The Broken Code

by LJ Byrne

  When Mom died, there was a moment I wanted to die too. I wanted to be left alone. I wanted the world to disappear. With sudden clarity, I now know I don’t want to die – not like this. I should be allowed to finish my school year. I want to go to see what I can do in the real world.

  I hop, shout, and pound at the door, trying to stay warm with little success. Eventually, I tire. My movements slow. I don’t feel as cold anymore, just tired. Sleepy. I remember drinking hot cocoa while watching movies with Mom.

  The sun will be up soon. I imagine the sun’s warmth and it feels real. I’ll tell Ryder how good the sun feels when I wake up.

  I’m dreaming. I smell cinnamon, sunshine, strawberries. I walk through a field of daisies, startling butterflies that fly into the bright sunlight. Too bright. I shield my eyes. Someone’s calling my name.

  The field is too pretty to leave. But someone calls my name again. Insistently. Pulling. Going towards the person hurts. My skin is on fire. I don’t want that.

  “Stay with me, Mira! Mira, look at me! Mira!”

  I turn away.

  010010

  My mind flits in and out of awareness. Voices come and go.

  “Start the IV. Get the machine hooked up now!”

  Darkness. Quiet. Cold. Sharp pain. Sleep.

  I move. There’s a mask on my face. The air I breathe is warm against my nose and lips. My fingers twitch. It takes more energy to move my hand.

  “Shh. Be still. I’ll get the nurse.”

  The voice is soft and sweet. It sounds like Mom. I start crying. I want to tell her to stay and not go away. Hot tears leak from my eyes.

  Gentle, warm hands grab me.

  “Mira? Mira? Can you open your eyes for me?”

  The mask is removed, and the gasp of air into my lungs is sharp and painful. It takes so much energy to open my eyes, but finally, I manage it.

  The world is a bleary, bright mess that moves discordantly. “What?”

  A man with owlish eyes peers at me. A doctor. “Can you tell me your name?”

  Didn’t someone just say it? “Mira. Bell.” It sounds like I said wonderful.

  “That’s right. You’re in a hospital. You’re being treated for moderate hypothermia. Your guardians are here and you’re safe.” He speaks slowly, enunciating every syllable. The doctor looks over his shoulder.

  At first, I almost scream Mom. But then I see the lines of the face – the brighter features, the smoother skin. Aunt Erika.

  “Mira, God, we’ve been so worried and scared,” my aunt cries, trying to hug me.

  Uncle Robert blinks back tears, trying to stay out of the way of the nurse. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up, kiddo.”

  “Careful,” the nurse cautions. “Her body is still recovering.” She smiles gently at me as the doctor leaves

  I realize I’m attached to an IV and enveloped in a balloon-like contraption circulating warm air. I’m puffy. I blink. The nurse fiddles with a few monitors. “I’ll give you some time to talk to your family.”

  Ethan comes into view, his face drawn and tight. My brows knit in confusion as his eyes tell me more than words would.

  “Do you remember what happened?” he asks.

  “How did you find me?” I return with a question of my own in a weak voice. Aunt Erika strokes my head.

  “We couldn’t find you at first.” Ethan’s jaw clenches. “Celeste found your phone in the lobby with the screen badly cracked. Ryder got worried when you didn’t text him back.”

  “That’s when Ingrid grabbed me,” I say.

  Aunt Erika starts, her eyes darting to Ethan. “Ingrid?”

  “We thought she was involved,” Ethan says, “but she was at a small party with her crew. There’s a video.”

  Cold runs up my spine. “That’s not possible. Ethan, I saw her.”

  Aunt Erika very kindly tells me, “The school reviewed videos around the time you must have left Ryder’s room. It shows you walking alone, throwing your phone, and then taking the elevator up. It was lucky that Ethan searched for you.”

  My throat hurts as Uncle Robert continues, “Honey, depression is common in teens. We got your suicide note…”

  “I didn’t write a suicide note.” Okay, I’ve woken in an alternate reality. I know I saw Ingrid. The videos make no sense. What the hell is going on?

  Ethan unlocks his phone, showing me a picture of a wet, printed note: I MISS MOM SO MUCH. I CAN’T TAKE THE ROYALS AND THEIR CODE. ONCE ETHAN IS GONE, MY LIFE WILL BE OVER. PLEASE TELL ETHAN I’M SORRY. LOVE, MIRA.

  So, first, that is the worst note ever. I would never write a note like that. It doesn’t even sound like me. Second, anyone could have written it! It’s typed, for God’s sake.

  “I talked to the school,” Aunt Erika says. “They’re being wonderful. You have straights As across the board. They’ve agreed to let you rest at home, take your finals from home. You’ll be excused from homework until then. The condition is you have to agree to counseling.”

  Finals. Which is in one week. Counseling. This is insane.

  “I was dumped on the roof.” I look at my arms, pushing down the puffy contraption, and pull my hospital gown a bit to show my upper arms which are bruised. “Look! This is where I was grabbed!”

  Aunt Erika doesn’t believe me. It’s obvious with the way she’s nodding. Uncle Robert says, “I’ll get the nurse.”

  I start crying. “I swear. I didn’t try to kill myself! You have to believe me!”

  “Darcy, Brittany, and Celeste were here, but I sent them home. Mom and Dad just wanted family around you.” Ethan hesitates. “Ryder refused to leave. He’s outside, but we told him to stay away. Has he said anything to you? Done anything to you?”

  I’m still weeping. “No. No. We were hanging out.”

  “I’m going to let him come in for a bit until the nurse gets back,” Aunt Erika decides, giving Ethan a warning look. She heads out with Uncle Robert. About a minute later, Ryder enters, pale, livid, shaken.

  “Mira.” He reaches for my hand. “Shit, I should have walked you back. Why didn’t you let me walk you back?” He kisses the back of it.

  “You know why,” Ethan practically growls.

  “I didn’t try to kill myself,” I try to say calmly, but I’m still crying. “Ingrid grabbed me with her friends.”

  Ryder’s eyes darken. “Who was there?”

  “I d-don’t know,” I stammer, realizing how bad that sounds, “because they covered my head with a pillowcase or something. I only saw Ingrid.”

  Ryder is silent. “Ingrid was with friends. There’s video – school video and they posted a picture on social media. The videos show you walking alone.”

  “That isn’t possible!” I want to see these videos. “I need to see the videos.”

  “The doctor said that you withdrawing, not attending parties or being social… It makes sense.” Ethan lowers his eyes.

  What the hell?! I turn to Ryder, and there is doubt in his eyes. My heart squeezes. Why would I lie?

  “Get out,” I say in a flat voice. Ryder starts. “Ryder, get out. You don’t believe me. Neither of you believe me. That means you think I’m lying.”

  They continue to stare at me in disbelief. “Mira, let me—” Ryder tries to grab my hand again and I swat him away.

  “Get out!” I start screaming hoarsely at the top of my lungs, ripping off the heated circulator. “Why won’t you believe me, you asshole?! Get out! You did this with Ingrid, didn’t you?”

  Nurses come in to grab me as I shout and scream at Ryder and Ethan. My eyes burn with rage and betrayal as I start ripping the IV out of my arm, reveling in the sharp pain telling me I’m real. Then I feel a prick in my arm. Things get fuzzy. A strange calm overwhelms me. And then there is nothing but a dreamless sleep.

  010011

  I agree to counseling. It’s a farce, to be honest, but it means not being forced into long-term treatment. I get my things delivered from school and hole up in my room.
I’m watched and checked all the time, going to a half-day outpatient program at a nearby clinic before I’m smothered by attention by Aunt Erika.

  I haven’t seen Darcy, Celeste, or Brittany, although they send me warm messages. My aunt and uncle are wary of letting me see my friends since I blew up at Ethan and Ryder. Ryder doesn’t contact me, and it stings. It stings that he doesn’t believe me. I remain silent, too.

  At home, I hack into the school system and find the video files in question. In the first clip, you don’t see my face, just the back of my head in my school uniform. I throw the phone down on the ground. In the second clip, I’m still alone. This time, you can see my face as I walk to the elevator and get in. That’s all there is. I’m alone in both clips.

  I chew my lower lip, watching the second video again. And then I pause, rewind, and watch again. In the first clip, my phone lands close to the elevator. In the second clip, I don’t see anything on the floor. Okay, you don’t see my face in the first video. It could be someone with long hair – maybe even a wig – dressed in a school uniform. I mean, people look the same from behind.

  I watch the first video again. I’ve never seen myself walk so I can’t tell if the person walks like me. But when the hand throws the phone to the ground, I freeze the frame. The wrist is visible. There’s no bracelet.

  These videos have been manipulated. It wouldn’t be hard to hack the video feed and upload an old file of me going to the elevator. The timestamp can be altered by bypassing the feed with the faked video. The first video may not even be me. It could be someone in a wig. I start compiling my evidence. It doesn’t take a talented person to create and doctor photos and videos, but school security systems are relatively robust for casual hackers.

  I start working on a little remote access tool and rootkit that I want to put on Ingrid’s devices. Even cellphones are more like computers these days. Anything open to a network can be made vulnerable. Talking about cellphones, Aunt Erika got me a brand new one right away since my old one was unsalvageable. I make sure my old phone was properly destroyed just in case.

  When the weekend rolls around, I’m released from my half-day outpatient therapy with a doctor’s signature verifying that I’m on my way to recovery. It wasn’t all bad. I got to talk about my mom. I got to talk about being a wallflower. I let Ingrid hit me. I let Ryder dump me and then I took him back. I’m sick of being a victim.

  Celeste is the first person to get permission to visit me. My loving but incredibly stupid cousin has forbidden any contact with me until today. The moment it’s lifted, Celeste texts me and visits me with Brittany and Darcy in tow.

  As soon as I see them, Celeste bursts into tears, and I blurt, “I didn’t try to kill myself.”

  What surprises me is that all three of them nod. “We believe you,” Celeste says, and then I start crying, too.

  It is a relief to be believed. Next thing you know, we’re all blubbering messes. After we get our cry fest out of the way, Celeste speaks up. “We were suspicious right away. Ingrid and Cage said the same thing – Ingrid hosted a gathering and invited certain Court members over. It was too specific.”

  “Not just them, but Judy, Erin, and Victoria,” Darcy adds, blotting at her eyes. “It was the same thing. Oh, we were all at a party with Ingrid. See, here’s a picture of us on social media.” Darcy mimics Victoria’s pretentious voice. “I told Ethan my suspicions, but he thought the videos made it obvious.”

  “There are time stamps on the videos and stuff, but can’t those be faked?” Brittany asks.

  I’m grim when I reply, “Yes. Many things can be altered.” I decide to reveal a few things. “The video with me breaking my phone? I don’t think that’s me.” I point to our friendship bracelet. “I’m not wearing this. It’s someone wearing a wig with the time stamp altered.”

  “Shit.” Darcy’s whisper echoes all our sentiments. “Well, we have the proof, right? Let’s get this cleared up.”

  “Not so simple,” Celeste says thoughtfully. “Ingrid has the alibi of half the Royals and some Court members. Plus, they could simply say the bracelet didn’t show because it was hidden by the sleeve of our jackets. They could argue the angle is all wrong.” She demonstrates this by lifting her arms and sliding her bracelet so that the sleeve bars it from view.

  At this point, I don’t give them what else I’ve gleaned. I don’t want them to get entangled in this until I’m done collecting evidence. It will reveal too much about me – and create questions I’m not ready to answer.

  “I’ve been so angry with Ethan,” I admit, “that I haven’t spoken to him since I was released. He’s staying out of my way.”

  Darcy sighs, reaching to hug me. “Ethan is being illogical because he’s struggling with guilt. He thinks it’s because of him that you felt this pressure to fit in. In both situations, he thinks he’s failed you in some way. He also doesn’t think women are that vindictive.”

  Brittany snorts. “Yeah, we are. We hold grudges. Or I do.”

  I manage to laugh as Celeste adds, “I think Connor doubts Ingrid too. He doesn’t know what happened, but he doesn’t think you tried to freeze yourself on the roof of our dorm. The Royal girls believe in the code about sticking together, even if it means lying.”

  No one asks about Ryder. For that I’m glad. I’m still upset with him. Okay, we didn’t profess undying love, but I thought… I thought he would believe me.

  “We’ll keep digging, and I’ll talk to Ethan,” Darcy promises, but I’m not sure what she can do with regards to Ingrid. Ethan and Darcy are a week away from graduating. Next year, it will just be me, Brittany, and Celeste. It’s a sobering thought.

  “At least Monday is mostly for those who need extra time to finish projects,” Brittany says.

  That’s true. It’s mostly set aside for cleaning out lockers, dorm rooms, and returning borrowed materials. Since I did my finals remotely, Aunt Erika has already had my room cleared out. There is an evening party Tuesday night for the departing seniors, and then the seniors have their graduation ceremony the following weekend.

  After the girls leave, I send my little rootkit out to Ingrid’s email address and hope for a bite. My phone buzzes and I see Ryder’s name. It’s with trepidation that I accept his call.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d answer,” Ryder says, his voice smooth but solemn. “Mira, I need to talk to you, but I can’t get away right now. My father is in town.” There’s a hesitancy in his words. “I’m hosting a party Monday night. It’s tradition for the outgoing king to recognize the new king.” His laugh is harsh. “Would you come early so we can talk?”

  “Do you believe me? About Ingrid?” I wait, holding my breath.

  “I do. Mira, I believe you.”

  I want to cry. Or maybe hug him. “That… means a lot.”

  “Mira, I’m sorry for not being there. But I’ll tell you everything, I swear.” He sounds rushed and anxious. “If you’ll have me, next year it won’t be Ingrid. You’ll be my queen. I’m tired of the games. I want to tell you everything, even if it means I lose everything.” He takes a deep breath. “The party starts at eight. Are you able to have someone drop you off around seven?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” I suck in my breath. I want him to prove this isn’t a game. My heart wants it to be real, but my mind has doubts.

  “Great.” He’s quiet. “You’re the only thing that matters, Mira.” I hear some background noise and Ryder grows hushed. “I need to go. I’ll see you soon.”

  He disconnects and I stare at my shiny new phone for a long time.

  010100

  Monday, Ingrid bites. I spoofed the principal’s email address so that Ingrid gets a message asking her to return her books. Normally, I would cringe at doing this, but Ingrid could have killed me.

  While rummaging through her laptop, I come across something curious: Ingrid has a Discord account. It’s curious because Discord is popular among gamers – and folks like me. Ingrid just isn’t the Discord typ
e.

  Once I’m in Discord as Ingrid, though, I feel like my world falls apart. There is only one server Ingrid is subscribed to: Old Royal Bluebloods. When I click on the server, I check to see who’s subscribed to the server. It’s almost all the old money Royals and some of the Court members: Erin, Elaine, Judy, Victoria, Ingrid, Cage, Arthur, Ryder, Xander, Nate, Daniel, a few others. Ethan, Connor, and Celeste are missing. I do a quick scan of the available categories. There are the usual voice channels, but the category I click on first is labeled THE BETS.

  There I find channels identified only by names. There are a few names I don’t recognize, but I recognize these: Celeste D, Darcy S, Brittany K, Mira B. I click Celeste D first and cover my mouth in horror.

  Arthur writes about Celeste’s body in lewd detail. There are bets placed on getting kisses or getting pictures. I’m dismayed when Daniel wins money for getting nude pictures of Celeste. The post is recent. Cage suggests Daniel ask for sexual favors if she wants the pictures deleted. Daniel thinks it’s a great idea, but he doesn’t know how to get past Connor.

  I next go to Darcy S. Most of the posts here are older: Darcy would have been a sophomore and it’s clear that Erin was aware Ethan was attracted to her. Erin rants about Darcy, calling her several names. She tries to get Cage to seduce Darcy. He fails. Erin is horrifically vicious, asking Cage to give Darcy a date-rape drug so pictures can be taken. Xander objects and Erin claims it’s a joke. Recent posts are mainly from Erin complaining about Ethan overstepping his role and disregarding the honor of the Royals. I nearly choke at the hypocrisy.

  I click on Brittany K. There are pictures of her. Erin goads the boys into making bets on who can get pictures of her in certain positions. I stop reading after Cage posts lurid thoughts on her.

  When I click on my name, I start at the beginning. A month before my arrival at RBA, Erin announces my existence. She doesn’t know my name yet. Ingrid says I’m the perfect tool to hurt the King of RBA. Erin demands that I’m ruined so she can rub it in Ethan’s face. Arthur, Cage, Ryder, and Xander agree that they’ll help. There’s back and forth between everyone about what would be the best thing. Nate disagrees with everyone.