These Deadly Games(41)
Zoey nodded. “I agree.”
Randall laughed. “You guys are being ridonculous.” Akira cringed, looking hurt.
“Randall, this isn’t funny,” I snapped. “They’re insinuating the reason you’re together … well, they basically accused you of fetishizing Akira.” Akira nodded.
Randall tilted his head, rereading the comment. “You mean, because…”
Akira raised her chin. “Because you’re white and I’m Japanese American, yeah. It’s gross.”
“It’s fucking racist,” said Zoey.
“Yep,” said Akira. I clasped her hand, wishing she didn’t have to read that horrible comment, wishing I could reach through my screen and flip off whoever left it.
“Oh, shit.” A regretful look crossed Randall’s face. Steeped in his own privilege, he hadn’t even spotted it. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s…” Akira started, like she was going to say, It’s fine.
But it wasn’t.
Randall tentatively rolled his chair closer. “Can I…?” He held out his arms. Akira nodded, and he gave her a long hug. “I love you for you,” he murmured into her hair.
“I know,” she said. They finally broke apart at the shutter sound of Zoey screenshotting the comment.
“Is there any way to track down this asshole?” I asked once Randall rolled his chair back over.
“I dunno,” he said. “I don’t think so.”
Matty nudged Randall’s shoulder. “Can you see a commenter’s IP address on Twitch? Or YouTube?”
“Nope,” said Randall. “If it was a comment on a blog we hosted or something, sure. But we’d never get that info from Google or Twitch. Not unless we were, like, the FBI.”
“Even if you could,” said Dylan, “the troll could be using a VPN to hide their location. They could make it look like they’re in another country—”
“Oh!” Zoey’s eyes lit up. “I have an idea…” Without another word, she slammed her laptop shut and raced home.
The next day, she showed us a widget she’d coded. “It’s real simple. You just upload two photos, and the widget embeds code in each one that’ll register the user’s IP address wherever it loads. We’ll send one photo link to the troll, and one to people we think it might be. If someone’s IP matches the troll’s, we’ll know it’s them.”
Dylan raised his eyebrows. “Even if they’re using a VPN.”
“Exactly,” said Zoey. “The IP addresses would still match.”
“Nice,” said Dylan, clearly impressed. Something funny lodged in my throat. But then his eyes flicked to me. “Twenty bucks?”
I gave him a tight-lipped grin, ignoring my wobbly gut. “You’re on.”
We compiled a list of classmates who might have a grudge against us—people like Dave Wisla, the quarterback who’d flipped out when Randall imitated him strutting down the hall; Lucia Ramirez, who I’d humiliated at our esports team tryouts; Maddy Curtis, who’d been dejected after asking Matty to Homecoming. We split the list among us, and each sent emails asking for help on our homework with a link to a screenshot of the assignment. Randall DMed the troll a link to a picture of his middle finger.
Our jaws collectively dropped when Lucia’s IP matched the troll’s. And I was twenty bucks richer.
Akira understandably didn’t want to come with Zoey and me when we cornered Lucia at her locker the next day (let’s be real—Zoey did all the talking). But Lucia denied everything. I figured confronting her would be enough to stop her from trolling us again, even if she didn’t fess up and apologize. And as furious as I was, guilt soured my stomach. I’d been a bitch to Lucia at tryouts. This was, in a way, my fault.
But then Zoey snarled at Lucia, “I have receipts. I screenshotted all of it, and I have proof the comments came from your IP. I’ll put it all online and make sure it ranks first on Google for your name. It won’t just be everyone at school who’ll see what you did. Colleges will see it. Future employers will see it. Everyone will know you’re a troll, and it’ll follow you around forever.” For a moment, Lucia’s wide, panicked eyes met mine, like maybe I’d step in, be a voice of reason—but her expression hardened as she likely remembered I’d started this. And as shocked as I was by Zoey’s rancor, I wouldn’t challenge her in front of Lucia. Protecting our friends mattered most. So I stood by Zoey’s side and let her threaten Lucia.
Later, I did manage to talk Zoey down. But the unresolved conflict hovered over us like a swarm of starving mosquitoes. Lucia started being extra nice to us, even inviting us to her party, likely terrified we’d forever destroy her reputation at any moment. We’d gone to scope out the scene—we didn’t exactly party much—but none of us spoke to her save for our little spat on my way out the door. The tension was palpable. Sometimes I wondered if we should’ve just deleted and blocked like Randall wanted to. But we’d flicked a domino, and now the pieces were falling.
* * *
“Would Lucia really try to pick us off, though?” said Dylan. Akira eyed Sanchez across the waiting room, like she wanted to run this theory by him.