The Sonic Breach

by Victor Appleton

  “Uh, guys?” Amy squeaked.

  “What? You don’t think a grown-up can be wrong?” Sam asked Noah.

  “Maybe Mr. Davenport was just pretending to be okay with it,” I suggested. “Maybe he’s letting Channel Four News smoke out the creator.”

  “Guys?” Amy repeated, a little louder.

  Sam’s eyes lit. “That sounds about right. I bet it’s all just an act.”

  Noah waved her off. “You gotta be kidding me.”

  “Guys!” Amy shouted.

  The three of us stopped talking and turned to her. Amy looked down and fidgeted with her fencing mask.

  “I did it,” Amy whispered.

  “You did what?” asked Sam.

  Amy looked up and cringed. “I . . . I created Pop Chop.”

  7

  The Invention Dissension

  “NO WAY!” A GRIN STRETCHED across Noah’s face. “Way to go, Amy!” He reached out a fist and she tentatively bumped it with her own.

  I was both surprised and impressed at the same time. Of all the people to create the controversial app, Amy would be the last person I would’ve guessed. Not only does she hate being the center of attention, but she is also a big stickler for the rules. Something like this would be way too much of a gray zone for her.

  “And cool logo, by the way,” said Noah.

  Amy exhaled and grinned. “Thanks! Honestly, that took almost as much time as it did to program the app. I got the idea from your robot, by the way. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Mind?” Noah put a hand to his chest. “I’m honored.”

  “Oh yeah,” I agreed.

  “I can’t believe you!” Sam blurted.

  The three of us were frozen by Sam’s outburst. Amy lowered her head and fidgeted with her mask again.

  Sam shook her head. “Why in the world would you build an app like that?”

  Amy glanced up. “I . . . needed it.” She gave a half smile.

  “You?!” all three of us said simultaneously.

  This was too much. Amy Hsu? Our Amy? Needing an app like that?

  “You have a photographic memory,” I said. “Quizzes have to be supereasy for you.”

  Amy shook her head. “You’d be surprised.”

  “What? You have to cram last-minute like everyone else?” asked Noah.

  “No,” Amy replied. “But I . . . I choke under pressure.” She let out a long breath. “If I know there’s going to be a test, that’s one thing. But when it’s a surprise, I just go blank.” She turned her mask over in her hands. “My grades were slipping, and if they slip too low, I won’t be allowed on the fencing team, no matter how much I practice.”

  “Whoa,” said Noah. “I had no idea.”

  “I just needed something to take the pressure off,” she explained. “Just a little warning, you know?”

  I shook my head. “But why didn’t you tell us about it?”

  Amy shrugged. “I was going to right away. Honest. But after you started debating whether it was right or wrong . . . I chickened out.”

  Sam crossed her arms. “That’s because, deep down, you know it’s wrong.”

  “How is it wrong?” asked Noah. “You just heard the principal. Even he didn’t think it was wrong.”

  “That’s his opinion,” said Sam.

  “So, it’s just your opinion that it’s wrong,” Amy countered. Her face began to flush. “No one is forcing you to use it.”

  “That’s good, because I’m not,” Sam said, her eyes narrowing in that dangerous way.

  Things were heating up fast. Amy and Sam had been best friends since they came to this school. It was uncomfortable seeing them at odds like this.

  I stepped between them. “I think the bigger issue right now is that news crew.”

  “What do you mean?” Amy asked.

  “You heard what they said. They’ll probably keep digging until they find out who’s behind the app,” I explained.

  Sam pointed at Amy. “And when they find out it’s you, they’re going straight to Davenport. Then you’ll find out if he really thinks your app is harmless or not.”

  “But it is,” Amy pleaded. “It doesn’t even give out the test questions or answers or anything.”

  “I agree,” I said. “But maybe it would be best to go to him before they do.”

  “Or remove the app altogether,” Sam suggested.

  “Don’t do it, Amy,” Noah warned. “That thing means way too much to so many people now.”

  Noah was right. Like it or not, this app was now bigger than one student trying to take the pop out of pop quizzes. This app was a morale boost for the entire school—well, maybe not the teachers.

  “I . . . I don’t know what to do,” said Amy.

  “That’s called having a conscience, Amy,” Sam snapped. “Maybe you haven’t memorized that page of the dictionary yet.”

  Amy gasped and stared at Sam with her mouth agape. Tears formed in her eyes before she turned and ran away.

  8

  The Persuasion Equation

  AMY AND SAM DIDN’T TALK to each other the rest of the day. Sam barely even spoke to Noah and me. Amy was still fencing in every free moment, so we didn’t see much of her. The times I did see Amy and Sam together, they didn’t even look in each other’s direction.

  “Everything all right, buddy?” my dad asked at dinner. “Pop quizzes getting you down again?”

  “No,” I replied. “I mean, yeah. They’re still a pain and all, but I got it covered.”

  “Well something’s eating you,” he said.

  I guess having my friends fighting affected me more than I thought. Or, more likely, my dad could read me like a book—as always.

  “Sam and Amy aren’t talking to each other,” I replied, mindlessly stirring my mashed potatoes.

  I didn’t want to go into detail about the argument because that would mean that I’d have to tell my dad about the app and who created it. I knew he would understand, and we’ve always been open and honest with each other. But I was already the last to find out about the app’s existence because people were afraid I might report everything to my dad. I didn’t want to be “that guy.” The last thing I wanted was to prove anyone right, that I wasn’t just a regular student. But still, I didn’t like keeping things from my dad. It was an irritating balancing act that I was all too used to.

  Luckily, he didn’t press for details.

  “That does happen sometimes,” he said between bites. “We’re all different and can’t agree on everything.” He dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin and nodded. “You know, it’s been my experience that true friends can work past their issues. They realize their differences complement each other.”

  That was my dad, always with the words of wisdom. And he was right. The four of us in our close-knit group were very different from one another. And we often complemented one another’s strengths and weaknesses. That was also why we made such great teammates or lab partners.

  I shook my head. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “For what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “For telling me it will all work out,” I replied. “Without actually saying ‘It’ll all work out.’ ”

  He took another bite and smiled. “Oh, is that what I did?”

  After dinner, I disappeared into my room to do homework. Since my mom died, my dad has always gone above and beyond to be there for me. Luckily, it wasn’t in a smothering/helicopter parent sort of way. Both of us respected each other’s need for quiet alone time.

  Getting through my homework was more difficult than usual; I was still distracted by Sam and Amy’s argument. It was like a puzzle or a math problem that my brain just wouldn’t let go. Amy had clearly explained why she had created the app, but I didn’t get why Sam was so opposed to it. She’s always had a live-and-let-live attitude. Like Amy had said, no one was forcing Sam to use it. Why did it bother her that others did?

  After I finished my homework, I decided to ask Sam m
yself. I pulled up my video chat program and sent her a chat request. She didn’t answer. I tried again. Nothing. Either she was away from her computer or she was purposely ignoring my calls. I took a gamble on the second option. I grabbed my phone and shot her a quick text.

  Come on, I typed.

  I sent another video chat request. This time she accepted.

  Sam’s face appeared in a small box on my computer screen. “What is it?” she asked.

  “Hi—uh,” I stammered. “I just wanted to . . . see how you’re doing.”

  Sam sighed. “I’m fine. I’ll see you at school, Tom.” She reached for her computer keyboard to end the chat.

  “Whoa, hold up,” I said.

  Sam froze. “What?!”

  “What are you mad at me for?” I asked.

  Sam’s shoulders slumped. “I’m not.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No,” Sam replied. She massaged her temple. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Why are you letting this app get to you so much?” I asked. “Just think of it as a tool. Like a calculator or a ruler.”

  “Yeah, Tom,” she said. “But you’re usually not allowed to use a calculator during a test either.”

  I held up a finger. “But . . . sometimes you are,” I countered. “And the teachers all know about the app now. None of them have banned it.”

  “That’s true,” she agreed.

  I told her about Noah’s hypothetical situation where someone tells a friend about an upcoming pop quiz.

  “I guess that doesn’t seem wrong,” she said.

  “What if that person sends a mass text to all of his or her friends?” I added.

  Sam raised an eyebrow. “That feels like pushing it, to me.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Because of the amount of people they’re telling?”

  “Maybe,” she said. “Or the use of technology.”

  “Okay, how about this?” I leaned closer. “What if I were to tape a sign outside the classroom that warns everyone about the test? It’s low-tech and . . . I’m still telling a lot of people at once.”

  Sam’s eyes lit. “Ah! But the teacher can find the note and decide to take it down. If you send a mass text, then he or she has no say in the matter.”

  She made a good point. And debating with Sam was always fun. Of course, it was usually about more interesting topics like the existence of aliens or time travelers visiting us from the future and the science (or lack) thereof.

  “Sam. Seriously. Why does this bother you so much?” I asked. “You’ve been okay with bending the rules before.”

  It was true. Sam had a crafty side that was a little freaky sometimes. Her sneakiness had been invaluable when we helped find that hacker trying to penetrate my dad’s computer system.

  “Not when it comes to schoolwork, I don’t,” she corrected. “Or when it’s self-serving.”

  “I didn’t mean . . . ,” I began.

  “Look, you know how I got to this school. A great invention that could help ‘save the world.’ ” She said the last part making air quotes. “Well, that’s a lot of pressure, you know? Sometimes I feel that everything I do here is being judged. What will she come up with next? Was her one and only invention just a fluke?” She shook her head. “This school is hard enough as it is. I don’t want people to think that I have to cheat to stay here.”

  “Sam, you’re one of the smartest people I know,” I said.

  “That’s nice of you to say and all,” she said. “But that only adds to the pressure, you know.”

  “Okay, I get why you don’t use the app,” I said. “But why do you care if anyone else does?”

  Sam rubbed her eyes. “Maybe I’m a little jealous, okay? I know these are my self-imposed standards. But maybe I’d like a little early warning for all these stupid quizzes. But I . . . I just can’t.”

  “And that’s why you’re mad at Amy?” I asked. “For building the app?”

  “Well, yeah,” she said, then cringed. “I mean . . . no. Not really.”

  “Then why?”

  Sam stared down for a while and then sighed. “I guess I was mad because . . . well, she didn’t tell me that she was the one who created it. I mean . . . this app is all that anyone is talking about and she doesn’t say a word to me? I’m supposed to be her best friend.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “We’ve all been talking about this app. And you’ve been very . . . open about your opinion. Don’t you think that’s why she didn’t tell you? You don’t want to be judged for using the app. She didn’t want to be judged by her best friend for creating it.”

  Sam opened her mouth to reply but stopped. She raised an eyebrow instead. “All right, Swift. You snuck up on me with that one.” She let out a long breath and ran a hand through her short brown hair. “I was probably way too hard on her.”

  “Hey, whether you believe in it or not,” I said, “or whether you want to use it or not, you have to admit it’s an ingenious app.”

  Sam smiled. “She never gives herself enough credit.”

  I nodded. “That makes two of you.”

  “Do you think she took me seriously and deleted the app after all?” Sam asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. She was pretty upset.”

  “I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Sam said. “Thanks.”

  I raised my hands. “That’s what friends are for.”

  After we logged off, I stood and grabbed my phone. I felt pretty good helping two friends get back together. But I also felt more confused than ever about the app. Here I was defending it and now Sam had planted seeds of doubt back into my mind. I turned the phone over in my hand as I heard a knock on my door.

  My father stood in the open doorway. “I just watched the news and they ran the most interesting story about the academy.”

  I plopped back in my chair. I had completely forgotten about the news crew.

  “So you know about the app, huh?” I asked.

  “Pop Chop?” my dad asked. “I take it this has something to do with the hypothetical questions Noah asked me the other day.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. What do you think?”

  “Mr. Davenport seems okay with it,” my dad replied. “It sounds as if he’s not banning the use of it.”

  “No, he hasn’t,” I said. “But that’s not what I mean. Do you think it’s cheating?”

  My dad shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

  I laughed. “Of course it matters what you think. That’s why I asked.”

  My father shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what I think because I’m not using the app.” He pointed at me. “It only matters what you think.”

  I shook my head and sighed. My dad was frustrating like that sometimes. Once again, he didn’t just come out and say it. But he didn’t have to. I guess if it felt as if you were doing the wrong thing, you probably were.

  “You’re probably right,” I said.

  Even though it wasn’t against the rules, using the app did feel a little like cheating. I could keep using it and always have that twinge of guilt, or I could get rid of it and have a clean conscience about the whole thing. I decided to go ahead and delete the app from my phone. My dad turned to leave just as I turned my phone on.

  Ding-ding.

  The Pop Chop update alert went off.

  “By the way—” My dad stopped but didn’t turn around. “Did you know that some adults can still hear a mosquito ringtone?”

  My jaw dropped.

  My dad raised a finger. “Little-known fact.” He disappeared down the hallway.

  I laughed as I scrolled through my phone. Sure enough, the Pop Chop app indicated that an update was available. I almost ignored it and deleted the app as planned.

  But if an app developer wanted to delete an app from everyone’s phone, he or she would have to issue an update that would do just that. Otherwise, it would be up to the individual user to delete it.

  I went through with th
e update to see if that’s what Amy was doing. Even though I had already made the decision to get rid of the app, I felt better knowing I wouldn’t be the only one.

  After the update went through, the app launched. The update didn’t delete the app after all. Instead, the settings screen came up and the “Enter School” option appeared.

  That was weird. I had already selected my school. Well, “selected” would be overstating it. The only option available before was Swift Academy.

  That had changed.

  When I tapped the drop-down menu, a huge list of schools appeared. I recognized some of the names, but most of them were unfamiliar. It took a lot of scrolling to get down to the “S” section to select the academy.

  After I made the selection, another screen appeared. This one was completely new. “New Feature” was printed at the top with a short paragraph below.

  Now available: Use your camera to photograph a quiz and upload it to the Pop Chop database. Users will have the option to simply be alerted to the upcoming quiz and/or preview the quiz itself.

  That wasn’t the biggest surprise, though. When I swiped past that page, another one came up.

  Trial Period Over, the page read. To continue using Pop Chop, pay $4.99.

  I couldn’t believe it. There was no doubt about the app now. There was no way the principal or any of the teachers would be okay with this. This was definitely cheating—for profit!

  What was Amy thinking?

  9

  The Appropriation Vexation

  THE CELL TOWERS WERE BURNING up the next morning as Sam, Noah, and I exchanged texts about the latest update. We were all shocked that Amy would make such drastic changes to the app. Each of us also tried to text Amy several times. None of us got an answer.

  My father agreed to drop me off at school early so I could meet up with my friends. I didn’t want to tell him about the new development until I had more answers. This also meant that I couldn’t tell him about my decision—that I had already decided to dump the app in the first place. Of course I wanted him to be proud of my choice, but now that was the last thing on my mind. I was too worried about my friend.