Hacker

by Leslie McGill

  Keshawn hung around, waiting for Luther. When he saw him come out the school’s Maryland Avenue door, he stepped in his path. And he made him an offer.

  Money for grades.

  What happened next was the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to Keshawn.

  Luther laughed at him. Just threw back his head and howled.

  “Homes, I am not about to pay you to tutor me,” he said when he caught his breath. “Luther Ransome does not need to be schooled!”

  Keshawn later realized this was one of many signs that he should have walked away. He had always hated people who referred to themselves in the third person.

  But if he was honest, he knew why he didn’t leave. His pride was hurt. Here Keshawn was offering Luther an illegal, sophisticated way to solve his problem. Instead of being impressed or grateful, he ridiculed Keshawn for what he thought was an offer of tutoring.

  Tell him what he can do to himself and walk away, Keshawn’s conscience and dignity advised.

  Tell him how much he needs you, his wounded ego urged.

  Ego won.

  Keshawn told him he had found a way of changing grades. That he would change any grade for twenty bucks each. He even told him the first change was “on the house,” so he could see that Keshawn could actually deliver.

  “Your fifty-two percent on that math test last week?” Keshawn said, all cocky. “If you’re interested, say the word and it will go from failing to a C.”

  Keshawn stood a little taller when he saw Luther’s look of respect.

  “For real? You can do this?” he asked.

  Keshawn nodded.

  “But how?” he asked. “Is there any chance we’ll get caught?”

  “None,” Keshawn said confidently.

  What a joke. Keshawn had no idea if he could get caught doing this or not. But he didn’t want to show Luther any weakness.

  Even Luther was perplexed at Keshawn’s motives.

  “Why are you doing this?” Luther asked.

  “I don’t know,” Keshawn said. He didn’t want to say it was for the money. Then something made him add, “You seemed like you could use a friend.”

  A look passed over Luther’s face that Keshawn couldn’t read. He tried to convince himself that it was gratitude. It wouldn’t take long for him to learn that it was the way Luther showed total contempt.

  “Well, thanks,” he said. “But I’m not convinced you can make this work. So go ahead, do it,” he said. “And if you’re successful, I’ll start paying you.”

  “It’s done,” Keshawn boasted. “Check your grades online. That fifty-two doesn’t exist.”

  Luther looked at Keshawn long and hard. “My man,” he said finally. “I think we can do a lot of business together.”

  His fist bump made Keshawn’s heart soar. He hoped the whole school had seen it. Luther Ransome didn’t act friendly like that to just anyone. Especially a nobody geek. Keshawn figured his coolness stock had just gone up.

  By then, Luther’s friends had seen that he had arrived on the hill. “Hey, dawg, let’s eat,” Thomas Porter said.

  Thomas Porter had transferred to Cap Cent a few weeks into the semester. He was a bad dude. Just the kind of guy Deacon Sharpe warned parents about.

  Luther started to walk away. “I’ll catch up with you later,” he said to Keshawn.

  Keshawn nodded and went to the library.

  He was so proud to have a skill that a guy like Luther Ransome needed. It felt really, really good.

  As the church ladies would say, pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.

  CHAPTER 4

  Neecy

  Eva walked down the long corridor and made it into Mr. Sullivan’s second period math class a minute before the late bell rang. She started for her usual seat beside Joss White. Before she could sit down, Keshawn Connor pushed a few desks out of the way and sat down quickly in the desk behind Eva’s. That desk was beside Rainie Burkette, who was already working on the day’s warm-up exercise.

  Rainie looked up in surprise. Keshawn sat where Neecy usually sat. Eva shot a questioning look at Joss and Rainie. Both girls shook their heads in confusion. Eva put her backpack under her desk and turned around.

  “Keshawn?” she said.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You know you’re in Neecy’s seat,” Eva said. Mr. Sullivan didn’t actually assign seats, but the girls had been sitting together since the first day of school.

  “What difference does it make?”

  “Makes a difference to us,” Eva said.

  “That’s been Neecy’s seat since September, and she’ll want to sit there,” added Rainie.

  Keshawn didn’t move. For a moment, it looked as if he was going to make a big deal over it. But instead, he gathered up his books and stood up.

  “Seriously, Keshawn,” Rainie said.

  “Whatever,” he said. He picked up his back-pack and walked to the front.

  “Thanks,” Eva called out to his back. But he didn’t turn around. “What the heck was that about?” Eva asked Joss and Rainie as she sat down.

  “I have no clue,” Joss said. “That was so random. Where does he usually sit?”

  “He usually sits way in the back,” Rainie said.

  “Really?” Joss said. “I’ve never paid attention to him. But sitting with us is just weird.”

  “Probably thinks you’re hot, like every other guy in the school,” Eva said.

  “Oh, puh-leeze!” Joss laughed.

  “What did Carlos say about the glasses?”

  “He said I look smart,” Joss said. “That’s only because he knows I’d kill him if he said they made me look like a geek.”

  “You couldn’t look geeky if you tried,” Eva said.

  “Luther, leave me alone!” Even in the middle of the room, the girls could hear Neecy’s voice from the hallway. She burst through the classroom door and whirled around. She looked tiny against the huge football player standing behind her.

  “I am really tired of you messing with me,” she said angrily. “And why are you always laughing at me, Chance?” she said to Chance Ruffin, Luther Ransome’s best friend. “You need to leave me alone. It’s not funny anymore.”

  “Girl, you say that to me now, but like I told you, it ain’t over with Luther Ransome till Luther Ransome says it’s over,” Luther said with a sneer.

  “Over? It never started,” Neecy hissed. She walked to her desk and sat down. Her anger made her face flush.

  Eva and Joss turned in their seats to face Neecy. “What was that all about?” Eva asked.

  “Ugh. Give me a minute to calm down,” Neecy said. “Okay, here’s the story. A couple of weeks ago, I was walking home from school and Luther caught up with me. He said he ‘just happened’ to be walking in my direction. I should have realized something was up because he lives over by Gallaudet University. And he never walks anywhere. He drives that big Escalade. Anyway, he walked as far as my house with me. When we got there, he asked me if we could hook up sometime.”

  “Ew. He actually said ‘hook up’?” Eva asked with a disgusted look. “Just like that?”

  “I know, right?” Neecy said. “He’s got no class. But anyway, I was so shocked by his question that I didn’t answer the way I should have. I should have said that I wouldn’t hook up with him if he were the last guy on the planet. Like, if the choice was for me to hook up with Luther or all of mankind would be doomed, I’d kiss mankind good-bye.”

  The girls laughed.

  “So you didn’t tell him that you were willing to sacrifice the whole human race rather than hook up with him,” Joss said. “How did you answer him?”

  “I sort of hemmed and hawed. I honestly was so stunned by his question that I don’t even know what I answered. But I guess I wasn’t as clear as I should have been because he’s been annoying me ever since. He calls and asks when we’re gonna hook up. He’s always texting me at night. And lately he’s been followi
ng me. Either him or Chance Ruffin. And he’s just plain creepy. At least Luther doesn’t scare me the way Chance does.”

  Mr. Sullivan walked into class right as the bell rang. “All right, class, let’s get started,” he said.

  “Luther and Chance both give me the jimjams,” Eva whispered. “Nothing I can ever put my finger on. But I just don’t trust either one of them.”

  “Me neither,” Joss said. “Look at them now.”

  Luther Ransome was talking angrily to Keshawn Connor. Keshawn had taken a seat in the front of the room. Luther was gesturing over his shoulder toward where the girls were sitting. Keshawn looked down at his desk with a miserable expression. Chance looked at the girls and wiggled his tongue in and out before he and Luther took a seat.

  “Oh, yuck,” Eva said.

  “Does he think that will make us want him or something?” asked Rainie.

  Joss laughed so hard she snorted.

  Neecy looked away. “Please. I don’t want him to think I’m even looking at him,” she said. “But wait, I’m not done. Last night, I texted Luther back and told him I was never going to hook up with him, and I wanted him to leave me alone.”

  “What did he say?” Joss asked.

  “He said no,” Neecy said. “No! Who says no to that? And what do I do now?”

  “Ladies,” Mr. Sullivan said firmly. “Considering some of your grades in this class, I would advise you to pay attention.”

  The class got quiet as they worked on the warm-up exercise displayed on the whiteboard.

  Neecy completed the first two steps of the problem but then got stumped. She looked around the room. It seemed like everyone else was getting it.

  Mr. Sullivan looked up from his desk and saw Neecy looking around. “Miss Bethune, approach please,” he said in his formal manner.

  Neecy put down her pencil and walked to the front of the class.

  “You’re in real danger of failing this class,” he said in a low voice. “You seem to be falling further and further behind. I’ve never seen you at my after-school homework club where I could help you get caught up. Do you just not care?”

  “I do care, Mr. Sullivan,” Neecy said. “In fact, I probably care more than anyone in this room. I’m one of the D.C. Stars.”

  “So that means you have to maintain a 3.0 GPA to qualify for the scholarship, right?” Mr. Sullivan asked.

  Neecy nodded. “I know I’m struggling in this class, but I’m really trying, I promise,” she said. “I’m just not getting it. Is it possible to move to an easier math class?”

  “I’m not ready to recommend that,” Mr. Sullivan said. “But I suggest you come for extra help before grades are released. Because once the grade has been recorded, it’s on your permanent record. That’s what the D.C. Stars people will see. Let me check where you are now.” He hit some keys on his computer keyboard. “Hmm. Not good. Not good at all,” he said. “You have a sixty-eight average. Unless you get it up, and soon, that will be recorded as a D.”

  “I know. I’ll try harder,” Neecy said. She turned and walked toward her seat. Luther Ransome turned sideways in his chair and stuck out his leg, blocking her path.

  “Really?” Neecy said. She kicked his leg out of the way and went back to her desk.

  The door to the room opened and JaQuel Rivas walked in.

  “Nice of you to join us,” Mr. Sullivan said sarcastically.

  “Sorry,” JaQuel said, sitting in the empty desk near Neecy.

  “Please get to work on the warm-up,” Mr. Sullivan said.

  “Neecy, do you have any idea what’s going on in this class?” JaQuel whispered.

  “None,” Neecy said.

  “This class is killing me,” JaQuel said. “And I have to pass it. If I don’t make grades, I’ll get kicked off the basketball team. Already the guys are starting to give me grief about that. As if I’m doing it on purpose!”

  “JaQuel, Neecy, please stop talking and get to work,” Mr. Sullivan said.

  “Mr. Sullivan, it’s hopeless,” Neecy said. “I am so lost.”

  “All right, who wants to explain it to Neecy?” Mr. Sullivan asked. “Anyone?”

  The class was quiet. Finally, Rainie Burkette raised her hand. “I can try,” she said.

  Rainie had always been one of Cap Central’s top students. She had a part-time job, and lately she’d started running a lot. Neecy wondered how she was able to keep up her grades with all her extra activities.

  “Come up here and play teacher for a minute,” Mr. Sullivan said. “Since you’re the only brave one in the class.”

  Rainie stood in front of the whiteboard and bit her lip. She then began writing numbers and symbols while explaining what she was doing. When she got to the end, she turned to Mr. Sullivan with a sheepish smile. “I’m falling down at the end here,” she said.

  “You did fine,” Mr. Sullivan said. “But you got a little off track right about there.” He pointed to one set of numbers. “Neecy? How about it? Can you see where Rainie made her mistake?”

  Neecy laughed. “Not a chance, Mr. Sullivan,” she said.

  “I can do it,” Charlie Ray said.

  He stood up and walked to the whiteboard. Erasing some of Rainie’s figures, he quickly finished the problem.

  “Thank you, Doctor Ray,” Mr. Sullivan said playfully. “Some of you who are struggling should get on Charlie’s good side so he can help you over the hurdle. Now let’s get to work on today’s lesson.”

  He walked up to the whiteboard and began to teach.

  Luther Ransome turned in his seat and looked back at Neecy. He pointed to her and then pointed to himself. Then he nodded slowly.

  “I hate him,” Neecy whispered.

  CHAPTER 5

  Keshawn

  Keshawn felt like such an idiot. He really liked that group of girls: Eva, Joss, Rainie, and Neecy. Their crowd was friendly. They must have thought he was crazy taking Neecy’s seat. But Luther told him to do it.

  He had no choice.

  He had to do whatever Luther told him to.

  As the church ladies would say, lie down with dogs, wake up with fleas.

  Or as Keshawn Connor told himself fifty times a day, you have only your own stupid self to blame.

  He could have pulled the plug on the whole rotten scheme before he had gotten in any deeper. But he didn’t. And by the time he realized the trap he was in, it was too late to escape.

  After Keshawn had made his offer, Luther didn’t say anything for a few days. Keshawn had checked Luther’s grades online and saw that his changes had not been corrected. Apparently, the alterations were not discovered.

  About a week later, Luther stopped Keshawn as he left school one afternoon. He asked him to come sit in his car for a minute.

  His car was beautiful—on the outside. A big black Cadillac Escalade. Keshawn climbed in and was shocked at the condition inside. It was trashed. Taco Bell and McDonald’s wrappers, empty soda cans, and lots of athletic clothes thrown everywhere.

  Later, Keshawn realized the car was just like Luther. Looking good on the outside, but a mess on the inside.

  To quote the church ladies, pretty is as pretty does.

  “I just want to make sure I understand what you’re offering,” Luther said. “I think I was so surprised that you actually wanted to help me that I didn’t pay real close attention last week. Tell me again.”

  “Sure,” Keshawn said. Even to himself, he sounded too eager. “I have access to the database. I’m not going to tell you how.”

  Who do you think you are, James Bond? a little voice inside Keshawn’s head warned. After all, he had only tried this one time, with one teacher’s grades.

  “So I can tweak your grades anytime you need me to,” he continued. “All you have to do is pay me twenty bucks a pop, tell me what grades you want changed, and I’ll do it.”

  “But isn’t this illegal?” Luther asked.

  Right, Luther Ransome, the Boy Scout. When Keshawn looked back
on this conversation, he couldn’t believe he didn’t see what was coming.

  “Of course it is.” Keshawn laughed in what he hoped was a manly, conspiratorial tone. “But that’s what you’re paying me for.”

  “I don’t know,” Luther said. “It seems dangerous. And wrong.” He put his hand in his pocket. “Don’t worry about it,” Keshawn said. “I know what I’m doing. I came to you, not the other way around.”

  “Okay, fix Chance’s math grade so he’s passing,” he said.

  Keshawn had never offered to do anyone else’s grades, only Luther’s. So he shook his head no. “Sorry, dude,” he said, trying to sound slick. “Too risky to make too many changes.”

  “You’ll do it, dude, and you’ll do it for free,” Luther said, his voice dripping with contempt. “Along with anything else I tell you to do. And here’s why.”

  He pulled out his cell phone and touched the screen a few times. Keshawn’s voice came out loud and clear:

  Keshawn: I have access to the database. I’m not going to tell you how. So I can tweak your grades anytime you need me to. All you have to do is pay me twenty bucks a pop, tell me what grades you want changed, and I’ll do it.

  Luther: But isn’t this illegal?

  Keshawn: Of course it is. But that’s what you’re paying me for.

  Luther: I don’t know. It seems dangerous. And wrong.

  That’s it, Keshawn thought. My life is officially down the toilet.

  Luther could play that recording to anyone, and they’d know that Keshawn was responsible. In fact, it sounded like Luther was declining Keshawn’s offer. If the school ever accused Luther of somehow changing his own grades, he could easily say that Keshawn had made the offer. And Luther could be heard saying it was wrong.

  Keshawn was screwed. Luther could now blackmail him into doing pretty much anything he asked. The grades were already changed, so there was proof that Keshawn had hacked into the school’s network.

  Unless, Keshawn thought with a start, unless there was no proof of what the original grades had been.