by Danika Stone
“Back to what?”
“In the months before I decided to do online school, I got really active in a couple fandoms.”
“Fandoms?”
“Groups of online people who like the same thing.”
Her father’s expression glazed over. “I don’t—”
“Like Internet communities,” Madi explained. “People talking on the net, chatting and posting art and writing stories and stuff. And one of the websites I used to hang out on was Redux.”
“Madison, is this story bad? Are you mixed up in something illegal?”
“No,” Madi said tiredly. “It’s nothing like that. God, Dad, you have got to stop being so scared of the Internet. Redux was a great place at first. And I was really happy to have people to talk to, since I’d sort of lost those connections to people at school. And for the most part, the people online were cool. Most of them, at least.”
Her father tapped the armrests on his chair, scowling. “And those who weren’t cool?”
“It was one person, mainly. And he started to bully me—troll me, is what it’s called—until I finally left.”
Her father’s brow crumpled. “But, sweetie, why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
“I dunno. It seemed like dumb kid stuff. And you and Mom were busy with getting Sarah diagnosed.” She shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother you guys.”
“Oh, Madi.”
“So I left Redux and found some new communities—nicer ones. And then eventually I started working on the idea of creating my own blog. That’s what I did with MadLibs, and everything went well for almost two years. Really well, actually! But then I finished reviewing Starveil and all of a sudden, I had this anonymous poster heckling me.”
“But why?”
“Bullies are bullies. It doesn’t matter to them why.” Madi glared out the window as she spoke. The words were easy to say, but they bothered her more than she could explain. She’d spent her whole life trying to protect Sarah from the cruel taunts of classmates who didn’t understand her otherness. She’d considered herself immune to bullies, but it seemed one had found exactly the right way to push her. It exhausted her.
“At first it wasn’t so bad,” Madi continued. “I blocked the poster. I tried to find the IP address. I switched off anonymous commenting. But nothing seemed to lead back to him. Whoever was doing the trolling was smarter than most. He hid his address. He changed his usernames.” She looked up, catching her father watching her, slack-jawed. “I’m pretty sure the troll was the one who turned me in for breaking the school code and for plagiarizing. I think he sent the pictures of me and Laurent.”
“Bastard!”
“Yeah, that name kind of fits,” Madi said with a tired laugh. “When I went offline to finish my project, the troll disappeared again.”
“Because you weren’t posting?”
“Maybe,” she said. “But I had other people posting, friends who were helping out. Laurent even took a turn. And then the troll came back. He told me he’d start causing trouble.” Madi winced. “And then those pictures showed up. When I reported what happened to the police, they told me it could take months to catch him.”
“Months?!”
“The troll’s smart. He hid his tracks really, really well. And since there was no solid proof it was him, the police said the cyber-harassment charges probably wouldn’t stick. They’ve been looking into it, but I decided to get evidence on my own.”
Her father ran his hand over his mustache, frowning. “So how do you find someone like that? Can you go back to the police? Can we ask them to—”
“I already know who it is.”
Her father made a sound like he’d been punched, and all the air had rushed out of him. He leaned forward. “Who?” he growled. “Who’s doing this?!”
“It’s Robbie.”
“Who?”
“Robbie Sullivan, a guy I used to go to school with. He’s a senior at Millburn Academy. He runs Sarah’s study group, actually.”
Charles blinked. “But isn’t that the person you two were gaming with today?”
Madi nodded. “That’s when I found the program on his computer that prevents his IP address from being logged.” She smiled grimly. “I turned it off. If he trolls me again, I’ll be able to see him. Catch him. That’ll be all the evidence the police need.”
Her father sat back against his chair and pulled off his glasses. His face was pale. “So what now?”
“I need you to drive me to the police station. I’m ending this.”
“How?”
“I’m going to lure Robbie out so the police can catch him.”
* * *
Madi glanced over at Sarah sitting next to her on the couch. They’d opted for a rerun of some movie Madi could barely remember about a guy who died, but stayed on Earth, haunting his wife as he searched for his killer. Sarah had dozed off halfway through it, but Madi’s nerves had kept her awake. She’d written the MadLibs post in record time. Now it was time to post it.
“You think it’s okay?” Madi asked.
Her sister yawned and stretched, still half asleep.
“Sarah?”
“What?”
“Do you really think the post is okay?”
Sarah looked over as she reached for the game controller. “Yes. Have you posted yet?”
“I will in a second.” Madi chewed her lower lip as she scanned through the opening paragraph. “I just want to make sure it’s right. This has to work.”
Blog Post 219, Friday 3:41 p.m.:
The Ghosts of Movies Past
I wasn’t planning on doing a rewatch, but after one of the worst weeks in my life, I found I couldn’t sleep. I flicked through late-night television, hoping it would drown out the voices in my head, the ones telling me I wasn’t good enough, not smart enough, not cool enough for this blog. What I found was Ghost, an iconic movie. It’s a little past my ’80s theme—since it was released in 1990—but it captures so much of the same hope the other movies have, I decided to do a post about it anyhow.…
The cursor hovered over the POST button. Madi tried to catch Sarah’s eye, but she was already gaming. “You think Robbie will take the bait and troll the post?”
“Probably.”
Madi glanced down at the bottom of the laptop screen, rereading the ending.
Her fingers tightened into fists as she read the last few lines.
And that brings us to what—after long consideration—will be the final post of the ’80s Extravaganza. Starting tomorrow, I’ll open up a new post for possible MadLibs rereads. (I’ve already had one request for a comic series!) I look forward to seeing what you suggest. Check in for that tomorrow.
Thanks to everyone who has given me support over the last difficult weeks. So many of you have taught me the strength of online friendships. I can’t thank you enough.
*exit, pursued by a bear*
MadLib
* * *
Comments enabled.
Tags: #MadLibs #Ghost #Special shout out to all my readers and supporters—you rock! #80sMovies #Madi watches things and then blogs about them #Funemployment
“Here goes nothing,” Madi said. She pressed POST and the MadLib went live. “Let’s just hope it works.”
“It will,” Sarah said.
“But how do you know?”
On-screen, Sarah was in a complicated dance of punches and rolls as she fought her way through a group of soldiers. “Action and reaction,” she said. “It’s physics. Things have to balance out at some point.”
* * *
For the next two hours, Madi fought the urge to text Laurent and tell him that she found the troll and was working with the police to catch him red-handed. She wanted to beg forgiveness. (Again.) Madi wondered what Laurent would think of her latest post, but he didn’t appear to have seen it. No comments from @laurentabelard appeared. Meanwhile, all her other online friends—oblivious to the ongoing drama—played
their part, commenting enthusiastically on the blog and her surprise post of a 1990 classic.
Then the troll appeared.
This is the worst goddamned post I’ve ever SEEN! You had a bad week, huh, @MadLib? Then why don’t you crawl back into your hole and CRY about it! Fucking BABY!
Madi knew that the police wanted her to keep Robbie online as long as possible, but she was shocked by the level of his attack. With no face-to-face consequences, the lowest level of depravity flowed onto her post. Strangely, the more vitriolic his taunts, the less she felt the barbs. He was a kid—an angry little boy—not a monster. Knowing his identity changed everything. He no longer frightened her.
By dinnertime, the attack had slowed, the comments dwindling until they stopped altogether. One final message appeared in her MadLibs e-mail.
NEW Message, @YouveBeenPwned: 5:18 p.m. EST
Subject: Here, Piggy, Piggy, Piggy
You scared, little girl? GOOD. I like that. But don’t go hiding on me just when things are starting to get fun! IT’S TIME TO PLAY.
Madi’s anger was gone. The barrage had deadened her emotions. Icily controlled, she composed one final reply.
Reply to Message from @YouveBeenPwned: 5:29 p.m. EST
Subject: RE: Here, Piggy, Piggy, Piggy
No. I’m not scared of you.
Know why? I know the kind of person you are. Hiding in your room. Sulking about life. Wishing you were someone—anyone—else. Yeah, I know all about you. You’re weak. Sad. Scared. Even this message terrifies you. (Because you KNOW I’m right.) And you know what else? I feel bad for you. I really do.
I pity you.
You’re sick, and you need help. I hope you find it.
She sent it off without a second thought, then blocked the server. The deleted replies came in a frenzied rush.
*Automated response* to *all users*@hackster.com: 5:31 p.m. EST
Messages from this server have been rejected by the e-mail client. Please contact the system administrator.
*Automated response* to *all users*@hackster.com: 5:32 p.m. EST
Messages from this server have been rejected by the e-mail client. Please contact the system administrator.
*Automated response* to *all users*@hackster.com: 5:34 p.m. EST
Messages from this server have been rejected by the e-mail client. Please contact the system administrator.
Sick to her stomach, Madi closed the laptop and pushed it off her lap. She slumped down on the couch, breathing hard. I’m not scared anymore. She wasn’t even certain when that had happened, but she knew it was true.
The house phone rang.
“Madi?” her father called from the kitchen. “Can you grab that? Pretty sure it’s for you.”
For a split second, she wondered if it was Laurent, but it was the police. “We’ve got him,” a gravelly voiced officer announced. “Thanks to you, they had a warrant ready and were able to take Robbie’s computer. He’s only eighteen, so he’ll get the lesser, fourth-degree charges, but he will be charged.”
“Th-thank you.”
“Thank you, Ms. Nakama. You did a great job tracking him down. I can’t say what the verdict will be. It may still be a fine, but the harassment will stop.”
“Good.” She wanted to say more, but her throat closed.
“We’ll be in contact with you again to finish the paperwork. For now, you can relax. It’s over.”
For some reason the word over was the final crack in the armor she’d built around herself in the days since Laurent had disappeared from her life. Hearing it, Madi’s adrenaline-fueled energy finally waned. Her head fell back against the couch’s pillows, and she closed her eyes, tears rolling down the side of her face.
“Over,” she whispered. “It’s over.…”
* * *
Saturday felt like the aftermath of a tornado. The MadLibs post lay in ruins, the mess of the page a layer of commenting carnage Madi didn’t know how to clean up. After one or two attempts at appropriate replies to her fans, she gave up. With a sigh, she selected PRIVATE and updated last night’s post. The screen of the laptop flickered and reloaded, the destruction of the troll battle pushed aside for the police to deal with.
Madi pulled her laptop closer and cracked her knuckles.
“That’s gross,” Sarah grumbled.
“It helps me think.”
“Still gross.” Across from her, her sister lounged in their father’s chair, her feet bumping Madi’s every once in a while. “You want to go do something? It’s a nice day. We could go down to the park or walk to the pond.”
“Maybe later, okay?”
“Okay.”
Madi looked back at the open document. The goal of this new post was rebuilding. A fresh start.
Blog Post 220, Saturday 1:19 p.m.:
And Now Back to Your Regularly Scheduled Programming
As I’m sure many of you noticed, yesterday’s post was … *insert Inception horn blare* … an epically BAD day on the MadLibs blog. Things got out of hand and a lot of people got hurt in the process. I tried to wade through the comments this morning and respond to each of you personally, but in the end, it was too much. Sorry, guys. You’re getting one LOOOOOOONG reply addressed to all of you. There was more going on than you realized.…
Half an hour later, Madi was almost finished typing, Sarah waiting patiently. Madi stretched her back, putting a hand on her laptop so it didn’t tumble from her knees.
“You want to go now?” Sarah asked.
“In a bit, okay? I just want to finish this up.”
“What’re you writing?”
“A new post. I need to let the MadLibbers know what happened.”
Sarah groaned.
“I will go to the park with you. Promise. I just need to do this first.”
“Fine…” Her sister sighed as Madi scanned through the final paragraphs.
The first thing I want to do is explain why I let things play out as I did. Many of you AMAZING MadLibbers tried to come to my rescue yesterday, and I need you to know how much I appreciate that. THANK YOU. But I didn’t need rescuing. With the help of a number of you, I was able to locate the troll. I can’t talk about what’s going on with him (since it’s an active investigation), but I can promise you that he won’t be coming back to MadLibs to spew his hate. And that’s the really important detail I want to end on: what this blog means to me and how it needs to go forward from now on …
Madi gnawed at the edge of her nail, trying to figure out how to bring it all together. It was important that her readers knew what had happened. To know she cared about their emotions, too. Once MadLibs was back in working order, she could start the funemployment future she wanted.
Her sister bumped her toe, jarring Madi from her thoughts.
“Now?” Sarah asked.
“Just about…”
You can comment here on the blog. You are welcome to disagree with my posts. In fact, I WANT that kind of discussion, but I need it to stay positive. All right? I’m taking things a step at a time. I’m going to start vlogging, too (something that still kind of scares me)! And with all of that, we need to work together. I’m really PROUD of the positive, safe space that MadLibs was … and will be again. Let’s keep it that way. To quote Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure: “Be excellent to one another.”
And that ends my latest (and not-at-all-on-the-topic-of-pop-culture) MadLib. Thank you to everyone who stood by my side. Online and off, you are my friends. My REAL friends! And I’m grateful for each and every one of you!
*musical accompaniment rises*
*Madi spins the Inception top on her desk*
*exeunt*
MadLib
* * *
Comments enabled.
Tags: #MadLibs #RL #Madi blogs about things and sometimes gets off topic #Funemployment
“Almost ready, Sarah,” Madi said, the cursor clicking on the POST button. “I’m just posting this now.” She looked up and smiled
. “Thanks for waiting for me. Actually, thanks for everything you did the last while. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Her sister didn’t answer.
“You ready to go, Sarah?”
Her sister slumped lower in the easy chair, a magazine blocking the view of her face. “In a minute,” she muttered. “I’m finishing something.”
Madi’s phone buzzed and she looked down in surprise. In the last seconds, a new comment had been posted.
Comments on Blog Post 220: And Now Back to Your Regularly Scheduled Programming
Comment 1.1, @TheNewestMadLibberAround: Thanks for posting this, @MadLib. I think it’s important that commenters realize there’s a difference between intelligent debate and attacking a person for their opinions or beliefs. I know it’s sometimes difficult to know what people are thinking or feeling, but a textual format can help with that. What you write is what you mean. That goes both ways. When trolls post, they want to hurt people. That’s not acceptable in any situation. Anyhow, I’m very proud of how you handled the situation. Good work.
Madi glanced up, confused. Her sister’s hair was just visible above the pages of the magazine she held. That was the first clue. It was one of their father’s magazines about fly fishing, something Sarah and Madi rarely, if ever, picked up.
“Sarah?” Madi said.
Her sister’s face appeared over the top of the pages. “Uh-huh?”
“Are you…?”
“Am I what?”
Madi glanced at her phone’s screen and back again. Other comments had begun to arrive, but it was the first one that caught and held her attention: Sometimes it’s difficult to know what people are thinking or feeling, but a textual format can help with that. Hadn’t Madi said almost the same thing to her sister about texting?
“Did you comment on my post?”
For the briefest moment, a smile flitted over Sarah’s mouth before the magazine popped back up in front of her, blocking Madi’s view.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“And maybe not.”
Madi smiled. “Well, if you did, I’m glad. It’s about time you joined the MadLibbers.”