by Danika Stone
*Automated response* to @Malwarning6: 7:17 p.m. EST
Private messaging for all e-mail clients on the MadLibs blog is currently closed. Please check back again later.
*Automated response* to @FUCKYOUMADLIB: 7:18 p.m. EST
Private messaging for all e-mail clients on the MadLibs blog is currently closed. Please check back again later.
After a moment, the barrage stopped.
“And stay away,” Madi said in a shaky voice.
She clicked on the ongoing search tab. The IP addresses she’d searched came from all points of the globe. Madi closed her eyes, breathing hard.
“He’s hiding.”
This situation had gone from bad to worse.
* * *
With the MadLibs blog closed down to keep the troll in the dungeon, and no one to talk to, Madi tweeted her exasperation. The anger and anxiety she’d been holding at bay for days spiked. She’d dealt with trolls before! She should be able to handle this.
@MadLib: So angry I’m literally shaking! #WhatDoWeSayToInternetTrolls #NotToday
In seconds, fandom friends were replying.
@ModernDayWitch: @MadLib Oh my goodness, hon! Are you okay?
@MadLib: @ModernDayWitch Not okay. I’m absolutely FURIOUS! The troll is BACK AGAIN!
@ModernDayWitch: @MadLib Oh no! I’m so sorry you’re dealing with this! D: He sounds absolutely AWFUL. I’ll do a cleansing spell for you, Madi. You need it. :(
@MadLib: @ModernDayWitch I need more than a cleansing. I need some kind of CURSE for this guy. GAH! Why are people so AWFUL?!?
@laurentabelard: @MadLib What an idiot! I can’t believe it. You got the IP address, though, right? You can track him and block him.
@MadLib: @laurentabelard I did, but it’s not that easy. He’s using Tor, or something like it. #UseYourPowerForGoodNotEvil
@laurentabelard: @MadLib Sorry, I don’t understand. What does Tor do?
@MadLib: @laurentabelard It bounces his signal from place to place. When I tracked it, the IP for @Malwarning showed up in both Nigeria AND in Toronto. He’s not in either of those places. Guaranteed. THIS is why I hate trolls!
@ArtWithAttitude: @MadLib @laurentabelard Shit! That’s not good.
@MadLib: @ArtWithAttitude @laurentabelard Exactly. :(I’ve probably made things FAR worse bc I answered his PMs. D: He’s smart—way smart—I shouldn’t have taunted him.
@ModernDayWitch: @MadLib Let us know how we can help you. :(You aren’t alone in this. #MadLibbersUnite
@MadLib: @ModernDayWitch Problem is, I don’t think there’s anything you CAN do to help. #FML For now everything is closed—ask box, comments, EVERYTHING. Sorry, guys. I need to contain the fallout from this mess. #GetAHazmatSuit
@laurentabelard: @MadLib How awful. :(
@MadLib: @laurentabelard I know.
Madi tossed her phone on her bed and flopped back on the coverlet. She rolled over, burying her face in the pillow, and let out a primal scream of fury.
Seconds later the door to her bedroom opened and Madi looked up to find her father waiting in the doorway.
“Sheesh, Madi. Everything okay up here?”
“Everything’s just peachy,” she said in a bitter voice.
For a moment it seemed like he was going to disagree, but he shook his head instead. “Well, good. But try and keep it down.”
* * *
Friday afternoon, Madi waited outside Mr. Wattley’s door, heavy-lidded eyes staring down at the tiled floor. She’d had three sleepless nights after the explosive argument with the troll. It felt like the events that had chased Madi out of her last fandom—two years earlier—were starting again. Even Laurent’s two-in-the-morning texting pep talks hadn’t been able to dispel her gloom. I need to get out of here, her mind shouted. But where? There was no “out” that didn’t require completely renegotiating her responsibilities with Sarah. Besides, she had final exams in two weeks.
They were the last hurdle to finishing high school. Classes ended mid-June, and then, as everyone loved reminding her, real life would begin. She’d be starting at CUNY in the fall, taking the train into New York each morning and back home each evening. Everything in her life had been tied up so neatly. Madi felt trapped.
She didn’t even know if she wanted to go to college, but it had happened all the same.
You couldn’t force someone to grow up, could you? Madi’s lips twitched as she imagined the nuclear-devastation-level blowup that would occur should she try to explain that concept to her parents. Nope. Their understanding of funemployment was as narrow-minded as their fixation on academics. It left Madi coasting, refusing to decide. And so those decisions were made without her.
Her thumb flicked over the phone’s screen, pulling up the series of late-night texts. She smiled to herself as the conversation with Laurent returned:
i know i should ignore it. EVERYONE tells u that about trolls, but how can u put that kind of nonsense aside? And why should u? i’m doing the blog for me—not them—and trolls can get back under the bridge where they belong!
Can’t you report him or something?
if it were a regular site, yes. (and in theory someone would do something about it) but i’m the site administrator in this case. it’s ME who needs to deal
that’s awful. shouldn’t you go to the police or something?
he hasn’t really done anything, but I’m worried he might
???? OMG—now i’m worried.
don’t be. i’m not, like, afraid for my life or anything. (i’d go to the police if i were.) i’m just worried he’ll out me in some way
out you?
post my name publicly.
i’m sorry if this sounds naive, but would that be bad? madlibs is a good site. there’s no NSFW content. and it’s not like you’re doing anything you should be ashamed of
not me, no. but my family would FREAK
why?
it might mess up my dad’s career
i don’t understand.
“down home” is pretty conservative. dad’s followers are, too. bc of this, dad’s always been VERY nervous of things i post. he wouldn’t even let me get a FB account until i was in high school. i’m only allowed to run madlibs because i DON’T use my actual name
can i help with the troll?
i appreciate the offer, but no. just leave him be. he’s awful, and he seems to be good at tech stuff, too. that’s a BAD combination. (the IP addresses are always hidden or fake.) just let it go. confronting him will make it worse
are you sure?
100% sure. i don’t need u to ride in on a white horse & save me
but i’m totally up for it, you know. i mean, i’ve rented a horse and everything.
LOL—that WOULD be a sight. u on a horse? Hee!
just you wait and see.
oh, i will
Madi’s smile disappeared as the telltale sound of heels approached. She slipped her phone into her pocket, eyeing the hallway. The shiplike figure of Mrs. Preet was halfway to her, her bosom heaving as she strode forward, waving.
“Oh, for the love of—”
“You there,” Mrs. Preet called in a singsong voice. “Could I see your hall pass, please?”
Madi stifled a groan. Where is Doc Brown’s DeLorean when you need it?
She gave a halfhearted smile. “It’s just me,” Madi said. “Sarah’s sister, remember? I don’t go here.”
Mrs. Preet’s shortsighted eyes widened behind her thick glasses. Instead of turning away, she jogged to Madi’s side.
“Miss Nakama,” she panted. “What good luck! I was hoping to run into you today.”
“You were?”
“You didn’t return my phone call. I asked you to contact the office at the school for some very important information.”
“I, um, I didn’t really have a chance. Things have been a little crazy the last few days.”
“Oh dear. Well, that makes this more difficult.”
; The hair on Madi’s arms rose. “I—I don’t understand.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to discuss this in my office?” Mrs. Preet asked. “It’s just down the hall.”
“No, the bell’s going to ring in a minute. Sarah’s coming.” Madi swallowed hard. “What’s going on, Mrs. Preet?”
“I had a concerning phone call the other day. One that my message requested you explain.”
The door behind them opened and Mr. Wattley appeared.
“Explain what?”
“What you’re planning to do for your final English Language Arts project? I mean, since your blog is no longer acceptable for submission.”
The floor below Madi’s feet disappeared. She was falling—fast—with no sense of when she’d stop. The MadLibs blog was her final major assignment for the class. Barring that, she only had finals. She was so close to graduation she could see the finish line, but if this fell through …
Mom and Dad are going to kill me.
“I—I don’t know what you mean,” Madi stammered. “I already talked to my online teacher. Ms. Rodriguez said I could—”
“Use it as long as it adhered to the school’s code of conduct,” Mrs. Preet said with a tight smile. “Yes, yes. I assume you read the agreement. OMA is very stringent about meeting state standards.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Mrs. Preet spoke slowly, her words enunciated as if reading from a book. “The code specifically prohibits any work that has been submitted elsewhere for monetary gain.”
“But I haven’t been paid for any of my writing,” Madi said. “I’ve never—”
“But you do make money from your website, yes? You have ads? Pop-ups that provide you with…” She tapped her lip. “What was the word you used on your blog? ‘Funemployment,’ isn’t it?”
She waited for an answer, but Madi’s words were gone.
Sarah came out of the classroom, pushing past Mrs. Preet and heading down the hallway without waiting.
“You’d better start a rewrite,” Mrs. Preet said seriously. “The end of the year is only three weeks away and you have a semester-long assignment to redo.”
“But I have final exams! I can’t just drop everything and redo my whole blog. Can’t you make an exception?”
Mrs. Preet crossed her arms. “I can’t and I won’t. Doing that would make it unfair for every other student in this school.”
“But—”
“I don’t have a choice on this, Miss Nakama. Rules are rules.” Her expression was unwavering. “You will follow them the same as everyone else.”
“There’s no way I’ll get it done in time!”
“I’m sorry, but if that’s the case, perhaps you should consider returning to Millburn Academy for an extra semester, next fall.”
11
“How do you explain school to higher intelligence?”
(E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, 1982)
u still have that white horse u told me about?
at the ready.
bc I could REALLY use someone to save me right about now
oh no! what happened?
EVERYTHING! FML! this month is cursed!
details?
i’m in so much serious TROUBLE
okay. breathe. is this drugs? alcohol? the law? do you need bail money? (that’ll take a bit.) HOW CAN I HELP???
none of those. (jeez, laurent. what kind of person do you think I am?)
then what? because those are the big ones, IMO. everything else is manageable.
not this
???
i may not graduate.
but I thought you were an A student.
i am.
and…?
and the school got an anonymous tip I had been making money off my madlibs site. my english project is totally screwed
i don’t understand.
THE TROLL MESSED UP MY REAL LIFE
oh no! merde! that’s terrible!
it is. i’m so angry i could scream
do it.
what?
go outside. scream it out! terrify the neighbors!
LOL—i can’t, laurent. my dad will freak
so what? you need to let it out. go!
don’t make me laugh. all right? not yet. i’m just too mad right now
then how can i help? please. tell me.
aw … laurent. ur a beautiful cinnamon roll, too good for this world
i’m a WHAT?
nothing. LOL ur perfect and thank u for being here for me. i appreciate that more than i can say
i’m never more than a text away.
i know & i’m glad. i just wish u were across the street
me, too, minette. me, too. here. i saw a post you might enjoy. it’s a little less back to the future and a bit more fast-forward to the future.
A link appeared and Madi clicked on it. She began to laugh.
ha-ha! i think being stuck in the ’50s might be a better choice than panem
not up for the hunger games?
i’m not much of an athlete
but you could use your computer skills to hack the arena. the rest of us would be at your whim!
would u be a competitor?
not a competitor. an ally.
the future is looking better and better
* * *
Laurent and Madi spent the next ten minutes texting. He wanted to know about Millburn. How small was it? And how close to the lake were the houses? Was the Nakama house actually in the forest, or was it on a street? Smiling, Madi sent him a pin on Google Maps as she described the town where she’d spent her entire life. And then, without explanation, he disappeared. She waited a few minutes for a reply that never came, then slid her phone into her pocket.
It was time to deal with the mess she’d created.
Half an hour later, Madi was still typing. She’d completed all the minor assignments for the week and was now ready to tackle the big issue: her contested major assignment. She was writing an e-mail to her English teacher when Sarah knocked at her bedroom door.
“Just a minute,” Madi said, stretching her back. “I’m busy right now.”
She scanned it one last time. The wording needed to be exactly right.
UNSENT Message, [email protected]: 6:33 p.m. EST
Priority: HIGH
Subject: Possible Alternate Projects for English
Dear Ms. Rodriguez,
Mrs. Preet contacted me at school today to let me know my MadLibs blog was no longer an acceptable final project for your course. I apologize for misunderstanding the school’s code of conduct, and for not contacting you as soon as Mrs. Preet left a message on my home phone.
Mrs. Preet suggested the two of us talk about options for an alternate project. Given the time frame and the upcoming finals, I’d appreciate if you could be flexible. Please let me know what assignment would be acceptable.
Sincerely,
Madison Nakama
Madi chewed her lip, considering what she’d written. She needed to walk the line between supplicant and assertive. She would not be returning for another semester of high school, and flunking out in her last semester was not an option. (If she didn’t die of embarrassment, her parents would kill her for letting them down.) She winced. The only choice was to suck it up and fix it. That meant a new project. She closed her eyes, sending a quick prayer to the academic gods, hoping they were listening.
“Please let her go easy on—”
Another bout of knocking interrupted her celestial plea, and Madi squeaked in surprise.
“Madi!” Sarah shouted. “Can I come in now?”
With a sigh, Madi hit SEND. “Just doing homework, Sarah. What’s up?”
Her sister opened the door a crack. “There’s someone downstairs for you.”
Madi spun in her rolling chair, staring at her sister in confusion. “Who?”
“A boy; I don’t know his name. He’s downstairs talking with Dad.”
&n
bsp; “Who in the world…?”
Madi stood from the chair, walking toward the door and peering over Sarah’s shoulder. She could hear her father talking to someone, but the voices were too low to discern. She touched her sister’s arm.
“What does he look like?” she whispered.
Sarah pursed her lips. “He has a straight nose, kind of highlighted dark hair, clear skin—really clear—like almost perfect. He has a backpack, and he’s got a camera, too. The kind with the lenses and everything. It’s around his neck. A Canon, I think. Maybe DSLR.”
“Yes, but what does he look like?”
“Do you know Jack Shriveton?”
“No.”
“Well, he’s this boy in my chemistry class who sits two rows ahead of me. Tanned. Athletic. He was state champion for high jump. This guy kind of looks like him.”
“So he’s in high school, then?”
“Not sure,” Sarah said with a shrug. “Seems more like a college guy to me. His clothes are different.”
“Different, meaning what?”
“Like they’re not from the mall. They look … nice. Fancier, I guess. Oh, and he has a tattoo of some fish on one arm. I thought Dad would freak when he saw it, but he didn’t say a thing.”
Madi was out the door and running down the stairs before her sister had finished, panting by the time she reached the foyer. She skidded to a stop. Her father and Laurent stood chatting like old friends.
“Madi,” her father said, giving her a beaming smile. “Your friend Laurent, here, popped by to say hi.”
Laurent waved. “Salut.”
“H-hey, Laurent. I didn’t expect you.” She peeked out the window, half expecting a white horse on the lawn. There was only the next-door neighbor creating a grid with his mower.
“I figured you were probably studying, so I walked from the station rather than texting,” Laurent said, answering the unspoken question. “I thought you might want to grab a coffee.” He grinned. “Pretty sure I owe you one.”
“Yeah, you do,” Madi said with a nervous laugh.
Laurent turned to her father. “If that’s okay with you, sir.”
“Of course it is.”
“It is?” Madi stared at her father.
He was in superfriendly mode, and she was relieved she hadn’t admitted the massive storm about to descend on her academic life. He would never let her out of the house if he knew how she’d screwed up her English project.