Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“Hey, so someone mentioned shaving,” I say, remembering Sloane’s mocking text. “That’s not really a thing, right?”
Silas cracks a smile. “Oh, it’s a thing. Have to take every advantage you can get.”
“Or if waxing is your preference…” Lawson says helpfully.
A shudder runs through me. “Even my legs?”
“Everything the water touches.” Lawson pulls a disposable razor out of his gym bag and tosses it on my backpack. “Technically, the balls are optional. But think fast, swim fast, I always say.”
Silas shrugs. “Girls like it.”
Awesome. Like the Speedo isn’t embarrassing enough.
Last week Lucas had mentioned a programming issue he’s having and asked if I could try talking him through it, so after practice I head to the computer lab to meet up. I’m a few minutes early and take a seat at a machine in the back of the room to wait for him. There’s hardly ever anyone in here. Today, it’s just a couple underclassmen downloading torrents and talking too loudly for me to ignore their boring conversation. When I hear Duke’s name, I get a little more interested.
“Why does he care?” the skinny ginger asks.
“I don’t even know. Something about Duke’s cousin being friends with the guy?”
“What happened, exactly?”
“Last weekend Liz is all like, ‘Oh, I’m not feeling well. I’m not going out.’ Then Sean says he saw her out with that asshole from Ballard again. I call her out on it, and she still won’t admit it, but now is like, ‘I think I’m too busy with school to have a boyfriend.’”
That, or maybe she didn’t appreciate his voice-impression of her. I don’t even know the girl, and I’m offended for her.
“That’s convenient, Liz,” the friend says mockingly.
“Right? So I told Caleb, I’m gonna figure out a way to fuck this dude’s shit up. Then all of a sudden, Duke’s sticking his nose in it, saying the guy is off limits.”
“It’s bullshit.” I’m not sure if Ginger is reacting to the story or the content filter that pops up on the screen to kick them off the torrent site. “Duke was unbearable last year. Now he’s gone totally power-mad.”
“Someone needs to kick him off his high horse.”
“Have you seen his fights? Doesn’t look likely.”
“We could always hire a ringer.”
My attention is rerouted when Lucas walks in. He briefly scans the room until he spots me, then walks down the aisle of desks to sit beside me and pull out his laptop.
“Hey. Thanks again for doing this,” he tells me, pulling up his script for me to examine. “I’ve been messing with it all week and I keep making it worse.”
“No worries.” I take a minute to scan the code and it becomes evident pretty quickly where he screwed up. With a few keystrokes, I make the necessary changes and run the script to test that it functions.
He gives a self-deprecating laugh. “Of course, you figure it out in ten seconds. I should’ve seen that.”
“It’s a common mistake. Don’t beat yourself up.” Lucas is smart, and he’s got a knack for this stuff. I’ve just been at it a lot longer. “Sometimes it takes another set of eyes to catch it.”
“Hey, did you see this?” He pulls up a blog post on his laptop about a recent hack of some chud message board. The hackers posted the user metadata and ten years of messages to a public forum outing a bunch of Nazi assholes. The blog identifies the hackers as a group called The Infinite Wisdom of the Cosmic Turtle.
“I think I know one of them,” I tell him. “We’ve traded a few exploits on the forums.”
“Dude, that’s badass. You’re like a legit hacker guru.”
“Say that a little louder, will ya?”
Lucas smothers a contrite smile. “What was your best hack? Or your favorite, at least? Anything I would have heard of?”
I shake my head ruefully. Me, I’m not in it for the fame. Some people are chasing glory. Others are on a soul mission. But I’m not an activist or fame whore. It’s a hobby. A useful skill, like lifting heavy shit or running fast. I’m lifting code.
“There’s a reason hackers are anonymous,” I say. “And that’s the way I keep it. I’m not trying to dare the FBI to hunt me down. I don’t plan on dying in Gitmo for getting free Netflix.”
“Hey.”
I glance up to see Ginger and his butt-hurt buddy standing over us. I peg them as sophomores, judging by the unfortunate patches of facial hair and untreated acne.
“What?” I demand.
They shrink back, yet still determined.
“You’re a hacker?” the newly single kid asks. “Like if I said I wanted you to dig up dirt on someone?”
The question doesn’t surprise me. Lots of people with an axe to grind have found their way to me, looking for revenge by exploiting the secrets and weaknesses of their enemies. Often, they’re not happy about what they find. But it pays well, and I’m not in business to worry about outcomes.