Point Horror: Identity Theft Part 2

Back then, I'd ran out of the house, gotten on my bike, and gone to Adam's. He was the one who had managed to trace the IP address. The next morning, I'd taken down my Facebook, blocked my e-mail, and gradually scrubbed away any personality from my Internet presence.

I'd never let Keely see how much it bothered me. That would have given her satisfaction. Instead, I'd reinvented myself. I'd gotten rid of my brightly colored camisoles and skinny jeans. I'd ripped the pictures from my bulletin board. Even my handwriting had changed, from bubbly, oversized script often written in purple ink to small, neat print.

No one knew that I was vulnerable - except Adam. He'd been the only one to see me cry. The next day, I'd gone to school and ignored the comments flying around me. Eventually, they'd died down - but the anger and hurt hadn't. I'd never be seen as normal. I'd always be a grade-grubbing freak that no guy would admit to liking - even if, by some miracle, they did.

I grabbed my phone from my bag, hating that Adam was the first person in my address book. I hated him. I wanted him to be expelled. To have to move somewhere where I'd never, ever see him again.

He answered on the first ring. "Hayley, what's up?"

"You know exactly what's up," I said in a low voice.

"I have many talents, but mind reading isn't one of them. At least, not yet," Adam drawled. "What do you need? Help with Osborn's homework?"

"I'm not talking about this on the phone. Meet me at the Ugly Mug in half an hour," I demanded, my voice shaking.

"Wait, what?" Adam asked. "I'm doing homework. Can we talk tomorrow?"

"No!" I exploded. "You have to talk to me tonight. I know what you did, and you need to fix it. Or else I'm calling the police. It's hara.s.sment, you know. It's not funny."

"Hayley, what are you talking about? I haven't hara.s.sed you. I haven't talked to you all freaking summer."

"Stop it!" I screeched. "Just shut up and listen. It's not a joke, and I need to talk to you. Now."

"I know you're not kidding, I just don't know what you're talking about. And I don't know why you're yelling at me."

"Will I see you at the Ugly Mug?" I asked, trying to contain the hysteria in my voice.

"Yes. Fine. Ugly Mug, half an hour, full-on Hayley freak-out. Can't wait," he said sarcastically.

I didn't bother responding. I hung up, slammed my laptop closed, and ran down the stairs.

"Heading to town to study!" I yelled. But it didn't matter. Mom and Geoff had already left for dinner.

I made it to the Ugly Mug in record time. I gazed around. No Adam. Just Percy, a philosophy-major barista, a few lone students wearing oversized headphones, and a couple in the corner feeding each other forkfuls of chocolate cake.

"What's up, Hayley?" Percy asked, leaning on the counter.

"Nothing," I said shortly. The clock above the door read seven twenty-five. If Adam wasn't here by seven thirty, I was going to call the police. Which meant I had four and a half minutes to figure out how to explain to the Bainbridge police department why a fake Facebook profile was a legitimate emergency.

"Want the usual?" Percy asked companionably, already turning to the espresso machine.

"Sure." I was way too keyed up for coffee, much less the double-shot latte Percy was whipping up, but I knew if I said no, he'd ask questions, and questions were the last thing I wanted right now. I perched on the edge of a moth-eaten purple velvet loveseat in the back of the shop. Who the h.e.l.l did Adam think he was, and didn't he know that I was smarter than that? I couldn't believe he thought it'd be so easy to take me down.

The front door opened. As soon as I saw Adam, clad in his Varsity Debate jacket, I wanted to snap, run toward him, and claw his eyes out. How the h.e.l.l could a guy who thought a Varsity Debate jacket was a remotely appropriate fas.h.i.+on choice even dare try to sabotage me?

"Over here," I called sharply, annoyed as I said it.

Adam nodded at me, then headed up to the counter to order.

"Not now," I growled.

Adam walked toward me. "Seriously, you're not even letting me get coffee? Okay, this is way more serious than I thought." His voice was jokey, but his brow was furrowed in concern. "What's up?" He didn't bother to sit down.

"You know," I said, struggling to maintain an even tone of voice as I looked into his eyes. I could vaguely make out my reflection in his gla.s.ses, and I tried to appear calmer. If he saw I was upset, then he'd win. "The Facebook page."

Confusion crossed his face as he peered down at me. "Is that what you wanted to tell me? That you finally joined the twenty-first century? Well, congratulations, and I'll be sure to not friend you, so you won't scream at me for hara.s.sment."

"No." I stood up so I could look him in the eye. "The. Fake. Facebook. Page. That. You. Made. To Sabotage. Me," I said through clenched teeth.

"Hayley, what are you talking about? I don't have time for this."

"You think I do?" I practically shrieked. Percy, who was walking toward us with my latte, paused midstep.

I lowered my voice. "Look." I pulled out my laptop and logged on to the site. "I found it, Adam."

Adam grabbed my computer as Percy hurriedly made his way to our table and practically threw my latte in front of me. I took a large gulp, feeling even more anger when the liquid burned the roof of my mouth.

"I didn't make that. And it's not even you." Adam shook his head and pa.s.sed the laptop toward me.

"What do you mean?" I'd expected him to deny that he'd made the page, but not deny that it was me. "Who else would it be?"

"Well, you're not exactly the Queen of Frat Parties, are you? It could mean someone did a decent Photoshop job. They might have found an image of a girl who looked similar to you and morphed some features together."

"Is that possible?" I asked in a small voice, beginning to doubt my suspicions.

"I don't know," Adam admitted. "But I didn't do it, Hayley. I'd never cheat my way into something. Look, I want to win the Ainsworth. So do you. But we've always been pretty decent about separating friends.h.i.+p and compet.i.tion, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but ..." I trailed off as I realized that I'd wanted it to have been him.

Adam sighed. "Then it's going to be a really long year for you."

I narrowed my eyes. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Hayley, listen, you're under a ton of stress. I get it. So am I. But you can't let everything get under your skin. I mean, this sucks, but I didn't do it. And it's just a stupid prank. You need perspective. It's not like a million people are Googling you."

I stared at him. Was he kidding? "The Ainsworth committee is," I said flatly.

Recognition dawned on his face. "You think someone's trying to sabotage you?"

"Yes!" I snapped. I didn't want to be here anymore, playing amateur detective.

"Hayley." Adam's voice was firm. He reached toward my hand. I yanked it away.

"Sorry." Adam let his hand fall into his lap. "Hayley, look at me."

"What?" I asked flatly.

"I know you probably think I did this to win the Ainsworth. And I don't know what I can say to make you believe me, except I didn't do it. I'd never hurt you. I know we have fun being compet.i.tive, but I wouldn't ... I wouldn't ..." He trailed off.

"It's fine." I squeezed my eyes shut to stop tears from falling. I wasn't crying at what Adam said. But I wanted to cry because even if he didn't do it, the fact remained that someone did. Someone hated me enough to sabotage me.

Adam looked at me quizzically. "It's not fine."

"No," I agreed. "But there's nothing you can do about it." I stared at the coffee-ringed table. If I looked at him, I'd lose it, and that would give him even more of an upper hand than he already had. And the thing I hated most of all was the realization that no one would have done this to him. He didn't have a ton of friends, but he wasn't actively disliked the way I seemed to be. And I didn't need him feeling sorry for me.

"I can at least sit with you until you stop doing that shaky-hand thing," he said.

I squeezed my hands together, realizing it looked like I was praying. I slid them into my pockets, instead. "I'm fine. Freaking amazing. Je suis tres bien," I practically shouted, realizing that my slipping into French meant I was seriously losing it.

Adam's eyes widened. "Whoa, Hayley, don't freak. It's fine. It's just some joke that got out of hand. Bet you anything that it'll be taken down as soon as you tell Klish. It seems like the only people who've even seen it are Keely and her clique. I doubt the Ainsworth committee is doing any recon right now. I mean, no offense, but you don't even know if you're a finalist. I don't even know if I'm a finalist."

"I know. But ..."

"Listen, if you want, I can hack into Keely's e-mail and see if I find anything. I bet you anything her pa.s.sword is spray tan."

"Do you think she did it?" I asked, ignoring Adam's joke. I thought back to her comment this morning. Even the losers are joining Facebook. Had that been a dig at me, one so subtle I hadn't even caught it? Probably.

"She could have. But it could also have been someone from that debate camp you went to. Did you talk to them about the Ainsworth?"

Fury shot through my body and I clutched my knees to keep from reaching up and strangling Adam. "Really? Do you really think that I'm running around, bragging to everyone? I'm just trying to be the best I can be, and no one will leave me alone." My voice had taken on a high-pitched, hysterical quality. "Even Jess is trying to sabotage me."

"Really?" Adam wrinkled his nose.

"What?"

"She doesn't seem to be the sabotage type, is all." Adam shrugged and I remembered that they'd worked on a physics project together last fall.

"Maybe not to you. But maybe she did it. She tried to get me kicked off the editorial board of Yearbook."

Adam shook his head. "This has Keely written all over it. Jess plays by the rules. She was p.i.s.sed that you were EIC of Yearbook and Newspaper, so she went to Klish. Keely's just ..."

"Just what?"

"Being Keely. Unless you think there's someone else who might be mad at you."

"So you think I just have a million enemies running around New Hamps.h.i.+re?" I asked flatly.

"No, Hayley, I'm just saying that sometimes you can be ..."

"What?" I challenged.

"Intense." Adam nodded toward the latte I was holding in my hand. "Like, right now, you're holding your coffee like you're gonna throw it at someone. You can be intimidating, and that att.i.tude might rub people the wrong way. If they don't know you."

"And you can be an idiot," I retorted, taking a large sip of my latte so he couldn't tell how much he'd hurt me. It was one thing for Keely to think of me as an intense, intimidating weirdo, but it stung coming from Adam. "Anyway, I'm sure you're right. It's just a prank and I'll discuss it with Klish tomorrow. Thank you." I grabbed my bag from beside me, as if I were running late to a very important appointment, which both Adam and I knew was a lie.

Adam stood up. "Right." He s.h.i.+fted from foot to foot, standing over me as if he expected me to say something else. "Well, good luck with everything. And if you need anyone ..." he trailed off.

I didn't bother to watch him leave. Instead, I stared at the screen when I noticed a response to the latest wall post alert. It was from Keely.

G.o.d, Hayley, if you're actually willing to be normal, then ...

"Then what?" I said out loud. A girl in the corner, furiously highlighting a textbook, glared at me.

I angrily slammed my laptop shut and made my way out of the Ugly Mug. I still had a ton of work to do. I had a problem set due for Calc. I needed to read through Act II of Macbeth. I needed an actual agenda for the Yearbook meeting so it wouldn't dissolve into a free-for-all discussion like last time. I had a French conversation topic to prepare, and I should be making cookies for the next Key Club bake sale. But Facebook - which I didn't even belong to for the very reason that it was a total time waster - had ruined all of that for me.

I headed into the still-empty house, crept upstairs, and crawled under the duvet, not bothering to wash my face or brush my teeth. I remembered an article I'd read about the secret to success in some hippie magazine my mom had left lying around. Most of it was about channeling your inner G.o.ddess and making a vision board, but one piece of advice had stuck with me. It said that the biggest mistake you could make in a crisis was to do something immediately. Sometimes, you need your spirit guides to bring you to a decision in your dreams! And while I didn't think spirit guides could help me any more than Adam Scott could, I wondered if it might be best to just fall asleep and figure everything out in the morning.

Not like I could fall asleep. My mind felt mushy, like over-cooked oatmeal, and I couldn't focus on anything besides the pattern of the shadows of branches on the wall. In the distance, I heard an owl hooting. These sounds normally calmed me down. But now, they only made me feel more jumpy.

I crossed the room to my DVD collection and scanned the t.i.tles: Sleepless in Seattle. No. Valentine's Day. No. Mean Girls. That sounded about right. I pulled the disc from the box and pushed it into the DVD player, allowing myself to get lost in the familiar storyline. But now, the plot, about how girls try to plan revenge on one another, just hit too close to home. I turned off the DVD player and slid back under the covers.

I couldn't get the eyes from the photo out of my mind. Silvery and s.h.i.+ny, like the underside of a fish caught from a pond, my eyes had always been my trademark, the one thing I really liked about the way I looked. But now, they didn't feel like mine. And now, even though the photo was just an encrypted piece of data lying dormant on my laptop, I imagined the identical eyes, the ones from the picture, watching me.

Toss. I thought of the picture of her and the guy. She was smiling, but she didn't look like she was having fun. Rather, she looked as though she knew some secret.

Turn. I turned my pillow to the fresh side.

This was ridiculous. There was no way I could sleep.

Instead, I pulled up my laptop and opened Word. Agenda for Yearbook Meeting, I began. No matter what, at least I always had work.

Hayley?"

I woke up to sun dappling my ancient pink-and-purple-striped comforter.

"What?" I blinked, disoriented. I'd fallen asleep on top of my laptop, and one of the keys had indented itself on my cheek. Since my contacts were still in, my eyes felt dry and sandy, and it hurt to blink. I looked at the screen, where I'd fallen asleep midway through my memo writing, the Facebook page still pulled up.

And everything came flooding back.

"Hi." I struggled to sit up.

"Hayley bunny, are you all right?" Mom perched on the side of my bed and peered at my computer.

"Don't do that!" I shrieked, my voice rising. I didn't want her to see the pictures on the profile. It would just make her worry, and that would make me worry, and all the Advil in the world wouldn't stop that headache.

Mom pulled back. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I was just concerned. I was about to leave when I saw your car in the driveway. Are you sick?"

I shook my head. "What time is it?" I croaked. My throat was sore, and I'd have given anything to just crawl back under the covers and hope everything had been a bad dream.

"Eight."

"Eight? Why didn't you wake me up?" I'd already missed Yearbook and Calc. Not only that, but if Kelsey, Emily, or Ingrid knew about the profile - which they did, since their comments were all over the wall, then everyone did. And I hadn't even been there to do damage control.

"You look a little feverish." Mom held the back of her hand to my forehead. I swatted her away.

"I'm fine. I just have to go. And you need to go to work, Mom." The Sound and the Story opened at eight, and even though I was pretty sure that no one in Bainbridge was seeking their used copies of James Joyce quite that early, I did need her to leave me alone.

"All right. But if you're sick ..." Mom said uncertainly, concern evident in her large blue eyes.