded all of Jonah’s files.
“And that’s a threat,” Rory said, tipping an imaginary hat. “Well played, Ms. Cheng. Finally.”
The whole ride back to New York, all I saw was that name on the screen.
“Just to be clear,” Sharma told me, “you need to obliterate the source file, which means the original download she got off the Faculty Activities board. It must be on her Doc.”
How ironic that we’d gone all the way to Philly to do what I could have done a few blocks from my house. On the bus ride home, as Rory and Sharma mused over all the nasty things they could do to her, including changing all the sizes on her InStitches filters so everything she ordered would always be four sizes too small or link a paparazzi drone to her Doc signal so she could feel what it was like to be stalked, I filled in all the gaps.
“Oh gosh,” I said when the city came into view. “Quick, I need pen and paper.”
I met with three blank stares. With only ten more minutes until we hit midtown, my seat was poked gently from behind. The woman looked seventy but was probably much older.
“Here, dear. I always carry a pen.”
The note card she gave me had little frogs on it. As I wrote out AnyLiesUnmade, I finally, after seventeen years, saw what Mom meant about the advantages of paper. No wonder it was such a mysterious code name. How blind could I be? I txted her as the bus pulled up to our stop on East Broadway, quickly switching out her profile icon on my Doc for a much more appropriate one.
moi Hey, I feel bad about the way we left things. Where you at?
Her reply was almost instantaneous.
About to sit down to dinner with the Parents.
When we disembarked, Rory and Sharma said they were getting Korean BBQ and asked if we wanted to come.
“Yes, but no thanks. I have to go talk to my ex–best friend. And Sharma”—I grabbed her arm and pulled her into a hug—“you were never a fourth wheel. Don’t you dare condense yourself around me ever again.”
“Awkward.”
But she was smiling when I released her, and I was treated to a half second of Sharma’s sparkling eye contact.
After that, Mac and I dodged tourists and made a beeline for the trains at Herald Square. My palms were already sweating. It was like before I stepped up to the podium at a final. Watching the other rounds proceed, my stomach was always a knot of nerves, my arguments running through my head, and it was like my twitching legs were saying, Seriously? Fight? Flight is the best way to handle this situation. And then they started the timer and all my preparation fell into place. What I’d forgotten amid all the nerves was that I all-caps LOVED a good argument.
And then?
I crushed you. Sorry, but it’s true.
On the Q train back to Brooklyn, I clutched Mac’s hand.
“Let me come with you,” he said.
I shook my head. “I need to do this alone. I’ll be okay.”
“Yes, you will be, bonita.”
After only a second’s hesitation, Mac tilted my chin upwards and kissed me. And just like when he kissed me on our date, I knew I was in trouble.
“Macky?” I said, between the kissing.
“Mm-hmm.”
I whispered into his ear, “Will you do that thing with your thumb to me sometime?”
His eyes clouded—that thing with my thumb?—then he laughed. “Turn around.”
“You’re going to do it here?”
“Just turn around.”
I did. We were on a two-seater, so now I faced out into the aisle. An older man across the way tipped his hat. I waved. Meanwhile, Mac collected my hair and slung it over my left shoulder. After giving me a quick kiss on my neck, he ran his fingers down my back. And right at the arch of my back, he pressed his thumb into my spine. It hit just, like, every knot of tension I’d ever had. An inappropriately loud groan escaped me. Fawn was right: I absolutely melted.
“Macky, I feel like we’ve lost so much time.”
I turned back to him.
“Nah, our time’s just beginning.”
Then we kissed again. Maybe more than once, because when I opened my eyes, we were at the DeKalb stop, Mac’s transfer.
“I have been waiting so long to do this,” he whispered.
“Let’s do it again later,” I whispered back. “Let’s do it all the time.”
He laughed, “Deal.”
After one last quick smooch, he darted off the train, making it just as the doors closed. Grinning, he gave me the thumbs-up until the train pulled out of the station. Across from me a woman in a turban and ankle-length down coat winked. My cheeks flushed.
“I remember the first time I fell in love,” she said. “Lucky girl.”
The first time, because there would be more. And right at that moment, I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop smiling. Lucky. Debaters scoff at luck, but you know what? I did feel lucky.
Just like that, my predebate jitters were gone. When I got off at my stop, I was as serene as a lake on a windless day. When I got to her brownstone, a yellow Hydrogen Coop was parked in front. That solved that. She’d wanted her own car for as long as I could remember. Said she knew it was overindulgent, but there it was. She must have bought it with the video earnings. I took the steps two at a time. Rang the bell bouncing on my toes. I couldn’t wait for this to start. As Mac would say, I was so aces right now.
It all pretty much unraveled from there.
Audra answered the door. She was clad in slouchy gray sweats, a tattered white tank with no bra underneath, and not a stitch of makeup. This wasn’t Audra caught unawares. This was as much a look as if she were decked out in Gucci. A typical teen’s casual attire didn’t involve popcorn-sized diamond studs. Popped-popcorn-sized studs, mind you—no kernels there. They were like the earrings that Mac’s cousins all sported, except Audra’s rocks weren’t fake. This time we didn’t exchange a squealing hug.
“Have a photo shoot today?” I asked.
“Yup.” She elevated her chin.
“Cool. Are you still eating or can I come in?”
“We’re almost done.” She looked back over her shoulder, hesitated, then shrugged. “Why not?”
Locking the door behind me, she asked, “So did you confront your big hater?”
“Not yet.”
I’m about to.
As we made our way through the downstairs, I pulled up the AnyLies txt thread.
I typed,
moi Gotcha