by Ray Daniel
“Security.”
“I get it. Pwn the security guys.”
“Yeah. So a few hackers got together and made this little club called PwnSec. Someone with the nickname Eliza wrote a manifesto about how they were going to take it to the Man.”
“And did they?”
“No. They suck. They mostly do life ruins.”
My phone rang. A Boston number.
“Mr. Tucker?”
“Yeah.”
“This is Ms. Marks from the Elcott School.”
“Okay.”
“We need you to come down here. There’s been an incident.”
Eight
I climbed the concrete steps to the door of the Elcott School. Adriana stood on the landing at the top, waiting for me.
“You should have gone inside,” I said. “It’s cold.”
“Not alone,” she said.
“Where’s Catherine?”
“One of us has to work.”
“That’s okay. We’re in this together, right?”
“If you say so.”
We entered the school at a staircase. The old-school smell of varnish and paint met us as we climbed stairs worn down by a century of little feet. The hallway to the office sported bright graffiti-like paint and paper decorations. Maria sat on a bench outside the office with a woman sitting next to her. The woman had light brown skin, pearls, and a gray jacket. She stood, stuck out her hand.
“I’m Assistant Principal Marks,” she said.
We all shook. Made introductions. Maria watched.
“Please step into my office.”
We stepped into her office and sat in front of her desk, Maria between Adriana and me. She hadn’t said a word.
“You mentioned an incident,” I said. “Maria seems okay.”
“Are you okay, Maria?” asked Ms. Marks.
“Yes,” said Maria.
Ms. Marks kept looking at Maria as she spoke to us. “Apparently, Maria has been using her social media account to spread pornography.”
“That’s ridiculous!” said Adriana.
“We’ve had several complaints,” said Ms. Marks.
“Yes, we know about this,” I said. “She was life ruined.”
“What?”
“Someone broke into her Facebook account and did this to her.”
“Did this to her?”
“Yes. It’s cyberbullying.”
“According to the other parents, Maria was the one engaged in cyberbullying.”
“We called them and apologized.”
“This is on top of Maria’s other bullying.”
“Other bullying? What other bullying?” I said.
Adriana looked at her hands.
“Maria, what—”
Ms. Marks broke in. “Maria has been sent home with several Think About It Forms.”
“Think About It Forms?”
“Yes. Three TAIFs. The last two were sent home. And Maria called Ms. Rizzo in front of a staff member. I have all the paperwork here.”
I had never seen anything called a Think About It Form, but then again, I wasn’t really her father. Adriana continued to stare into her lap, as if she were the one being disciplined. Maria maintained eye contact with Ms. Marks.
“Mr. Tucker, as one of Maria’s guardians, you should have seen this form.” She handed me a sheet of paper.
“I’m not one of Maria’s guardians,” I said, taking it before she changed her mind.
Maria’s neat penciled handwriting answered questions.
What did you do? Please be specific. Start with I.
I called Gustav fat.
What was wrong with what you did? Who did you hurt? How did you know you hurt them?
I made Gustav cry.
What problem were you trying to solve? Did you want attention? Did you want to be left alone?
I wanted to be left alone.
I looked up at Ms. Marks. “She wanted to be left alone?”
“Yes, she wrote that. But it seemed to me that she copied the answer.”
“Maria, why did you call Gustav fat?”
Maria shrugged. Adriana sat back in her chair, crossed her arms.
“Can we talk without Maria here?” I asked.
“Maria, please go wait on the bench.”
Maria got up, eyes down. She opened the office door, stepped out, and closed it behind her.
“You know she’s been through a lot,” I said.
“We’ve all been through a lot,” said Adriana. “Now this.”
“I recognize the situation, Mr. Tucker.”
“Please just call me Tucker. I hate being called mister.”
“I would rather keep this formal,” said Ms. Marks.
“Fine.”
“Maria is too young for Facebook.”
“We’ve had this conversation in our house,” said Adriana, glaring at me.
“Even Facebook says she’s too young. Their policy is thirteen years and older.”
“She’s precocious,” I said.
“That does not make her thirteen, Mr. Tucker.”
Even with my father’s honorific, she made it sound like I was the one sent to the principal’s office.
“Okay, well, she’s off it now, so let’s move on.”
“Light dawns on Marblehead,” muttered Adriana.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“We need to talk about consequences,” said Ms. Marks. “This is a serious offense.”
“Consequences?” I said. “She didn’t do anything. She’s the victim here.”
“The real victims here, Mr. Tucker, are the children who were exposed to age-inappropriate content. And their parents, some of whom had to explain the pictures.”
“It was just a porch swing.”
Ms. Marks held up her hand, traffic-cop style. “Let’s not get into details.”
“It was not Maria’s fault. Gustav’s brother did it.”
Ms. Marks and Adriana stared at me.
“What?” Adriana said.
“Do you have proof?” asked Ms. Marks.
“No. Not proof as such.”
“Then why would you say that?”
“He’s a twenty-year-old man who lives with his mother and spends his day on the computer.”
“And so this makes him a hacker.”
“He had motive.”
“If you had been reading the TAIFs we sent home, and if you knew about all the times we didn’t fill one out, you’d know that half of Maria’s class has motive.”
“Why?”
“I hate to label, but she is a bully.”
“Chip off the old block,” said Adriana.
“Me?” I said.
“Not you. I mean my brother, Sal.”
That sunk in. Sal was out of the picture, but he’d taught his child well.
“Mr. Tucker, Ms. Rizzo, Maria needs to see there are consequences for her behavior.”
“She … was … tricked,” I said, slowly so it would sink in. “It’s not fair to punish her.”
“We don’t punish.”
“No, you consequence.”
Ms. Marks gave me a cold stare.
“She’s a kid,” I said.
“Yes. You should have thought of that before you allowed her on Facebook.”
“The other kids were on Facebook too.”
“Mr. Tucker, stop. This was Maria’s account. She gave away her password and her classmates were hurt. She is suspended.”
“For how long?” asked Adriana.
“The rest of the week.”
“This is crazy,” I said. “And unjust.”
“And for Maria’s own good,” said Ms. Marks.
“This needs to blow over. Next week is school vacation. In ten days, everyone’s emotions will have settled down and she can start over.”
“Start over what?”
“Start over by being nice to her classmates.”
“But what if—”
“Also, she should go back to counseling.”
“Counseling?” I asked. “What counseling?”
“Her grief counseling.”
I turned to Adriana. “Maria was in counseling?”
“Yes,” said Adriana. “Six sessions.”
“Only six?” asked Ms. Marks. “Why only six?”
“That’s all our insurance covered,” said Adriana.
“Insurance,” I said. “You should have come to me if you needed money.”
“We don’t want your charity.”
“It’s not charity! It’s—”
Ms. Marks stood, stuck out her hand. “Good day.”
“But—”
Adriana stood as well. Shook. “Thank you, Ms. Marks.”
“But—”
“Shake her hand, Tucker. We’re going home.”
I shook Ms. Marks’s hand. Did not say thank you.
We gathered up Maria.
“What happened?” asked Maria.
“You’re suspended,” said Adriana.
Maria’s face crumpled for the second time in two days. The tears started. She cried the whole walk back.
Peter was going to pay for this.
Nine
The state of an Italian family can be divined by looking at the dinner table. A heaping pile of gravy-smothered spaghetti, supported by sides of meatballs and sausages, Caesar salad, Parmesan cheese, and a dessert of green Italian cookies tells you that all is right with the world.
We were eating Fenway Franks and canned baked beans.
Adriana sat at one end of the table, Catherine at the other, Maria and I across from each other on the long sides. Maria absentmindedly poked at a pile of beans, eating them one at a time using a spoon. I nibbled a hot dog, put it down, had some beans. Decided they tasted like tiny kidneys, stopped eating. Adriana had cleaned her plate and was reaching for another hot dog.
“You’re stress eating,” said Catherine.
“Yah think?” said Adriana.
“Getting fat isn’t going to help.”
“Are you saying I’m fat?”
“These are really good hot dogs,” I said.
“Shut up, Tucker.”
“I’m just saying, maybe I’ll have seconds too,” I said, forcing a bite.
“Don’t take her side,” said Catherine.
Maria burst into tears, jumped off her chair, and ran to her room.
We chewed in silence.
“Maybe I should open another bottle of wine,” I said.
“Yeah, because getting drunk will make this so much better,” said Catherine.
“Can’t hurt.”
I went to the pantry, pulled a bottle of chianti out of the cabinet, worked the opener. Walked back to the table, placed the bottle on the table, and sat. Adjusted the chair, raised the bottle. Glanced at Adriana.
“Sure, why not,” she said, pushing her glass at me.
I filled her up. Catherine waved me off. I filled my glass and drank half.
“So what do we do now?” I asked.
Adriana said, “What do you mean?”
“We can’t just let this stand.”
“The suspension?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re going to do exactly that,” said Catherine.
“Let it stand?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s unjust!”
“How is it unjust? Maria gave away her password, got life ruined, and exposed a bunch of kids to porn. On top of it, she’s been a bully.”
“That’s horseshit.”
“No. It’s not,” said Adriana. “The principal—”
“Assistant principal.”
“Assistant principal was right. Maria has filled out a ton of Think About It Forms. She has been to the office over and over.”
“What did you do about it?”
Adriana looked at me, something hateful brewing behind her eyes. “What did I do about it?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you do about it?”
“I didn’t know about it.”
“How convenient.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You sit out there in your man pad while Catherine and I raise Maria, and then you judge the job I’m doing?”
“I’m not judging. I’m just asking.”
“Fuck you.”
We drank our wine. Stared at the pile of hot dogs. Adriana reached for one, brought her hand back, and slugged some wine instead.
“On the bright side,” said Catherine, “at least now Tucker will get to spend some time with Maria.”
“What?” Adriana and I said.
“This week.”
“What about this week?” I asked.
“Maria is suspended, so she’s not going to school.”
“Right,” I said. “I know what suspended means.”
“I have a job. Adriana has a job. You don’t have a job.”
“Hey, that’s right,” said Adriana. “That takes a load off my mind.”
“What does?”
“You can stay here for the rest of the week and watch Maria.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“I’m busy.”
“Busy doing what? Bingeing Battlestar Galactica?”
“I need to prove that Peter did the life ruin.”
“No, you don’t,” said Adriana.
“Just drop it,” said Catherine.
“I’m not going to just drop it. That kid owes Maria an apology. He owes you two an apology also.”
“Let’s just get through the next few days,” said Catherine. “Just accept the suspension, get through it, and let everything cool down.”
“I am not letting Peter get away with this. Justice has to count for something.”
“Maybe it did,” said Catherine.
“What justice?”
“Karma, then. Maria has been a little bully, and the universe responded.”
“‘The universe’ didn’t respond, Catherine. Peter Olinsky responded.”
“Says you.”
“That’s why I need to prove it.”
“All right, enough of this,” said Adriana, standing. “Tucker, are you going to help us or not?”
I drank my wine.
Adriana said, “You were all pissy because the judge appointed Catherine and me guardians and left you out.”
“Because I was single.”
“And apparently, because he saw right through you.”
“Saw through me?”
“Saw that you’re still a child.”
“Fuck you.” I sat back in my chair, crossed my arms, and stared at the pile of beans.
Adriana started cleaning plates, banging them into the dishwasher. Catherine pursed her lips, stood, and started to help Adriana.
The boiling rage that had churned in me since I saw the porn on Maria’s Facebook page continued to course through me, setting off an upset stomach and an aching head. The year of First-Withouts had been a trial for all of us.
I blew anger through puffed cheeks. It caught Adriana’s attention, who glanced at me but said nothing. Nothing more needed to be said. We had all said enough. What’s worse, she was right. I had bitched about not being named a guardian, and the judge had been right to give Maria to a married couple—an employed married couple.
I closed my eyes, blew out a few more puffs of adrenaline. �
�Okay,” I said.
“Okay?” asked Adriana.
“You’re right. I’ll take care of Maria this wee—”
Maria came bolting around the kitchen door and jumped into my lap. “Yay! This will be so much fun!”
Adriana rolled her eyes. “Some consequence.”
I said to Maria, “You’re going to have to keep up with your schoolwork.”
“Yes, I will!” She threw her arms around my neck, hugged me hard.
I patted her back and thought again, Peter, you are going to pay.
Ten
The notion of being “on time” is a myth propagated by the perpetually late. In reality, it’s impossible to hit the absolute perfect moment to be on time. One is either early or late.
I prefer early, so at 7:55 the next morning I knocked on Adriana’s door, travel mug in hand and backpack on my back. Adriana opened the door wearing an unbuttoned blouse and a skirt turned a quarter around from the front.
“I thought I said eight,” she said.
“This is almost eight.”
“Just come in.”
I came in and set up shop in the kitchen while frantic last-
minute commuter activity happened around me, with Catherine and Adriana making lunches, putting the finishing touches on their looks, and getting ready to run out the door.
“Where’s Maria?” I asked.
“She’s sleeping late. Make yourself at home,” said Adriana. “And no television for her. She’s being punished.”
“What?”
“Gotta go!”
She and Catherine bolted out the front door, leaving me in a quiet house. I made a cup of coffee, found one of Catherine’s scones in a tin, and sat down to do some online sleuthing. Much as he didn’t want to help me dox Peter, Huey had given me a clue to start looking. I began searching for the hacking group PwnSec.
We think of hackers as loners, guys (or mostly guys) who sit in front of their computers all day engaging in mischief or learning how to engage in more mischief. If you don’t count the times that the hacker collective Anonymous has inspired real-world protests, the generalization is often true. Hackers don’t see much of each other, but they chat a lot.
When hackers meet on the Internet and love each other very much, they go to a chat room and create a hacker club with a clever name. PwnSec was such a club, combining the word for beating someone in a contest (pwning them) with an abbreviation for security. Apparently PwnSec thought they would pwn a lot of sec.