Aftermath(55)

“Okay, so we’re looking at a hack. I wasn’t accusing you, Tiffany. I’m sorry if it sounded like I was.”

She doesn’t seem to hear him, just ushers us inside.

“I don’t know what happened,” I say. “I published the right version. I have the test copy in my inbox. I also checked the link when it went live.”

“Let’s just get it down.”

She logs onto the computer. Jesse stands behind her, saying, “Do you use your school log-in? Or is it a different one for the newspaper?”

She doesn’t answer.

“It’s different,” I say.

“And do you each have unique log-ins? Or is it universal?”

“It’s one to get on this computer and another for the publishing service. Both are used by everyone.”

“Okay, so it’s a two-step process with separate universal log-ins. And the paper can only be published from here, but —”

Tiffany cuts in. “This is the newspaper office, Skye. We’ve just had a serious security breach. I don’t need someone hanging over my shoulder asking questions.”

“He’s figuring out how someone hacked in and published that version of the newspaper,” I say. “He knows this stuff. I don’t.”

She glances over at him. “You know how to hack, Jesse? Huh. That’s interesting… considering we just had a hack. One that is going to make life a whole lot worse for Skye. I’ve heard you have a problem with her being at RivCol.”

“Then you’ve heard wrong,” he says evenly. “I was caught off guard when she enrolled, and I’ve apologized for that. I’m sorry if I was distracting you. Getting that video taken down is the important thing right now. I’ll ask questions later.”

“It’s down,” she says after a few more keystrokes. “I’ve pulled the newspaper and deleted the video clip.”

I check the link on my phone. Jesse does the same on his and nods.

“I’ll get the real paper up,” Tiffany says. “If I can do it fast, that proves we had another version.”

She’s flipping through the directory, saying, “The only version I see here is the one that was published.”

“Then someone erased the original,” Jesse says.

Tiffany says nothing. She’s typing when Mr. Vaughn walks in.

“Skye?” He seems surprised to see me there. “I heard there was an… incident. With the paper.”

“It’s fixed,” Tiffany says. “Someone replaced the lead story with a fake one.”

“Allegedly written by me,” I say. “A very disturbing article that is going to have serious consequences for me at RivCol. Which is why I’m going to ask for a full investigation.”

He looks from me to Tiffany to Jesse and then back, and I know what’s coming. He’s going to say as long as it’s been fixed, we can just ignore it. No harm. No foul.

I’m preparing my argument when he opens his mouth and says, “I agree. I’d like you to wait in my office, Miss Gilchrist, while I speak to Miss Gold.”

Skye

While we wait in Mr. Vaughn’s office, Jesse asks me questions and takes notes about the newspaper publication system. I don’t know how much of that is simply busywork. I don’t care. I need to be busy.

A full hour passes before the door opens. Mr. Vaughn steps inside and sees Jesse. “I don’t believe I asked you to join us, Mr. Mandal.”

“Oh?” Jesse says. “My mistake.”

Mr. Vaughn stands in the open doorway, waiting for Jesse to leave. Jesse just pushes his notes forward and says, “I’ve been working out possible explanations for what happened. The newspaper might be a closed system, but it publishes via the Web, which means someone could hack in. You need an expert to assess incoming transmissions.”

“There were no incoming transmissions. Mr. Dennis has confirmed that.”

“Dennis? There’s a reason I stopped taking comp-sci when I transferred here. Dennis hasn’t coded since Windows 1.0.”

“Mr. Dennis is an accredited computer expert —”

“The only thing he’s an expert in is the power-off power-on method of troubleshooting.”

“I’m not a fan of this newfound sarcasm, Mr. Mandal. Perhaps you ought to rethink your current circle of associates.”

“I wish I was being sarcastic. Do you know what Dennis uses as his password? ‘Password.’ Kids log into his account when they want to surf porn sites. If you don’t believe me, check his account history. Dennis babysits the lab and teaches courses he’s not qualified to take. Which means you can’t trust any assessment he gives.”

“I suppose you’re offering to do that assessment for me, Mr. Mandal.”

“No, I’m telling you to get an expert. An outside opinion. I’m neither. Also, my name is either Jesse or Jasser. Mr. Mandal is my dad, and calling me that isn’t respectful – it’s patronizing.”

I cut in with, “I don’t know what you think I’d hope to accomplish, sir, by setting the fire or writing that article.”

He unlocks a drawer on his desk and takes out a folder. Inside, he’s printed my record. For easy access, it seems. He opens it and says, “Page one. Kindergarten. A pair of boy’s underwear was found hanging from the classroom flagpole. You accepted blame.” He looks at me. “Readily accepted blame.”