by K. A. Holt
0BenwhY: T-shirt launcher rocket fuel
0BenwhY: for sending moms to moons?
SB10BEN: well, hello to you, too.
SB10BEN: I’m doing well today, thanks for asking.
SB10BEN: oh, what was that? you just noticed the whole cage of milked fairies? yes. YOU’RE WELCOME.
0BenwhY:
0BenwhY: HOW
0BenwhY: ARE
0BenwhY: YOU
0BenwhY: DOING
0BenwhY: TODAY
0BenwhY: GREAT?
0BenwhY: GREAT
SB10BEN: You know, sometimes it’s nice to pretend you’re interested in other people
SB10BEN: before you launch into complaining and complaining and complaining
0BenwhY: omg, Benicio!
0BenwhY: I’m going to launch you to the moon, too!
SB10BEN: What’s going on, grasshopper? Why are you so annoying, I mean *annoyed*?
0BenwhY: nothing.
SB10BEN: oh come on. you can’t come in here, T-shirt cannons blazing, and then say *nothing*.
0BenwhY: it’s . . . whatever.
0BenwhY: mom is mom
0BenwhY: she just doesn’t listen.
0BenwhY: i was very nice and polite and i even washed the dishes
0BenwhY: without being asked!
0BenwhY: and mom was like, ooooh, shhhh, Esme, don’t tell Benita she has the day wrong
0BenwhY: ooooh, esme, don’t tell Benita it’s not my birthday for two months
0BenwhY: oooh, Esme, what do you think she wants? A surfboard? A pony?
0BenwhY: like, what? why is she making jokes when i’m doing something nice?
0BenwhY: I mean sometimes maybe I just do nice things, ok?
0BenwhY: what if I don’t *have* a reason? or care what day it is?
0BenwhY: why is it a joke if i’m being nice?
SB10BEN: well
SB10BEN: what DID you want?
SB10BEN: what were you buttering mom up for?
0BenwhY: GAH. BENICIO! GIVE ME SOME CREDIT!
SB10BEN:
0BenwhY: Fine. I wanted her to let me move into your old room.
0BenwhY: but she said no
SB10BEN: What? Hahaha. Of course you can’t have my room.
SB10BEN: It’s *my* bedroom, Benita!
0BenwhY: You moved a million miles away. You’re a dumb grown-up now.
0BenwhY: You don’t need an apartment there and a bedroom here.
SB10BEN: Why not?
SB10BEN: What if something happens here? What if I lose my job and have to move home?
0BenwhY: You can’t lose your job! It’s your company!
SB10BEN: I *started* the company, but now we have investors, earning reports to meet . . .
SB10BEN: I could TOTALLY lose my job and have to move home.
SB10BEN: I’m on Mom’s side here. So. Still my room.
For now.
SB10BEN: Plus, it has all my stuff in it.
0BenwhY: OLD stuff.
0BenwhY: Stuff you didn’t need enough to bring with you.
0BenwhY: I knew you’d be on her side. you’re always on her side. no one is ever on my side
SB10BEN: hey! I’m always on your side.
SB10BEN: Except for this one time.
0BenwhY: I hate mom.
0BenwhY: For real.
SB10BEN: Come on. Don’t say that. What if she heard you say that?
SB10BEN: Mom is strong and fierce, just like you.
0BenwhY: I’m not YELLING it, dummy.
0BenwhY: This is a super private chat/server-within-a-server thing, right?
0BenwhY: if it’s a private safe place for testing out super secret sandbox inventions, then I can say mean things without getting in trouble
0BenwhY: unless you’re going to tell on me
0BenwhY: like a baby who still lives at home
SB10BEN:
0BenwhY:
SB10BEN: Nothing is private, you know. Ever.
SB10BEN: If it’s online, it’s hackable, crackable, screenshot-able, whatever.
SB10BEN: Encrypted, even deleted, doesn’t matter.
SB10BEN: If you put something online, you have to understand that it’s basically floating in space.
SB10BEN: Anyone who’s smart or determined enough to find it will find it.
SB10BEN: And they can do whatever they want with it. Projected into the sky? Cool. For everyone on Earth to see? Done.
SB10BEN: If you don’t want it projected into the sky with your name and face attached, don’t put it online.
SB10BEN: Remember that, okay?
0BenwhY: you’re such a hippocrit, Benicio. THIS SECRET CABIN IS ONLINE
0BenwhY: I want your room
SB10BEN: Not yet, grasshopper.
SB10BEN: But maybe one day. If Sandbox is a hit and I’m a millionaire and it doesn’t matter if I lose my job.
0BenwhY: a MILLIONAIRE? Dream big, Benicio!
SB10BEN: Seriously. You never know.
SB10BEN: and remember you don’t hate mom. you’re just mad. Mad is different than hate.
0BenwhY: mad is different than hate? hmm.
SB10BEN: for real. think about that for a minute.
SB10BEN: now, can we move along from this delightful conversation?
SB10BEN: i was looking forward to testing new potions and building something with starstone
SB10BEN: not arguing with you for my entire dinner break
0BenwhY: Starstone?! After all this time, you figured it out?!
SB10BEN: Thanks to you . . . your idea about adding helium was spot-on.
0BenwhY:
SB10BEN: Seriously. You’re one of the smartest girls I know.
0BenwhY: Girls?
SB10BEN: Hate to break it to you, but even a super smart middle schooler like you is still a girl and not a grown-up.
0BenwhY: I know that! Just . . . can’t I be the smartest KID you know? Or person?
SB10BEN: Um, sure. Definitely one of the top five ladypeoples.
0BenwhY: PEOPLEpeoples
SB10BEN: Fine. You drive a hard bargain.
SB10BEN: You are one of the top three smartest people peoples I’ve ever known.
SB10BEN: Better?
0BenwhY: Better.
SB10BEN: Well, this has been really, really fun, but I have to get to yet another meeting.
0BenwhY: Can’t I just *see* the starstone? For a second?
SB10BEN: My dinner break is over. Sorry, grasshopper.
0BenwhY: okay, well, I’m sorry, too. For wasting all our starstone-building time being mad.
SB10BEN: that’s okay. we got to build YOU up, instead of a starship.
0BenwhY: shuuuuuutttttt uuuuuppppppp
SB10BEN: love you, little sister peopleperson
0BenwhY: love you too, big annoying brother
NOW
0BenwhY: I’m sitting at your desk
0BenwhY: at your computer
0BenwhY: reading through the old archive
0BenwhY: to see if there’s anything smart I can learn
0BenwhY: but nah
0BenwhY: we were so dumb
0BenwhY: . . .
0BenwhY: kidding
0BenwhY: YOU were never dumb
0BenwhY: and your advice from back then still helps
0BenwhY: sometimes
0BenwhY: when it’s not bad advice
0BenwhY: which it is
0BenwhY: sometimes.
0BenwhY: ha
0BenwhY: . . .
0BenwhY: . . .
0BenwhY: remember when you told me:
0BenwhY: nothing online is ever anyonyymous anonomous anoynoumous
0BenwhY: HOWEVER YOU SPELL IT
0BenwhY: and how everything online lives forever?
0BenwhY: ?
0BenwhY: well, what if I do something anonimus anonomos anonymuos IRL?
0BenwhY: on real paper. not online. will it live forever, too? will i get figured out?
0Benwh
Y: I can’t decide if i *want* to get figured out or not.
0BenwhY: that’s kind of weird, isn’t it?
0BenwhY: . . .
0BenwhY: you’re no help at all.
0BenwhY: about a lot of things these days
SCHOOL
Who chooses
who decides
who is cool
and who is weird
and who is dumb
and who is smart
and who fits here
and who fits there
and what is right
and what is wrong?
Who told you
your answer is right
and mine is wrong?
How are you the one
who decides
if something is cool
or something is trash?
What if,
for once,
you don’t tell me.
What if,
for once,
you
step
back?
What if,
for once,
you see what it’s like
for someone else
to define you,
as if their opinion of you
is fact?
Wonder if you’ll like that?
I kept asking myself
those questions
and more
as I stayed up
super late
and found all the paper
in the whole house
and printed copies
until the ink ran out.
Now I hitch my stuffed backpack
over my shoulder
in an extra-gentle way
so my pages
can wait
until I get to school
super early
(and sneak in the side door
with the lock
that doesn’t latch)
before they explode out,
shouting their unauthorized truths
all over the school.
It’s like I can feel the papers
shaking and buzzing,
ready to flutter on a breeze
made of everyone’s gasps,
and like little seeds,
they will plant themselves
everywhere
and grow
and grow
and grow
until everyone
is asking,
Who did this?
Where did this come from?
What is going on?
I am a ninja,
sliding through the air,
sneaking past molecules,
bending around light,
silent,
running as fast as I can,
willing myself
to be quick
and actually invisible
for once,
dodging hallway cameras,
and thanking Benicio’s ghost
for helping out this once,
because
WHEW
every teacher
is in one room
for some before-school
meeting,
and no one is around
to bust
my super sweet
ninja moves.
The pages flutter behind me,
my seeds caught in the wind
before the storm.
I fling them,
I Frisbee them,
I toss,
I sling,
I even stack—
on a table over there,
on a chair right here.
By the time I’m at the doors
that lead to the stairwell,
the empty halls
are filled with
whispery papers.
I am breathless
as I sit on my old desk,
pushed to the side
in room 113,
which isn’t a room at all,
and I pull my knees
tight to my chest,
and I wait
for the first bell,
for the first signs of life
from the seeds I just planted.
I wonder if this is how lightning feels
just after it strikes
but before the fire starts.
Shrieks fill the halls.
And laughter, too.
And hoots.
And hollers.
And oooohs.
And someone says,
Whoever did this
is HILARIOUS,
and another kid says,
I WISH I was that funny.
And someone else says,
Who could it be?
(without emphasizing the IT
at all.)
And I feel my chin lift up
all on its own,
and my smile
grow and grow and grow,
because even though
they don’t know
they’re talking about me . . .
I know they are.
Somehow,
right now,
them not knowing
and me knowing
what they don’t know
fills me up.
Like . . .
I’ve never felt this
complete
before.
All day,
in every class,
in every hallway,
every conversation
I overhear
is a version
of the same:
Who is the mystery writer?
What will happen now?
Why can’t we figure out who did it?
And I think about saying:
I’ve been here all along, you dummies.
You just never bothered to pay attention
to who I really am,
to who I can actually be
if you take off
your beige glasses
and really see me.
But instead,
I say nothing.
Maybe it’s weird,
but I don’t want them to know.
I don’t want to give away my secret.
Let them wonder,
Let them ask
Who
What
Why
and let them
feel what it’s like
to have no answers
for once.
It makes me smile,
(maybe bigger
than I thought
a smile could be)
to imagine
all these kids
who’ve called me
Ben Who What Why
(and so much worse)
for so long;
these kids who think
not blending in
is somehow wrong—
suddenly, they
want to know who I am?
They want to be
as funny as me?
I wonder what they’d say
if they knew
the hilarious
mystery kid . . .
the one
they suddenly wish
they could be . . .
was me?
Of course,
it only takes
about one minute
before Mr. Mann
huffs and puffs
down all the halls
yelling things like:
WHAT is that!
and
WHO is responsible for this?
and
WHY are you loitering?
Get to CLASS!
First period.
Second period.
Third.
Lunch.
And not one shriek,
not one laugh,
not one hoot,
not one holler,
not one ooooh
has started
or ended
with
Hey, Ben Who What Why,
And THAT has not happened
since . . . I can’t remember.
I’m invisible today,
like the wind
or a ghost.
No earbuds necessary
to try to hide
in plain sight
because
poof
I’m gone.
No one is looking
at me
or my clothes
or my bald head
or my anything.
Well,
they are looking at my words,
even though
they don’t know
those words are mine.
So yeah,
I’m invisible.
But also?
I’m everywhere.
I close my eyes,
reveling in my happiness,
like a lizard soaking up
the white-hot sun.
I fill myself up with it.
I bask in it.
I eat it for lunch.
Even in the library,
even after school,
even from my friends,
the communal freak-out
continues.
Ben B waves a wrinkled paper
at all of us
as he bursts into Newspaper Typing Club,
eyes wide.
Did you see this?
Did you read it?
I read the whole page,
and I don’t read the whole
of anything.
Well, you did read all of Save Ur Server, Save Urself: A Many Choices Sandbox Adventure Book, because we ALL read all of it this summer, remember?
Not the point, Jordan!
Ben Y? Did you see this?
Of course you did,
everyone did.
So who did it?
It had to be one of us.
And it wasn’t me,
so . . .
Not me! I stayed up way too late last night watching last night’s episode of Fierce Across America over and over and over so that I could learn how to do THIS!
Jordan flings himself to the floor
and flops back and forth
in a wormy kind of wiggle
until he knocks into a chair