Hacker

by Leslie McGill

  Neecy

  With only a short time left in the marking period, many Cap Cent students were panicking. Mr. Sullivan’s after-school homework club was crowded, as more students came in for help. Neecy came every day. JaQuel Rivas came, as well as Charlie Ray and Durand Butler. Even Rainie Burkette, one of the smartest students in the school, started coming in for help.

  “I am swamped this semester,” Rainie said to Neecy as they headed upstairs to Mr. Sullivan’s class. “I feel like I don’t even have a moment to myself.”

  “I hear you,” Neecy said. “I’m exhausted, but so stressed that I can’t even fall asleep anymore.”

  “I’ll be really glad when Mr. Sullivan’s test is over next week,” Rainie said. “I’m even running numbers in my head when I’m running. It’s all I’m thinking about!”

  The girls went into Mr. Sullivan’s class. Mr. Sullivan was helping Eva Morales at the whiteboard.

  The door burst open and a large, noisy group of guys came in. Luther Ransome was there, along with Chance Ruffin, Jair Nobles, Thomas Porter, and a few others.

  “Hey, Sully,” Luther said, looking around the room.

  “Luther, gentlemen, please come in. I’m glad you’ve decided to try to get caught up.”

  Luther started to laugh in an insulting tone. “Oh, I’m not here for help, Sully, my man,” he said. “I’m looking for Keshawn Conner. Seen him?”

  “Not today, Luther. But if you’re not here to work, I suggest you and your friends get out of my room so that these students who do care about their grades can continue.”

  “I think Sully’s disrespecting me!” Luther said, turning to Chance Ruffin. Something about his posture changed, and he looked a little intimidating.

  Chance walked behind Mr. Sullivan’s desk. He picked up a paperweight and a picture frame and set them down again.

  “Chance, get out from behind my desk,” Mr. Sullivan said. “I’m not disrespecting any of you. I am giving you a choice. Take a seat and work on math … or leave.”

  In the back of the room, Charlie Ray tapped Durand Butler on the shoulder. Durand was a wrestler and his muscles showed it.

  “Think he needs help?” Charlie asked. “Let’s just wait,” Durand said. The two boys watched Luther carefully.

  As if he knew they were watching him, Luther looked their way. When he saw Charlie, his face changed from a smirk to raw hatred.

  “I’m watching you, Ray,” he said nastily.

  He stood still for a moment, and then turned suddenly. “Let’s get away from these losers,” he said. He and his friends slammed the door loudly as they left.

  For a moment no one spoke.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Mr. Sullivan said. “Now, where were we?”

  CHAPTER 11

  Keshawn

  The whole school seemed to know that Luther was looking for Keshawn. There was a time when Keshawn would have enjoyed the attention. But now he couldn’t even remember why he ever thought it would improve his prestige. The more tangled up Keshawn got in Luther Ransome’s drama, the more he realized how few people even liked the guy.

  He could hear the church ladies now: live and learn.

  Keshawn found a quiet spot far away from the trophy case in the main lobby of the school. He wanted to get some work done. But mostly, he wanted to hide from Luther. His plan didn’t work. Keshawn heard some loud voices. He peered around the corner and saw Luther and his posse coming down the hall. His heart sank. Luther looked even more angry than usual. He knew Luther was going to give him a new set of instructions.

  Luther put out a hand to stop his boys from going any farther.

  “Who do you think you are, Connor?” he asked. “I need to talk to you. And when I need to talk to you, I need to find you. Fast. So I don’t waste my time looking. Now get over here.”

  Keshawn slowly got up and crossed to the side of the hallway. He didn’t want the others to overhear what Luther was about to say.

  “Did you change Chance’s grades yet?”

  “I don’t have access to all his teachers’ passwords,” Keshawn lied. “They don’t all use the library computers.”

  “Well, get in there and do it,” Luther snapped. “The team doesn’t have time to wait to find out if he’s gonna play guard. And make him get a good grade on Sullivan’s math test next week.”

  “Yes, sir,” Keshawn said sarcastically.

  “And mine too, obviously,” he said.

  “Obviously,” Keshawn echoed.

  “And take this,” he said, handing him a flash drive. “There’s a picture on it. I want you to install it on Sullivan’s computer account.”

  “What is it?” Keshawn asked.

  “Let’s just call it insurance,” Luther said with a nasty laugh. “In case he tries to get cute. Oh, you can look at it if you like,” he added. “Might get you hot.”

  This guy is sick, Keshawn thought. I just want out.

  Now.

  “Look, Luther, can’t we just quit this now?” Keshawn asked. He knew it was futile, but he was so tired of the whole thing. “I’ll change your grade and Chance’s. But can’t we stop at that point?”

  Luther pulled out his phone and rubbed the side. “Do I have to remind you?” he said.

  Keshawn knew Luther was referring to the taped conversation. It seemed like a year ago when he’d first made him that stupid offer.

  “No,” he said miserably.

  I have to end this, Keshawn thought. I need to find a way to make it go away.

  Without getting expelled.

  CHAPTER 12

  Neecy

  In the week before Mr. Sullivan’s math test, Neecy checked with Charlie every night after doing her math homework. After they went over her answers, they would talk—sometimes late into the night.

  The night before the test, Neecy went online to check her grades. The only way she could maintain a 3.0 was if she got a C or higher in math. And the only way she could get a C in math was if she scored at least a 75 percent on the test. Any lower and she would get a D in the class.

  “I’m not sure I can do it,” she told Charlie. She had already said good-night to her mother and was talking on her cell phone from bed. Without ever really talking about it, Charlie and Neecy had become a couple.

  “I have total confidence in you,” he said. “You work really hard. That’s worth something.” “You’re very sweet,” Neecy said. “But it’s math, remember? You’re either right or wrong.”

  Charlie was quiet for a moment. “Can I ask you something?” he said finally.

  “Of course,” she said.

  “Why—crap, this is really hard,” he began. “Why did you kiss me that day?”

  “What?” Neecy exclaimed. “You know exactly why! You asked me for a sign.”

  “A sign?” Charlie said. “What kind of sign?”

  “Charlie Ray, quit messing with me,” Neecy said. “Don’t try to play innocent.”

  “Neecy, I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Charlie said.

  “The e-mail you sent me. Saying you liked me, but that I needed to give you a sign that I liked you too. Remember?” Neecy said.

  Charlie was quiet for a moment. “Neecy, before you kissed me, I never sent you any e-mails,” he said. “The first time I e-mailed you was a day or two after you kissed me.”

  “Okay, now stop it,” Neecy said. “You really think I’d just plant one on you out of nowhere?”

  “Well, no,” Charlie said. “I mean, look at me. How could you resist, right?” he joked. “But seriously. I didn’t e-mail you. Do you still have the e-mail?”

  “No, and that’s sort of strange,” Neecy said. “I went back to look at it, because when you e-mailed me a few days later, you used a different e-mail address. So I was curious about your first one. But when I went to retrieve it, I couldn’t find it.”

  “What was the address?” Charlie asked. “How did you know it was from me?”

 
“It was from GoodTimeCharlieRay, I think at Gmail.”

  “Seriously? Like in ‘Good Time Charlie’? Please tell me you didn’t really think that’s the account name I would use.”

  “Well, who else could it have been from?” Neecy said. “Of course I thought it was from you!”

  “Tell me again what it said?” Charlie asked. “I don’t remember the exact words. Basically that you liked me but were too shy to do anything about it. So I needed to give you a sign as to whether I liked you too.”

  “That’s crazy,” Charlie said. “It doesn’t even sound like me. I mean, I’m glad this all happened, and remembering that kiss keeps me warm at night. But I have to tell you, I didn’t write that e-mail.”

  “Then who did?” Neecy asked. “And why? And whoever did it had my actual e-mail address. How?”

  “No clue,” Charlie answered. “But however it happened, I’m glad it did. I don’t know if I would have made a move on you if you hadn’t kissed me.”

  “So if you didn’t send the e-mail,” Neecy said thoughtfully, “you must have been a bit surprised.”

  “Surprised?” Charlie said with a laugh. “Surprised doesn’t even come close. Stunned is more like it.”

  “Now I’m embarrassed,” Neecy said. “I really thought you liked me.”

  “Did like you. Do like you,” Charlie said. “Somebody did us a solid.”

  “Neecy! Get off the phone and go to bed,” Mrs. Bethune yelled from down the hall.

  “I gotta go,” Neecy said. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Neecy? I hope we find out who wrote that e-mail,” he said. “So I can thank them. Now get some sleep.”

  The next morning Neecy ran into Mr. Sullivan in the hall.

  “I hope you’re feeling okay about this test,” he said. “I know you’ve been working hard.”

  “I hope I do okay,” Neecy said. “I feel better about it than I used to, but I have to get a seventy-five on the test to get a C in the class, and I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “Well, do your best,” Mr. Sullivan said. “You might be surprised. There are actually some people doing better in this class than I had thought. I looked over everyone’s averages last night. There were quite a few surprises.”

  “Hey, Sully, let’s get the party started.” Luther Ransome held up his hand to fist bump Mr. Sullivan. When Mr. Sullivan went to bump his fist back, Luther pulled his hand away and laughed meanly. He walked into class and sat down. Mr. Sullivan shook his head in disgust.

  “Lots of surprises,” Mr. Sullivan said softly.

  The test was hard. Neecy felt like she got some of it but ended up getting lost toward the end of some problems. She wasn’t at all sure she had scored a seventy-five.

  Two days later she learned the bad news when Mr. Sullivan passed back the tests. Not enough to get a C for the class at 72 percent.

  That night, she checked her final grade online. Just as she thought, her average in the class had slipped. Unless a miracle happened between now and three days from now when report cards came out, her GPA would sink below 3.0. She was in serious danger of losing any chance for the D.C. Stars scholarship.

  She broke the news to her mother. Neecy had to look away when she saw the tears in her mother’s eyes.

  “Is there anything you can do?” her mother asked. “Is it over?”

  “There’s always next semester,” Neecy said. “This means I’ll have to get mostly As to bring my average up.”

  “What about talking to your teachers?” her mother asked. “I think you should do anything you can to squeeze out a few more points. You’re so close. It would be a crime to throw away this opportunity.”

  “I didn’t throw it away,” Neecy said. “Mom, I’ve kept my grades up every year since fifth grade. I’m one of maybe six D.C. Stars left. This semester is just so hard.”

  “Well, maybe if you did schoolwork instead of hanging out with your friends and talking on your phone so much,” her mother shot back. “I’ve heard you talking late into the night this week,” she added. “I’ve never heard you talk so much.”

  “ ’Cause I’ve been getting help on my math,” Neecy shouted. “Charlie Ray, one of the smartest guys in the school, has been tutoring me. I just can’t do it. I’m not smart enough to go to college.”

  “You’re more than smart enough,” her mother said. “And you’ll figure something out. You’ll have to. Without that scholarship, your chances for college are gone.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Neecy cried. “I’m doing my best.”

  “Well, you must do better than that,” her mother said. “Whatever it takes to keep your scholarship? That’s what you have to do.”

  Her mom walked out of Neecy’s room and slammed the door. Neecy threw herself on her bed and buried her face in her pillow.

  CHAPTER 13

  Keshawn

  Keshawn knew he had to find some way to get out of the mess he’d created. But if he quit changing the grades, Luther Ransome could turn him in. Luther would play the tape, and Keshawn would be out of school before the day was out.

  He sat in church one Sunday afternoon thinking about what he had done. He knew Deacon Sharpe would tell him to turn himself in. He believed in honesty, no matter the consequences. Keshawn’s mother and grandmother did as well. What he had been doing was completely outside the reality of these good people. He wished he could talk to someone about it. Gotten some advice about how to get out of the mess. But there was no one.

  He got himself into it, and he had to get himself out. Hopefully without getting caught. Because the consequences of what he’d been doing would be dire. For sure he’d be expelled. From Capital Central and maybe from all D.C. schools. And he wasn’t sure, but he suspected that what he had done might even be against the law.

  That would be ironic, Keshawn thought. I’ll be the smartest computer geek in jail.

  He couldn’t just quit changing grades. But he needed to find a way to quit being able to change the grades. And the only way he would no longer be able to change grades would be if his access to the database were blocked. The only way that would happen was if the school figured out what was happening. Once they knew they’d been hacked, Mrs. Hess and the rest of the school administration would scramble to fix the holes in their sloppy security. Then no student—no matter how skilled—would have access to the database ever again.

  As the church service entered its third hour, he started to work on a plan. For the plan to work, he had to choose just the right moment to put it into play. It had to be after grades were posted online—but before report cards were actually printed. It would take some military-style precision.

  As the church ladies would say, timing is everything.

  He also needed to find the right person to use as his unwitting accomplice. Someone who he could count on to be totally honest. Someone with too much integrity to put up with dishonesty.

  In other words, someone not like him.

  Keshawn thought long and hard about who to use. He needed someone who the school administrators would never believe had tampered with the grades.

  Luther Ransome was obviously out. As was anyone who hung around with him.

  And other athletes were out as well. Each of them was under too much pressure to remain eligible to play. Keshawn couldn’t trust that any of them would do the right thing.

  But one name kept popping into Keshawn’s head.

  Neecy Bethune.

  He had no way of being certain that she would do the right thing. But he had to give it a shot.

  “Hallelujah!” he yelled.

  The church ladies all turned and looked at him, startled.

  “It is good to express joy in church,” Deacon Sharpe said from the pulpit. “Let us all say it together: Hallelujah!”

  CHAPTER 14

  Neecy

  Report card day.

  Mr. Sullivan told the class to break up into small groups to work on some problems. Neecy and Raini
e moved their desks to form a group with Joss, Eva, and JaQuel.

  “I am getting so pumped for the game against Banneker this weekend,” Eva said. “Do you think we have a chance?” she asked JaQuel.

  “Depends on whether we can all play,” he said. “And that depends on what our report cards say this afternoon.”

  “Hey, why the long faces?” Luther Ransome asked, sitting in an empty desk. He moved the desk so that it was right beside Neecy.

  No one said anything to him. Finally, he laughed. “I’ll bet you’re all worried about your grades, right?”

  “Pretty much,” Neecy said.

  “Not me,” he said. “Luther Ransome doesn’t worry about grades. And I already checked. I’m good to go,” he added. “How ’bout you, Quel?”

  “I don’t know,” JaQuel said. “It’s close. I hope I’m over the line.”

  “You’re lucky you only need a 2.0 to be eligible,” Neecy said. “I think I may have dipped below 3.0 this semester.”

  “No way!” Joss said. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, unfortunately. I checked last night.”

  “Well, maybe you’ll be surprised,” Joss said sympathetically.

  “Neecy? Is your group ready to present the answer to the first problem?” Mr. Sullivan asked.

  “Uh, not quite,” Neecy said.

  “Some other group?” Mr. Sullivan asked the class. Another group volunteered. Neecy tried to follow what they had done, but she was too lost.

  Finally, the bell rang. As she packed up her books, Mr. Sullivan said, “Neecy? Could I see you please?”

  Neecy stopped at Mr. Sullivan’s desk. Charlie stood at the door and waited for her.

  “I hope you’re not going to be too surprised when you see your grade in this class,” he said. “I know you have a lot riding on maintaining your grades. Hopefully, your average across all your classes will permit you to keep your scholarship. As always, if you want some extra help, I’m here.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Sullivan,” Neecy said.