Hacker

by Leslie McGill

  “What was it about this photo that you found so disturbing?” Mr. Fisher asked. “You’re dressed just like this today.”

  “But that’s not the—” Luther stopped himself from saying anything more. He stood up and walked back to his seat. He threw himself down. Every muscle in his body seemed tense, like if he could, he would have punched the life out of someone.

  “So this message says that the sender hoped someday you’d play for the Redskins. And you thought it was porn? How does this have anything to do with your math grade being changed? Help me out here, son, because none of this is making sense,” Mr. Fisher said.

  “We’re ready over here too,” one of the school system security guys said. “Same sender. Same message. Different picture.”

  He turned the computer around so everyone could see. On it was a group of graduates in caps and gowns. Chance’s face had been superimposed over the face of one of the graduates.

  Luther was breathing hard. Neecy wondered if everyone could hear how agitated he sounded. “Sit back down, son,” the man said to Chance.

  Mr. Fisher pointed to something on the laptop he’d used to access Luther’s e-mail. He clicked a few keys and stopped. Then the security guy clicked a few times on the laptop that held Chance’s e-mail. Then he stopped.

  “Boys, what are you playing at here?” Mr. Fisher asked. “Do you really think we’re too stupid to know what you’re up to?”

  No one said a word.

  “Why don’t you tell us, Mr. Fisher?” Mrs. Hess said. She sounded puzzled.

  “Well, these e-mails were forwarded to these students from other accounts. They didn’t originate with TeacherCrusher, whoever that is. The original account names are at the bottom, so we can see where they were sent from initially.”

  “And?” Mrs. Hess urged.

  “Are those your account names, gentlemen, ‘HandsomeRansome’ and…” Mr. Fisher cleared his throat. “Um, ‘TakeAChance’?”

  “Get out!” Chance yelled. “I never—”

  “Mrs. Hess,” Mr. Fisher said incredulously. “They sent these e-mails to each other.”

  Luther shook his head slowly. Neecy would have bet he didn’t know the e-mails had come from their accounts. Suddenly, she remembered the e-mail message from GoodTimeCharlieRay that resulted in her kissing Charlie. The same person had to be responsible.

  “So let me get this straight,” Mrs. Hess said. “Luther, you accused Mr. Sullivan of sending you an inappropriate e-mail with a disturbing photo attached. But the e-mail and photo was actually from Chance. And you sent Chance an e-mail and photo. Do I have that right?”

  Luther said nothing. He just clenched and unclenched his hands.

  “And as for you, Chance, you sent Luther an e-mail that—”

  “I did not!” Chance yelled. “Look, I didn’t know my grade was changed. I didn’t pay any attention to that e-mail because I thought it was spam. And I never sent Luther any e-mail saying I hoped he’d play for the ’Skins. Someone’s hacking, and it ain’t me!”

  “How about you, Luther?” Mrs. Hess asked. “Anything you want to say?”

  “Yeah, find the hacker,” he said. “Did you find my phone yet?”

  “Your phone?” Mrs. Hess asked, confused. “What does your phone have to do with what we’re discussing here?”

  “Just asking,” Luther said.

  Neecy was confused by his question. It wasn’t to the situation he was facing. She wondered what the connection could be between his phone and the changed grades.

  “All right, we need to talk to decide how we’re going to proceed,” Mrs. Hess said. “We don’t have any proof that either of you accessed our grading system to change your own grades. Yet. But, Luther, you’ve made some very serious accusations about Mr. Sullivan. We do have proof that your accusations are lies. So you lied about a teacher. You and Chance sent each other the e-mails.”

  She turned to the school security guard. “Mr. Gable, please put Chance and Luther in separate offices for the time being, and then come back here. Neecy, you may go back to class. I hope we can count on you not to discuss this with anyone. And let me just say, we’re all really proud of you for having done the right thing. I know when you talked to Mr. Sullivan about your grade, you had no idea how much you would help us uncover a real hacking scandal. So we are very grateful.”

  Neecy was warmed by the principal’s words. She left the room and returned to class.

  At lunchtime, JaQuel Rivas stopped by the table where Neecy and her friends were sitting.

  “Bad news,” he said. “I ran into Luther in the hall. He was getting his stuff out of his locker. Both he and Chance are off the team.”

  The whole table expressed their shock. “What’d they do?” Eva asked.

  “Neither one of them made grades,” JaQuel said.

  “But they showed their report cards to Coach yesterday,” Ferg said. “And they were fine.”

  “Apparently the wrong grades were posted.”

  “How is that even possible?” Joss said. “The whole system is computerized.”

  “I don’t know, but that’s what he said,” JaQuel responded.

  Neecy looked around the table. Each of her friends was looking at JaQuel as he talked.

  Then someone caught her eye.

  Keshawn Connor. He was at the next table.

  And he was looking at her.

  Their eyes held for a long moment, and then Keshawn raised an eyebrow and gave her a crooked smile.

  Then Neecy knew.

  She knew who sent the e-mails to Luther and Chance. She knew who raised her grade. And she knew who had sent the e-mail that brought her and Charlie together.

  She didn’t know why, and she didn’t know how. But she knew it was Keshawn.

  “But here’s the other thing,” JaQuel said. “Chance is allowed to stay, but Luther’s suspended for five days.”

  “No way!” Eva exclaimed. She turned to Neecy. “That should make you happy, Neecy,” she joked. “A Luther-free week.”

  “Oh yes, the whole thing makes me very happy,” Neecy said with a laugh. “In fact, I wish I could personally thank whoever was responsible. We’ll probably never know, but he knows who he is and what he did. And he’s my hero,” she said.

  “What makes you so sure it’s a he?” Joss asked.

  “Just a hunch,” Neecy said. Then, when nobody was looking, she glanced at Keshawn and grinned.

  CHAPTER 21

  Keshawn

  Keshawn was impressed that Neecy figured it out. Or figured out some of it. When he heard her say he was her hero, he felt both good and bad. Sure, he fixed it, but she didn’t realize that he had also created the mess in the first place. He hoped she never learned the whole story.

  He would have given anything to know what had happened in Mrs. Hess’s office. All he knew was that Neecy was called to the office, came back a while later, and rumors started flying about Luther and Chance being off the basket-ball team.

  After school, Keshawn tried to go to the library, but there was a sign on the door saying it was closed for maintenance. He looked in and saw Mr. Fisher and a few other men in suits at the computers. Hopefully, they were uninstalling the keystroke-tracking program.

  He started to walk toward the doors by the trophy case. The cheerleaders were practicing. Neecy was dressed for practice, but she had come out of the gym and was talking to Mr. Sullivan.

  Keshawn pretended to be interested in the trophies while he strained to hear their conversation. The cheerleaders were so loud that he could only hear parts of it.

  “Talked to the D.C. Stars … explained what happened and what you did … every teacher in this school … Whatever it takes to help you get your grades up to … asked me to tell you … Additional scholarship for good citizenship …”

  So it seemed like Neecy might be all right after all. Keshawn left the building and began walking home. As soon as he got to the end of the parking lot where Bladensburg Road met Mary
land Avenue, he saw Luther and Chance. They were waiting, and he knew they were waiting for him. He was in big trouble.

  He stopped dead as they walked toward him. Luther pushed him in the chest so hard he fell. He stayed down. No sense getting pushed again.

  “Think you’re smart, moron?” Luther said. “You think this is gonna go away?”

  “I don’t think anything,” Keshawn said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Keshawn had been burned one other time for talking when he didn’t know he was being recorded. He wasn’t going to get burned again.

  “Oh, now you’re playing dumb too?” Luther said. “Well, guess what? That recording on my phone? I saved a copy of it on my computer at home. If you think this is over, you’re even dumber than you look. It’s not over till Luther Ransome says it’s over.”

  Keshawn got up and dusted off the seat of his pants. “Actually, it’s over when Keshawn Connor says it’s over,” he said. “That picture you gave me on the flash drive? The one you told me to bury in Mr. Sullivan’s account? I didn’t. I buried it in your account instead. It’s on every computer you’ve touched since you gave it to me. You try anything, you touch me, you spread lies about me, then I tell the school and the cops where to look for it.”

  He was lying. Totally. But he hoped Luther didn’t know that. Keshawn also hoped that the picture Luther had given him was inappropriate enough that the thought of it being on his computer accounts would keep Luther from ever messing with him again.

  “You can’t do that,” Luther scoffed. “You can’t access someone else’s computer.”

  “Really?” Keshawn asked. “Well, NFL2B, you better hope you’re right.”

  The look on Luther’s face turned from anger to stunned horror. Keshawn knew Luther was realizing that access to Luther’s password meant Keshawn had access to his accounts. Apparently it never dawned on Luther that if Keshawn could find a way into teachers’ accounts, he could just as easily find a way into his.

  The church ladies were right again, what goes around comes around.

  “So this is it,” Keshawn said. “It’s over. We’re even. I know what you did, and you know what I did. We’re through. You ever try messing with me again, and I destroy you.”

  “You’ll pay for this, Connor,” Luther said as he turned to walk away.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” Keshawn called out.

  The two thugs turned back to face him.

  “I’ve left files everywhere that outline exactly what happened. Every threat. Every move. You ever touch me? There are people around town who know what to do. Anything ever happens to me? They open those files and take them straight to the cops. When I say we’re done, we’re done.”

  The look in Luther’s eyes was murderous. He and Chance turned to walk away.

  Keshawn reached into his pocket and turned off his cell phone so it wouldn’t record any longer. Then he headed home.

  As the church ladies would say, all’s well that ends well.

  Though that was actually Shakespeare.

  About the Author

  Leslie McGill was raised in Pittsburgh. She attended Westminster College in New Wilmington, Pennsylvania, and American University in Washington, D.C. She lives in Silver Spring, Maryland, a suburb of Washington, D.C., where she works in a middle school library. She lives with her husband, a newspaper editor, and has two adult children, both of whom have chosen to live as far from home as possible.