The Takedown Page 13

Oh, wait, that’s right. Mac wasn’t my boyfriend.

  Thank you, self-sabotaging Kyle.

  Anytime, trust-your-instincts Kyle.

  When Mac saw me, he gave me his sexy lopsided playah grin, flashed me a peace sign, then hiked his jeans and walked in the other direction. Ailey shot me a What the…? look, then hurried to keep up with him. I could hear her voice chattering all the way down the hall. Wanting very much to scream, I instead wrapped Sharma in a tight hug.

  “I’m sorry you traded your sword and lost the ability to be invisible and kill your enemies with one stroke. Sounds like a perfect weapon right about now.”

  Sharma adjusted her glasses. “Don’t forget regenerate lost limbs.”

  “Smile, Kylie-cat,” Audra sang through her teeth while holding her Doc up to mine, her eyes narrowed after Mac. “Everyone’s watching.”

  I lowered my Doc before it tapped hers.

  “Honestly, Audra, I could care less. F them and F my life.”

  Audra’s brow furrowed. “Firstly, I would think that you had learned by now that you should always care who’s watching. And second, I don’t want to be that gal, except we all know I am, so I’m just going to say I warned you, didn’t I? If you wanted him, you should have lassoed that stallion while you had the chance.”

  “Ailey has a boyfriend,” Fawn said.

  “I’m not saying it’s Ailey she has to worry about. Just be ready for some competition. Now that people think you were with Mr. E., they’ll see a big old For Rent sign on Mac.” Then with seemingly complete indifference, Audra casually asked, “Is Mac for rent, B-T-W?”

  “Why, Audy, you in the market?”

  Her eyes narrowed with displeasure, but taking her own advice, she pouted her lips and fixed my necklace so it was lying flat against my sternum.

  “Maybe. I mean, if you don’t want to experience his thumb magic, I don’t see why I shouldn’t partake.”

  Her whole body shivered in anticipation.

  “Auds, sometimes you can be such a…”

  “Brat?”

  She gestured to the word on her chest like she was an old-skool game-show girl. Then she cackled and sauntered off to class.

  Actually, I would have said BTCH.

  I really needed to get into her Doc.

  “The shift to the digital rules we live by all started with SeaWorld.”

  The law office was on the thirtysomethingth floor of a Gothic building on Lexington Avenue. Looking at it from the street, I imagined tiny, dark offices with low ceilings. Once inside, I saw I wasn’t far off. It was a little before one, but three floor lamps were turned on, along with the overheads, and it still felt dimly lit.

  Rick Brenner was the lawyer. A few of the people on the parenting forum Dad found had raved about him. He specialized in social-media and entertainment-media law. As soon as we entered his office, I knew he’d be no help. His walls were hung with actual black-and-white photographs framed inside pristine white mats. We were getting media advice from someone who still shot with film.

  “SeaWorld,” I said. “Terrific.”

  Mom tensed next to me. She’d surprisingly said nothing about the word on my chest, though she had given me a tissue and some serious directional eyebrows in the elevator ride up. Dad let out a weak laugh. The lawyer gave them a reassuring smile.

  “I also have a teenage daughter. And yes, SeaWorld. It was a live-animal theme park.”

  I laughed. “I’m not that young. I know what SeaWorld was.”

  I also knew it went under when I was, like, seven, after a tech company opened up a bunch of 3-D ocean holoparks. The holoparks were expensive to build, but a lot cheaper to maintain. The boycotts over animal cruelty and the massive sea-life deaths made it harder and harder for the live-animal parks to keep stock and draw tourists, despite the fact that they’d stopped breeding orcas. And who’d want to just look at animals swimming in water when you could be “in” the water with them?

  My Doc buzzed with a txt from Mom.

  mama Manners. NOW.

  “Good. But did you know that back in 2007,” Rick Brenner continued, unfazed, “SeaWorld began making its patrons use their fingerprints to enter the park? Initially you could present a paper ID and avoid the process, but after a few years they took that option away because hardly anyone used it except for privacy spooks. Turned out, most customers didn’t care about their data. People thought using a thumbprint for entry was easy, and even cool. The other major theme parks weren’t far behind. Other companies and venues quickly followed suit, until agreeing to give up your biometrics became a standard part of going anywhere.

  “Take your local grocery store. There was a time when people clipped coupons out of the newspaper to access deals and the store had no lasting connection to you. Thus the invention of rewards cards so the store could track your purchases, fine-tune their ordering, and increase their profits. However, rewards cards were optional, and a large percentage of people chose not to sign up for them.

  “Nowadays, as you know, grocery stores are automated to the degree that you cannot purchase anything in them without submitting some form of your biometrics. In trade for your personal information—including everything from what you buy to the data your Doc sends unencrypted via their Wi-Fi—the store lets you purchase food. If you don’t agree, you don’t buy food.”

  I sighed loudly. I might as well have been in my New World Borders class.

  Over me, Mom said, “So when my daughter signed up to be a member of YurTube, she signed away all her rights as a member.”

  “Exactly. And right now, because of the unusually high quality of the forgery, the services that are hosting and profiting from the views can plausibly take the position that it is actually Kyla in the video. Because she’s a user, she’s agreed to let them use anything they can reasonably confirm as being her, even if it’s explicit in content. It’s disturbing, but per the agreement that everyone clicks through—and doesn’t read—when signing into new accounts, it’s perfectly legal. Especially since the cutoff age is only thirteen.”

  “Isn’t there a way for Kyle to permanently untag herself from these videos?” Dad asked.

  “Possibly,” the lawyer said, “but there was the case of Barton versus Watchyou.com. CGI is quickly becoming indistinguishable from reality. In a situation where someone wishes to untag themselves, a service might reserve the right to keep the tag, if they think that the user is untagging themselves from a tag that is accurate. Remember: these services make money from content, and if someone wants to untag themselves, it’s probably because the content is something that someone else will want to watch…which is why the services will fight any attempt at takedowns.”

  “I can’t believe this is legal,” I said.

  “For that, you can thank the social-media lobby. Anytime the government tries to crack down on misuse of information, the media outlets compare the situation to the censoring that China still has in place and the overturned ‘right to be forgotten’ law that the EU passed earlier in the century, and every user gets up in arms about free speech and a free web. Don’t get me wrong. A free web is primarily a good thing.”

  “Except when it isn’t,” I said.

  “Right,” Rick said. “You said the IP address was rerouted through GoFetch, but even if we could find the source, an injunction against the hacker would be difficult. Not only would we have to one hundred percent prove it’s him, but if the servers are out of the country, the hacker will keep putting up new copies on new servers, and by the time we stop him, well…”

  “My reputation is beyond reparable. Right. Gotcha.”

  Why was no one listening? I already knew this. Dad put a please cease your fire hand on my head; then his expression lit up.

  “As is exceedingly evident today, our daughter’s still a minor. Can’t we go after them on child-pornography charges?”

  Rick shook his head. “Since it isn’t her in the video, what this scumbag has in essence done is created vi
rtual child pornography. While there are strict laws against child pornography, there is First Amendment protection for virtual pornography. In order for us to go after Kyla’s ‘hater’ on child-pornography charges, she’d have to say it is her in the video.”

  “Ew. No way.”

  “Right,” Rick said. “We could go after the hosting website to remove that content or release the user information that posted it with an implied threat to paint them as peddlers of virtual pornography based on real children. First Amendment or not, most organizations won’t want to go quite that far to defend their use of the content.”

  “But it could get reposted the next day, and I already know that the user information doesn’t lead anywhere,” I finished for him.

  Rick tapped a finger against his lips. “I can bring this to the feds at the courthouse in Brooklyn. They might take it on, and they have the resources to slow this down while tracking down the video’s creator. Their offices are probably closed for the next few days, but I’ll still reach out to them if that’s how you want to proceed, though I wouldn’t expect to hear back until after the New Year.”

  “But by then all the admissions deadlines will have passed,” Mom said.

  I bit my tongue. It was already too late for that.

  “Might as well,” my dad sighed.

  “And the source material didn’t get you anywhere?”

  “How do you mean?” I asked.

  “Your hater took the footage of you from somewhere—Woofer, most likely. Finding out who posted the original clip might give you a lead on who the forger was.”

  And now you’ll have to excuse me, because right at that moment, my brain went into all-caps mode.

  OMG. I’M AN IDIOT.

  WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THIS?

  SO BASIC = TOTALLY OVERLOOKED.

  I KNEW IT WAS A WOOFER VIDEO THEY USED AS THE SOURCE MATERIAL! WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF SEARCHING FOR IT?

  A lead. I had a lead. I jumped out of my chair, stuck out my hand. When Rick reached for it, I pulled him into a hug instead.

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Brenner. That was the most enlightening lecture ever.”

  Rick laughed, uncomfortably. My mom shook her head. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Rick had just told me I might figure this out by doing all the things I did best. I needed to do research. I needed to build an argument. Plus, I had something to work with that I hadn’t had in the last three days:

  Hope.

  I txted AnyLies.

  moi Ever tried to watch 1,298 videos of yourself? I don’t recommend it.

  Sounds like something you’d be good at.

  moi I think you have the wrong impression of me. I’m not conceited.

  …

  moi I’m not that conceited.

  …

  moi Well, it’s not my fault. I mean, have you seen me recently?

  UGH. I thought you were trying to convince me not to hate you.

  Smiling, then realizing it was weird that I was smiling, I set my Doc aside and got back to work. After a quick train ride to Brooklyn, with my parents only too happy to be out of my company and back at work, I sequestered myself at a secluded table in a coffee shop at the top of Prospect Park, as was my way when I dove into work mode. I was getting close and I felt something like confident. I was going to logical think the SHT out of this.

  I could do this all day, which was lucky, considering I might have to. I’d swiped sixty-four videos in before I even found a video that was non–Mr. E.–related.

  It was footage that Audra had taken of me and the girls in the Rockaways, prancing around in our bikinis. The sight of so much skin and boobs and, in Fawn’s case, butt crack was horrifying. When Fawn had first posted the video, I’d thought it was adorable. Now, looking at my beautiful friends, I felt ashamed. Like we should have known better, but about what? Enjoying ourselves? Swimming? Having bodies? Kyle was in plenty of similar videos, naked except for his board shorts. But that would never be used against him. It wasn’t fair.

  I untagged myself from the video, then multitasked and txted Sharma to see if she’d do a little digging on Jessie Rosenthal. Like, for instance, did her Brooklyn Public Library account also have borrowing privileges for the New York Public Library?

  sharm Good thinking. Never cracked the library before, will try. Gonna be off Doc for next 30.

  Sharma? Off Doc? Bizarre.

  moi Mkays. Thanks, pookie.

  Me using my hater’s slang? Bizarre times thirty. I took out a Sani-Wipe and swabbed my Doc clean as if that could erase my txt slipup. I needed to relax. My stomach was the size of a pixel. But the more videos I watched of myself, the worse I felt. Did we need to record and keep everything? I txted Audra:

  moi Freaking out about amount of info that’s online about me re vids.

  audy Think you’ve txted the wrong friend. You know my thoughts. Can never be too much info online. All this exposure is good for you.

  Did Audra not remember all those tear-soaked Boobgate-related sleepovers sophomore year? Talk about too much info.

  At the time, Audra was dating Cobi Watkins. He was quiet, a little preppy for Audra’s usual tastes, and a first-year prelaw student at Columbia. When she told us Cobi had asked her to send him naked pics of herself, my stomach did a serpentine twist with unease. I began to wonder aloud if that was the smartest decision, which, might I note, was also what I wondered aloud when Audra said she was dating a college guy to begin with. I mean, he could ask for nude pics all day as far as I was concerned; that didn’t mean she needed to send them, especially not after only a few weeks of dating.

  But Audra did her head toggle and this pitying puckered-lip pout, and it was clear they’d already landed on his Doc. Fawn cheered and said, “Welcome to the club,” and they both generally acted like it was no big deal to send your boyfriend nudies. Until, not even a day later, Cobi forwarded the pics to all his friends. He didn’t do it to be vindictive. It wasn’t like he and Audra had argued or broken up. Titillating and bragging to his friends about his hot girl just rated higher than respecting her.

  “If you didn’t want me to share your whorey pics, then you shouldn’t have sent them.”

  One of Cobi’s friends knew a senior at Park Prep. It wasn’t long before half the boys at Prep had seen her topless. Audra eschewed her tech for a week. She also spray-painted CHILD MOLESTER LIVES HERE across Cobi’s dorm-room door and sent a letter detailing Cobi’s indiscretion to the dean of Columbia, as well as all his professors, and his mother.

  That was Boobgate. I.e., Audra hadn’t been at all laissez-faire back when it was her body being fully exposed. And the pics hadn’t even claimed the top spot on her profile for longer than a few weeks. But I stayed my fingers.

  Audy was right. I should have txted Fawn. I immediately rectified my mistake and forwarded Fawnie the original message. She’d be more sympathetic.

  audy BESIDES, nobody looks at every single vid in a person’s cache. It’d take days.

  As I waited for Fawn to txt back, I replied:

  moi I guess that makes me feel better? Xmas Eve movie date night?

  audy Can’t. Gonna meet Sharma in a couple then got other Xmas Eve plans. Xoxoxo

  Wait. What plans? I thought we weren’t celebrating Christmas this year. So what were she and Sharma doing that I wasn’t invited to? Plus, I thought Sharma was off Doc. And why the H-double-L wasn’t Fawnie txting back? Whoa there, Kyle, I told myself. No need to go all paranoid. And yet, if this was my friends being supportive, this blank-faced emote was me being underwhelmed.

  I swiped back to my ConnectBook, to the first ten Woofer videos that had nothing to do with the Mr. E. sex vid. The second Woofer was of three Park Prep girls. They were in the cafeteria, talking about a mustard/mayo preference. The person recording them must have gotten bored, because she panned from her friends and zoomed in on my lunch table. Or rather, she zoomed in on me. I reached over the back of my chair to pick up a dropped sandwich eco-bagg
ie. My hair fell forward, curtaining my face. As I sat back up, I flipped my hair.

  “Oh my gosh.”

  It was like the person who took the video, focusing in on me like that, knew exactly what she would use it for. She didn’t even use a fake moniker. It couldn’t be any clearer: the poster was @EllieCyr.

  Stay calm.

  Everyone had access to these videos. It could be a total coincidence that my stalker had pulled footage from one that Ellie made, if that was even the clip. The angle seemed mostly right, but it would be nearly impossible to blend my hair into the Mr. E. video like that, and, let’s be honest, I wasn’t unknown for flipping my hair. But ten seconds before the clip ended, I smiled exactly as I did at the end of the Mr. E. video.

  My chair screeched on the white tile as I pushed it backwards. Without a doubt, it was the source video and it was filmed by Ellie. Who was suddenly friends with Jessie. I hurried to the entrance. Sharma was powered down for thirty minutes, so I txted Audra instead because she was the last person in my txt thread.

  moi Finished watching vids. When you see Sharma tell her the Woofer vid is from Ellie’s account. Gonna try and get to bottom of this Ellie & Jessie friendship. Regardless, finally have proof it’s not me!!!!!

  I waited for a reply, but none came. Her txt line spooled for a moment. Then her avatar went red.

  In retrospect, my next move wasn’t the brightest. I should have called my mom or tried to get ahold of the lawyer or at least waited until Sharma and I could do more digging, but I wanted it to be over. So I took a shortcut. Still, I’ll blame Brittany Mulligan for what happened next. If she hadn’t ousted me from Community Club, I would have been dressed as Mrs. Claus right then, inadvisably leading off-key Christmas carols.

  Instead I thought I’d won.

  Ellie was changing out of her school clothes and into her gym clothes when I found her in the YMCA locker room on Ninth Street thirty minutes later. (Though why bother? Both outfits involved sweatpants.) Even if I hadn’t downloaded the WhereYouAt app that Caleb had told us about and cyberstalked her, I’d have known where to look for Ellie. If she wasn’t at basketball practice, Ellie was always at the Y working out. I’m sure it partially had to do with her court game, but every Park Prepper knew her parents were going through a nasty divorce, trying to gain custody of their brownstone while still both residing in said brownstone. The divorce was Ellie’s mom’s second. Rumor had it, Ellie’s stepdad was the parent she liked better.