Internet Famous Read online

  “Goddamnit!” Madi sighed. “I messed it up when I got rid of the comments.”

  Near midnight, she headed downstairs to eat. Afterward, she filled the dishwasher and washed the counters, needing something to distract her. When she finally came back upstairs, it was nearly one in the morning. Madi’s breath caught as she logged into her laptop.

  Four messages waited in her inbox.

  The first was from her mother, telling her that she and Madi’s father had spoken at length about Madi’s plan to take a year off from school, and that she supported the decision. The second was a random e-mail inviting Madi to do a talk at New York Comic Con, as part of their online ventures community. The third was from Ava. Madi clicked OPEN with trembling fingers.

  NEW Message, [email protected]: 12:08 a.m. EST

  Priority: HIGH

  Subject: RE: Need your HELP

  Hey Madi,

  Ran a few years of MadLibs comments and posts through the Wayback online database. (Figured you’d probably deleted the comments, but they might be there.) Turns out they were. Got a pile of them, then filtered it through a metadata collator my friend C used for his grad research. Here are a few interesting phrases that popped up:

  It just pisses me off that fandom doesn’t welcome men the way they do women … Believe me, Millburn’s in the middle of nowhere!… It’s the fault of all those feminazi campaigners!… I hate it! Can’t wait to get out!… And that’s where I have to call bullshit. Absolutely NO. Stories like this are half the problem with society. All lies!… Screw friends falling in love. Keith deserved better … As one of “those guys” hanging out and watching from the sidelines, I’m just saying this movie SUCKED … It’s the fault of those damned SJWs! Hate them!

  No idea who your troll is. The names he uses are random, but metadata says it’s the same source. (I just sent the data to Brian, too. He might be able to track down your poster.) Hope that helps. I attached the link with the full document HERE.

  —Ava

  Shaky with adrenaline, Madi opened the next e-mail, from Brian.

  NEW Message, [email protected]: 12:21 a.m. EST

  Priority: HIGH

  Subject: RE: Need your HELP

  Madi,

  Just got some information from Ava, which I collated with the data sources I’d located. I’ve got your troll. It’s @fandometric. He’s been hiding in plain sight:

  Tweet from a few weeks ago: @fandometric: @MadLib Feel free to vent. We’re all here for you.

  Tweet from the last post: @fandometric: @ArtWithAttitude It’s the fault of those damned SJWs! Hate them!

  “SJW!” Madi gasped. “That’s what the troll called me in his e-mails.” She tried to imagine all the people who’d gone to school with her through the years. She wasn’t close friends with anyone, but she couldn’t think of anyone who’d have reason to hate her, either. No clear enemies. An image of a black-haired boy with angry eyes floated to mind.

  “Except for Robbie’s rude friend Gavin…”

  Worried, she returned to Brian’s e-mail.

  I ran the flagged posts through a couple tracking programs. No go. The troll’s using Tor (or something like it) to block his IP address. But then I sent the info to a buddy of mine who uses Tor and a few other *special* programming tools. (Please don’t ask, all right? And you can’t tell the police who sent you this.) My friend was able to use a couple of his sources to locate the origin. You’ve got two main suspects:

  1) Gavin Alhorn, Millburn, NJ.

  2) Robert Sullivan, Millburn, NJ.

  There’s no way I can tell you how I got those names, so you’ll need to catch them in the act.

  Let me know if I can help.

  —Brian

  Madi stared at the screen. Robbie or Gavin. All she needed was proof and she could go to the police.

  It was time to lure the troll out of his cave.

  *   *   *

  “Gavin Alhorn?” Sarah repeated.

  “Yes, Gavin. He’s Robbie’s friend,” Madi said. “Black hair. Angry. I’ve seen him around the school a couple times. He pushed between us the day you went to the library for the study group.”

  “What about Gavin?”

  “I think he’s the troll, but I’m not certain. I need to double-check before I confront him about it.”

  Sarah frowned. “So what’re you going to do?”

  “I need to talk to him. But it can’t be too obvious.” Madi ran her fingers through her hair. “God! Why is it always so much easier to be a detective in the movies?”

  “I know how you can talk to him.”

  Madi dropped her hands to her side. “How?”

  “He games with Robbie. I can invite us along.”

  “You think Robbie will say yes? I mean, if Gavin’s his friend and all.”

  Sarah gave her a level stare. “Robbie likes you, Madi. I’m sure he’ll say yes the second I tell him you’re coming.”

  Madi rubbed her sweating hands on the sides of her jeans. “Yeah … I guess that’ll work. I just need to talk to Gavin, that’s all.”

  Sarah nodded. “Give me a minute. I’ll text Robbie.”

  *   *   *

  Robbie’s house wasn’t just a house—it was the upper floor of the ancestral Colonial Inn where Madi and Sarah had played as children. Robbie’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan, were the proprietors. Arriving, the memories of walking along the beach with Laurent flashed to mind. For a second, Madi considered sending Laurent a Snapsed of the ruins where he’d tried to convince her to climb to the top, but she held back. She’d screwed the relationship up by her own actions; the least she could do was respect his decision to move on.

  “You coming, Madi?” Sarah called from the front door.

  She slipped her phone back in her pocket without taking a photo.

  Robbie’s mother was bubbly and smiling, the perfect made-for-TV mother if Madi had ever seen one. She bustled the two of them upstairs to the family’s suite with a shout of “Come on down for cookies in half an hour, kids!”

  Madi glanced over at Sarah and raised her eyebrows.

  “Parents are weird,” Sarah grumbled.

  The door opened before Madi could answer. Robbie was there—his damp hair looking more brown than red. Madi wished that he liked her sister rather than her. He genuinely seemed nice, and Sarah had so few friends.

  “C’mon in,” he said, heading inside. “I’ve got the gaming system in my room.”

  Sarah followed, Madi two steps behind as she drew in details from the cozy apartment. There were bowls of potpourri on tables, an open “look book” of Robbie as a baby next to the couch. The furniture was antique but polished to a sheen, and black-and-white photographs of the ruins in matching frames covered the walls. It all looked like it had been taken out of a design magazine.

  “You coming?” Robbie called.

  “Right, sorry! Just looking around,” Madi said, embarrassed. “It’s a beautiful home, Robbie.”

  “It’s all right, I guess.” He swung the door open and stepped inside. “Just sucks having guests around all the time.”

  Robbie’s room was the antithesis of his mother’s homey decorating style. Clothes lay in piles in the corners, the bed unmade. The distinct scent of body odor hung heavy in the air, choking Madi.

  “You are a slob, Robbie,” Sarah announced. “This room is filthy.”

  “Sarah!” Madi gasped.

  Robbie just laughed. “My room, my rules.” Sarah took a seat on the floor at the end of the bed, and Robbie tossed a controller into her hands. “Here, let’s play.”

  Madi tried to find a clean place to sit, but the options were limited. She finally opted for the chair next to Robbie’s computer desk. The laptop was chugging away on a download, and she slid it carefully out of her way.

  “Here you go, Madi,” he said, handing her a controller with a grin and settling himself down in front of the TV.

  “
Um … wasn’t your friend supposed to be joining us?” Madi asked.

  “Who, Gavin? Nah. He canceled at the last second.”

  Madi’s face fell in disappointment. “He did?”

  “Uh-huh. His computer got hacked last night. He’s reprogramming his firewall and trying to recover the files he lost.” Robbie turned on the game, and the basement of an underground lab appeared. “All right, then—let’s play!”

  The home screen started up with a roar of music.

  “What’re we playing?” Madi asked, getting herself into position.

  “Zombie Death Squad 3,” Sarah said.

  Madi shrugged. “Never heard of it.”

  Robbie took position at the front. “The premise is that we’re stuck in an abandoned fallout shelter far below the surface of Earth, a year after a biological war. There are air shafts that reach the ground, but they’re a maze.”

  “The point of the game is to get out,” Sarah explained. “Just keep moving up.”

  “Except when you have to move down to avoid certain death,” Robbie added.

  On-screen, the characters inside one of the white-walled rooms began to scream, their eyes turning black, skin sinking corpselike around their eyes. The roar of the music grew louder.

  Madi gave a nervous laugh. “Well, that’s not good.”

  “Nope,” Robbie said. “Because some of the air vents are laced with the zombie virus, and that means…” On-screen, the countdown began. “We’ve got to get moving. There are other teams playing the undead. We’re survivors. Move!”

  For the next ten minutes, the trio dodged and moved through the maze, Madi’s admittedly poor gaming skills left Robbie and Sarah in several compromised positions. Madi’s giggles grew into panicked laughter as she lodged her character in the corner of a storage room.

  “Wait!” she shouted. “I’m stuck! I can’t get out!”

  Sarah disengaged from the zombie she’d been fighting to help her sister. Madi’s avatar moved in the same direction over and over again, slamming its face into the metal cupboards.

  “Back up!” Robbie ordered. “You’re going the wrong way.”

  Another undead lurched into view.

  “HOW?! I can’t seem to move my legs.”

  “You deal with Madi,” Sarah said. “I’ll take out the trash.” She headed into the engagement.

  “The green button,” Robbie snapped. “No, not that one. The other one!”

  “Hurry up, guys,” Sarah warned. “I can’t keep this up all day.”

  “C’mon, Madi! Get with it! You’re killing us here!”

  But Madi was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. She finally spun her character around. “I’m out!” she shouted. “We need to—”

  The cupboard burst open, two zombies appearing out of nowhere.

  “Run!” Madi screamed. “Save yourself! I will sacrifice myself for you!” And she awkwardly two-stepped her avatar directly into the path of the attackers.

  Robbie made a hissing sound. “Fuck! I’m out.” He dropped the controller to the floor and stood. “Don’t think I’ve ever gotten a score so low.”

  “Relax,” Madi said. “It’s just a game.”

  “You made me lose!”

  Madi’s laughter faded uncertainly. “Geez, Robbie. I didn’t think you were so—”

  “I should’ve known better than to let you play!”

  “Leave her alone,” Sarah said. Her face had gone white except for two bright red blotches of color on her cheeks.

  “So what? You’re gonna defend her?”

  “Madi’s never played this game before; she didn’t know how to—”

  “Figures you’d take her side. SJWs are all the same!”

  Madi’s heart began to pound so fast she felt dizzy. SJW. That was the troll’s taunt.

  “I’m outta here,” Robbie said as he stalked from the room.

  Madi stared at the closed door. She knew Robbie. He’d been in her freshman classes. He was smart, nice … funny, even. He tutored for Wattley’s class and had invited her to hang out at the library when he’d been helping Sarah. He always seemed nice … until he didn’t.

  Sarah’s words rose in Madi’s mind: “Robbie only asked me to go to the movie because he likes you.…”

  The realization slammed into the center of Madi’s chest. Robbie’s interest had developed in the background of her all-too-stressful real life the last few weeks. His attraction to her had been a fact Madi had grown aware of, but ignored. She’d never once considered that he might be there—online—too. Under the guise of @fandometric, Robbie could have watched her for months! He would have seen Madi’s online romance with Laurent, and when his offline attentions had been rejected, his frustration would have turned into anger.

  Robbie had trolled Madi out of jealousy, punishing her for choosing Laurent rather than him.

  She swallowed hard, other details falling into place. The troll’s knowledge of Madi’s New York trip was the one element that had never made complete sense, but now did. His words ran through her mind: “It’s a small group, mostly one-on-one review.…” Robbie and Sarah talked during the tutoring sessions he ran. He easily could have found out about Madi’s comings and goings since Sarah was known to overshare. And since Robbie lived at the Colonial Inn, it would have been easy enough for him to take photos from the veranda without being seen. He’d probably heard Laurent call her minette.

  “H-he’s the one,” Madi whispered.

  “He’s what?”

  “Robbie’s the troll. He’s fandometric! He’s the person who’s been harassing me.”

  “He is?”

  “Yes!”

  Sarah’s eyes widened until they looked like they were going to pop from her head. “What do we do?”

  “The police need proof,” Madi said. “I…” She turned to the laptop on the desk next to her. “I need to check to be sure.”

  “But you can’t just go on his computer! That’s illegal!”

  “I have to, Sarah!”

  Her sister began to pace the clothes-strewn room. “I don’t know, Madi. It’s wrong. I don’t think you should.”

  “I’ll only look and see if I can find something. You keep him out of here.”

  Sarah stumbled to a stop. “But how?!”

  “I dunno. Stall him or something. Hurry, Sarah! Keep him out of here.”

  Her sister staggered to the door. She looked like she was going to be sick. “You have five minutes. That’s it.”

  “I need more!”

  “Five,” she repeated. “And if I start screaming, you’d better get out.”

  “Five minutes.” Maddi nodded. “Got it.”

  *   *   *

  The first step was easy. Robbie’s computer was in the middle of downloading a torrent, and when Madi had tapped the keyboard, she didn’t need a password to get in. That was the first, and only, break she got.

  Her fingers blurred over the keyboard as she searched for evidence of his trolling. Madi couldn’t breathe. If he caught her, she’d have to explain what she was doing. I was wrong about Laurent! What if I’m wrong about Robbie, too?! Her gut said she wasn’t.

  On the other side of the door, she could hear Sarah speaking too loudly.

  “… but I thought your mom said she was making cookies. Can’t you go get us some?” And then Robbie’s reply, too low to be heard. “Please, Robbie,” Sarah pleaded. “I really want those cookies.” More grumbling. “Oh no. Madi never eats cookies. She’s—she’s—She just doesn’t.”

  The door stayed closed.

  “Please,” Madi gasped. “All I need is proof.” If she could find an account with “fandometric” or a draft of his trolling, she’d have all the evidence she needed.

  Madi tried to open his e-mail, but the password stumped her. Then she looked through draft documents. All blank. She went to his browser history—completely clean.

  “No!” As Brian had warned her, the troll was good at covering his t
racks.

  The voices in the hallway grew closer.

  Madi closed her eyes, trying to dredge up all the details of the troll she could imagine. But in her panic, she couldn’t find the right words, and without e-mail access she couldn’t search his outgoing mail.

  “If I only had a good IP address to—” A single word came to mind, and she typed it into the computer’s search: Tor. The program that hides your IP address. The program appeared in the task manager just as Sarah began to scream.

  “Madi! MADI!” Sarah wailed. “Robbie won’t get me any COOKIES!!!”

  Madi right-clicked on Tor and hit END TASK. Tor was off! She closed the task manager and bolted for the door, but Robbie was standing on the other side.

  The door banged into his shoulder. “Ouch! What the hell?” he yelped.

  “Sorry!”

  “Your sister’s freaking out. You’d better go—”

  But Madi was already past him and sprinting down the stairs two at a time. “Let’s go, Sarah!” she shouted. “We’ve got to GO!”

  20

  “Son, your ego is writing checks your body can’t cash.”

  (Top Gun, 1986)

  Madi knocked on the office door, waiting until she heard her father mutter, “It’s open.” He looked up as she stepped inside. “What’s up?”

  “Dad, we need to talk.”

  Her father dropped the papers in his hand on the desk and came around to Madi’s side. “That sounds serious. What’s happened?”

  “I found him.”

  “Found who?”

  “The person who sent those photographs to the papers. The same person who turned me in to Mrs. Preet. It’s a troll. A troll from the MadLibs site.”

  “Madi, this is a lot of information to throw at me at once.” Her father sat down and patted the chair next to him. “I need you to start at the beginning.”

  “Well,” Madi said, “I guess it started when I finished up reviewing the Starveil series. There was a reader who…” Her words faded. “No, wait. It was before then. This actually goes back further.”