Ghost Time

imagine what the other 97 percent looks like? And go, Cam. I imagine it all the time—what do youthink I do when I draw?, thinking, Me—of all people, how did I end up with such a geek?
    The other thing Cam always talks about is the grid: he loves the idea of this world, this underworld with all these revolutionaries who live entirely off the grid, preparing for the Internet Apocalypse or whatever; I don’t know what. But Cam always says the next Che Guevara is going to be a hacker, and that hacker Che will have to use guerilla warfare tactics, always on the move, hiding out in the virtual jungles. According to Cam, hacker Che is out there—maybe even driving me to school, and I’m just like, Dude , you are no Che Guevara, okay? Anyhow.
    Just before we got to school, I asked Cam, Which would be easier to hack into, NASA or Facebook? Facebook, he said, pulling into the parking lot, and I go, What makes you say that? Because I’ve done it, he said, turning off the ignition, patting my thigh, and I started laughing, and he goes, Don’t believe me? I looked at him and go, No .
    He grabbed his bag from the back, and he goes, Listen, Thee. I know you love me for my rugged looks and scorching hot bod, but, for your information, missy, I am one of the world’s foremost hackers, and ohmygod, I totally lost it, laughing at his rugged bit, forget the scorching bod part. Deep down, he’s the most humble guy in the whole world, but you wouldn’t know it, hearing him talk smack. Then he goes, I’m telling you, one of the world’s foremost hackers is living right here, in a quiet little town in upstate New York. Really, why do you think we had to move here, of all the places in the world? he said, and then first bell rang.
    Cam’s such a goof, I couldn’t stop laughing, getting out of thecar, and he goes, You think I’m kidding, huh? Then he grabbed my arm and started swinging me around, and I almost tripped, and Cam had to grab me to keep me from falling on the ground. I thought he had me, too, but he didn’t, and we both fell down. Smooth, right? So we’re on the ground, right in front of school, with all these kids walking past us. And even though it’s Monday morning, and we still have an entire semester to go before summer vacation, I don’t care about any of it, because I don’t want to be anywhere but exactly where I am. That’s the first time I realized that it’s all the moments I don’t have pictures of that stay with me the most.

TUESDAY, APRIL 5, 2011
    (TWENTY HOURS LATER)
    1:43 PM
    Like it wasn’t bad enough, being worried sick and completely pissed off, barely able to sleep all night, the next day, Tuesday, Mr. Jenssen took my phone away in sixth period. It wasn’t my fault, either. What happened was, right after he took attendance, someone’s phone went off, and he stopped writing on the board, and he turned around with this exasperated look. He’s this smallish guy and very beige—when I think of Mr. Jenssen, I think of beige. Like he always wears Dockers and beige button-down shirts and brown shoes, and he probably has a beige wife and a couple beige kids, too. Anyhow, you could tell Jenssen was in a mood, because he turned around and said, Whose phone is that? Because they’re really coming down; we’ve got all these new rules about phones, so we’re not even allowed to bring them to class. But of course I did, because if Cam called, I wasn’t going to miss his call, no way.
    Thing is, I wanted to know who it was, too. Because as soon as I heard this eerie tap-tapping snare drum sound, I knew it was Bauhaus—someone in class had Bauhaus for a ringtone, and I was like, Wow. Is there actually someone cool in this class? I mean, that was strange enough, but their phone kept ringing and ringing, and each ring, the ringtone got louder, and by then, the whole class was looking around, and Jenssen was about to pop a vein in his neck. But by the looks on everyone’s faces, you could tell no one knew whose phone it was, so Jenssen started walking around the room, everyone watching him, and then he goes, I said , whose phone is that? Who brought their phone to class?
    No one answered. Everyone just stared at their hands, and by the fifth ring, it stopped, but he was really annoyed. He waited for like thirty seconds, and then, finally, Jenssen goes, We’ll wait to start class when someone tells me whose phone that is, and he started walking up and down the rows, waiting. Then it went off