by Jason Segel
I don’t even know where Elvis was that evening. Probably hiding in a bathroom stall. Whoever was responsible for the hack was looking at a minimum of three years in jail, the FBI informed me. I’m sure that’s what would have happened if I’d ratted out Elvis, who’d already turned eighteen at that point. His parents were astrophysicists or something equally useless. My parents, as I’ve mentioned, are lawyers.
In the end, it was a win-win-win situation, as far as I was concerned. I got kicked out of school and sent back to Brockenhurst. Everyone thought I’d gone nuts. And since I’d saved Elvis’s life, he was now my humble servant. Of course I got probation. My parents were forced to return to the States and pay a massive fine, which they swore they’d recoup from my future earnings.
When the sentence came down, the judge must have seen that I was pleased with my punishment.
“You really thought it would be funny to scare the socks off a bunch of little kids? What are you—some kind of nihilist?” he demanded.
“No, sir,” I told him. “But I certainly appreciate all the good work those folks do.”
That earned me two months of mandatory counseling. But if I had a chance to do it all over, I’m pretty damn sure I’d say the same thing again.
—
So here we are.
I didn’t plan any of it. Fate brought me back to New Jersey for good. There’s no other place my parents can send me. No private school will accept me—not anymore. The United Arab Emirates denied me a visa. I didn’t just burn all my bridges. I blew them to hell with nuclear missiles. My father, who was forced to give up his cushy position in Dubai, refers to me as “the boy with no future.” Which is true, just not for the reason he thinks. Anyway, I couldn’t care less about the future. I came back for Kat. I did what I had to do. To be honest, I would have done anything.
The irony is, this particular princess doesn’t want to be rescued. I’ve been in Brockenhurst for four months now, and she’s barely said a word to me. I hoped Otherworld would fix that. But tomorrow morning when I see her at school, I don’t expect anything to have changed.
My mother pulls her car up to the front of the school and I slide out. It’s just before eight o’clock on a Monday morning, and I see Kat’s already in her regular spot. She’s sitting on the hood of a car on the other side of the parking lot, next to a girl named Winnie with raccoon eyes. Standing in a circle around them are four guys—a psycho, an anorexic drug addict, a known STD carrier and a stranger dressed in black. Or War, Famine, Pestilence and Death, as I like to think of them. The first bell will ring in five minutes, and the Four Horsemen are vaping. From what I can tell, Kat and her friends try their best to stay stoned. I’m in no position to judge, believe me. You gotta do what you gotta do. But I can’t understand why Kat wants to do it with these douchebags.
The one dressed like the Grim Reaper keeps fondling her curls. I once saw her slap a guy who put his fingers in her hair, but for some reason she’s letting this one get away with it. His name is Marlow Holm, and he’s new to Brockenhurst. He showed up at school in January, around the same time I came back. I don’t know much about the kid or why Kat’s humoring him, but I certainly intend to find out.
“Slut.” The word comes out of nowhere. Right out of the blue. I spin around. The two girls walking past must not have seen me. Olivia and Emily. I’ve known them both since grade school.
“I heard she doesn’t sleep at home anymore. She rotates between their rooms,” Olivia says, and Emily cackles.
I love a dirty joke as much as the next guy, but that one hits a little too close to home. I ended up walking through the woods and checking on Kat’s house last night. It was Sunday, so she should have been home, but her bedroom light never went on. I thought I’d die waiting to see it, and that certainly wasn’t because of the cold.
“Excuse me! Ladies!” I jog to catch up with them. The look on their faces when they see me is priceless. The mixture of fear and disgust makes me feel powerful. If I reached out and touched them, they’d crumble to dust. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”
Their mouths are open, but no words are coming out. It’s one thing for girls like them to insult my butt cheeks from the safety of a moving car. It’s another thing to confront me in person. I’m bigger up close. And much, much crazier.
These particular ladies are repeat offenders, and Kat seems to be their favorite subject of gossip. I’ve warned them before. It’s time to bring out the big guns.
Olivia crosses her arms and cocks her head. It’s the battle stance of the teenage girl. I hope she doesn’t think I’m intimidated. “What do you want?” she asks.
“I don’t want to talk about me,” I tell her. “I’d like to talk about women’s rights.”
“Women’s rights?” Emily sneers, flicking a lock of glossy brown hair over her shoulder.
“Screw off, Simon,” Olivia says. She thinks it’s all a joke, and she sounds relieved.
“Okay, sure, but before I go, I just want you both to know that I fully support your right as women to do whatever you want with your bodies—and I will fight to ensure that your rights are protected and preserved.”
“Gee, thanks, crazy.” They laugh and start to walk away. I follow.
“It just makes me sad that you two don’t support other women. I heard what you called Kat. Not very politically correct of you.”
Olivia spins back around. “It’s the truth, Simon. Get used to it. While you were away, your dream girl turned into a whore.”
It’s a kick to the balls, but I don’t double over. I clench my teeth and smile through the pain.
“What Kat does with her body is none of your business.” Then I drop the earnest act. “Just like what you do with yours shouldn’t be any of mine.”
“What’s your point?” Olivia asks. “Make it fast if you’ve got one. We’re going to be late for homeroom.”
“Won’t take a second. Are you familiar with the phrase live by the sword, die by the sword?” I ask as I take out my ten-year-old flip phone and toggle through my photos. “ ’Cause if not, I have a picture of it.” I turn the screen around and show her.
Emily slaps a hand over her mouth but a giggle still escapes.
The blood drains out of Olivia’s face. “You hacked my phone,” she says.
“Not yours. Your boyfriend’s. His Gmail password was blowjob. I’d hardly call that hacking,” I say modestly.
“You’re not supposed to go near a computer without supervision,” says Olivia. “You’re not even allowed to have an iPhone.”
“I didn’t touch one,” I assure her. It’s true. I don’t need to do my own dirty work when I have a Ukrainian hacker who owes me big-time.
“You’ll go to jail if you send those pictures to anyone.”
“Yes. And it will be totally worth it,” I promise. “And don’t worry about Emily. She won’t get left out. When I post all these photos, I’ll throw in a few of her, too.”
“What?” Emily looks sick.
I roll my eyes and sigh theatrically. “Don’t either of you pay attention during school assemblies? A couple of weeks ago, Principal Evans warned you about this very thing. She said you shouldn’t take any pictures that you don’t want the whole world to see.” I silently thank Principal Evans. Her Internet safety assembly gave me a million ideas. “So what do you say, ladies? Are we all going to respect women’s rights in the future?”
They nod silently, but I can see them smoldering with hatred and fear.
“Then let’s just remove the word slut from our vocabularies, shall we?” I pause long enough to let the smile slip off my face. “And if I were you, I’d try my very best to forget that Katherine Foley exists.”
I leave the girls standing there. Inside the school, the first warning bell rings. A wave of students surges toward the front door, and I let myself be swept along. In the halls, kids dart away when they see me. The lesson I just gave Olivia and Emily wasn’t the first on
e I’ve taught since I came back. There’s a force field forming around Kat. It won’t make her more popular, but when I’m done, crowds will part as she passes. If you’re going to be a pariah, you might as well be their queen.
—
It’s been four hours and I still can’t get the conversation with Olivia out of my head. I’m no prude, but the idea of Kat rotating between the Four Horsemen’s rooms drives me completely insane. When it’s time for lunch, I skip the cafeteria and go hunt for her. I have to navigate the entire campus before I find her standing with Marlow behind the cafeteria dumpsters. A cloud that’s the palest shade of blue hovers over the garbage. From a distance Kat seems totally stoned. Marlow’s got an arm around her, his hand dangling a little too close to her breast. He giggles when he sees me coming. Kat just stares. Her eyes are remarkably clear.
“May I have a word with you?” I ask Marlow. The hood of his black sweatshirt is up and his black jeans sag around the knees. He’s the image you’d see if you Googled high school stoner. But there’s something about his face that doesn’t match. It’s like someone Photoshopped a J.Crew model’s face into the picture.
His bloodshot blue eyes dart in Kat’s direction.
“Not now, Simon,” she says. “Leave us alone.”
“No, seriously, Kat. I just want one word with him.” I hold up my index finger for reference.
“Fine. What is it?” Marlow asks, growing bold.
When he steps forward, I throw my arm around his neck and whisper in his ear. “Run.”
He looks at me and I smile. I’ve been working on my smile, and I think I’ve finally perfected it. Dead eyes and lots of teeth. Marlow shoots away faster than a speeding bullet. He’s a real superhero, that one.
Kat watches him go. She’s annoyed, but she’s not surprised. I can tell she’s not into him, and I gotta say, that comes as a massive relief. But then why is she hanging out with the guy in the first place?
I take Marlow’s position beside her and lean my back against the wall. I expect her to bolt, just like she has every time I’ve come near her in the past four months. But she stays. For almost a minute, neither of us says anything. I’m the one who’ll have to break the silence. I don’t think her sex life is a good place to start.
“So what did you think of Otherworld?” I ask her. “Was that the coolest shit you’ve ever seen or what?”
“Yeah. Thanks for sending the gear and login. Wayne found it and confiscated everything,” Kat said.
“My father destroyed my gear with a nine iron.”
She winces. “Sorry, Simon. Your dad always was a dick. You shouldn’t have come back to Brockenhurst right now. Look, I really gotta go.”
“Kat.” I grab her hand as she starts to leave. I expect her to pull away but she doesn’t. “What’s going on with you? Why won’t you talk to me?” I’ve asked the same question a hundred times—usually to her back as she’s rushing away from me. Finally it seems like I might get an answer.
She looks around as if scanning for spies. I don’t see anyone, but she doesn’t seem satisfied. “I can’t.”
I can’t doesn’t mean I don’t want to. It’s a small step, but at least we’re moving in the right direction for once. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you? I knew something was up when you drove into the pond. Is it your stepfather?”
We lock eyes, and I know the truth. I’m right.
“What if it is?” she asks quietly. And that’s when I realize she’s not stoned at all.
“Then I’ll kill him.” We both know I would. I’d do it right now if I could.
“And what would happen to you if you did?”
I shrug. “Doesn’t matter.”
That really pisses her off, and she yanks her hand away from mine. “See, this is why I didn’t want you involved. This isn’t a goddamn game, Simon. What would happen to you?”
“Prison, I guess.” Then it dawns on me. “Wait. Are you not talking to me because you’re trying to protect me? ’Cause if that’s what you’re—”
She holds up a hand. She isn’t going to listen anymore. “Give it a rest, Simon. Go back to boarding school.”
“Haven’t you heard? I can’t.”
Kat crosses her arms. “Sure you can. Just tell them the truth. Tell them you didn’t do it.”
I don’t say a word.
“You’ve never hacked anything in your entire life, Simon. You really expect me to believe you were the mastermind behind some crazy plot to take down Toys ‘R’ Us?”
“It wasn’t Toys ‘R’ Us.”
“Jesus, what difference does it make? We both know you didn’t do it.”
For a moment I’m a little bit crestfallen. Is it so hard to believe I’m a genius? “Yeah, well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.”
“It doesn’t matter if you did it or just took the blame for it. Either way it was a dumbass move,” Kat says. “I can’t be seen hanging out with a cybercriminal right now. It’s too dangerous for both of us.”
If she’s looking for an excuse to blow me off, she could at least try to find one that makes some sense. “You can’t hang around with me because I got arrested for hacking? What about all those assholes you’ve been spending time with? You’re trying to tell me that Brian and West haven’t committed a few felonies between them?”
“Those guys aren’t my friends, Simon,” she whispers angrily. “They’re camouflage.”
“Camouflage?” Something about the word scares the crap out of me. “Kat, what in the hell is going on? I’m not leaving you alone until I know.”
She looks around again and grabs my arm. Then she pulls me behind the dumpster. I feel her hands on my face and her lips on mine. For the next sixty seconds, it’s like we’ve passed through to some parallel universe. Then she pulls away and we’re right back where we started—in a world that’s completely screwed up for reasons I don’t understand.
“Why did you do that?” I ask. She kissed me once a long time ago. I’d given up hope that it would ever happen again.
“Because I was tired of waiting for you.”
I can’t speak. My mind is too busy counting all the missed opportunities.
“Go back to boarding school, Simon,” she says softly. “Please. When this is over, I swear I’ll come find you.”
“When what’s over?” I call out as she heads for the school. “Kat! We used to be a team!”
She doesn’t answer and she doesn’t look back.
But my hunch is confirmed. Kat’s knee-deep in some kind of shit. She doesn’t want me to get involved. And she kissed me. I know one of these facts is far more important than the others, but right now I’m having a real hard time keeping my priorities straight.
—
The shades are drawn in my film-editing class, and a dozen screens light the room. As I pass through, moving toward my station, something catches my eye, and I’m overwhelmed by a sense of déjà vu. There’s Kat on someone’s screen. It’s like every paranoid thought I’ve had in the hour since she kissed me has just been vindicated.
I stop and reverse course. “What’s that?” I tap the girl’s computer monitor.
My voice is gruff, but she doesn’t flinch. She gazes up at me with eyes so dark that they don’t seem to have pupils. I noticed her on my first day back at school. She must have moved to Brockenhurst while I was away. She’s tall and pretty, with closely cropped hair and skin that glows like polished mahogany. I noticed early on that she didn’t say much in class. Then I noticed she was absent a lot. Eventually I stopped noticing her at all. I haven’t really thought about her since.
“My film,” the girl says. “It’s a documentary.”
“Why are you filming my friend? You should mind your own business. Who are you, anyway?” I demand.
“My name’s Busara Ogubu,” she says, and turns back to her work. “You must be the crazy guy.”
Most people would be offended. I can’t help but laugh. “You can call me Simon,
” I tell her. Then I tap her screen. “So did my friend Kat sign any release forms? Does she know she’s starring in your documentary?”
“You’re part of it too,” she says, fast-forwarding. She stops at a familiar scene—me in the parking lot this morning with Olivia and Emily. I had no idea she was there, and I can’t for the life of me figure out where she might have been hiding.
“It’s illegal to video people like that,” I warn her. Somehow I’m not quite as pissed as I know I should be. “I’d be more careful if I were you. Every kid in this school has at least one lawyer in the family.”
“Last time I checked, it was illegal to blackmail teenage girls, too,” says Busara. “Even the bitchy ones.”
“Touché,” I concede. I like her. She’s feisty.
She swivels around in her chair to face me. “Why are you protecting Katherine Foley?” she asks.
I realize then that Busara must not have any idea about Kat and me. About how things were before I left for boarding school. Still, I can’t figure out what to tell her. I just stand there and look back at her. Then my mouth opens and I hear myself speak. “Because she’s the best person I know, and I’m pretty sure she’s in trouble,” I say, and instantly regret it. I have no idea why I’ve chosen to be honest with a girl I’ve just met.
“You might be right,” Busara says.
“What?” I croak, as if there were hands around my throat. I didn’t expect her to confirm my suspicions.
Busara puts a fingertip on the computer screen. “You know that kid?” she asks.
It’s Marlow. “I know he’s an asshole, but that’s about it,” I say. “He’s new.”
“He moved here from California over the holidays,” Busara says. “Lives with his mother in a fancy glass house outside town. She works in tech.”