Assured Destruction by Michael F. Stewart

impersonated me and posted the link to the blog on my own page. Another space of mine hacked, and I use pretty strong passwords. At least I’d thought so.
    @JFlyTrap You’re kinda like a boulder rolling down a mountain causing an avalanche that crushes all the innocents in a village, aren’t ya? Heckleena tweets.
    It’s not your fault @JFlyTrap, it’s the bad peoples’ , Frannie replies.
    Would any of it have happened if not for @JFlyTrap? Hairy asks.
    No more Facebook, no more Twitter, no blogging, I’m offline, JanusFlyTrap tweets.
    Who are you? Give us back our @JFlyTrap! Heckleena demands.
    “We’ll see how long it lasts,” I say aloud. The bell rings and I kick open the car door.
    English is my first class. I run from my car to the classroom. Despite my best efforts to avoid people, I still catch whispers as I jog through the hallway.
    In class, my teacher stands at the white board, surveying the few stragglers.
    “Please place late essays in the pile at the front.”
    I open my mouth to protest, to tell her that my computer crashed, then the server, and that someone is maliciously targeting me, but it all sounds crazed. Janus the computer nerd loses her data? Besides, it doesn’t matter. My mom said, “Pass your courses or bye-bye computers.” Well, Shadownet is offline. The only thing I can do is send tweets and posts over my iPhone and respond to email. It’s like Shadownet has arms and legs, but no heart.
    It’s ironic that my backpack holds the only copy of my essay—if you don’t count where it came from. I reach inside and leave “Hullabaloo” with the few other late essays, including Karl’s; he smiles at me as I lay mine on top of his. After I sit, I concentrate on them as hard as I can, but unfortunately they don’t spontaneously combust.
    I don’t take English with Jonny, so instead I spend the class doodling about him and Karl. I can’t participate in the class discussion because they’re going over what the essay should have contained and I haven’t read the book beyond a Wikipedia plot summary. Instead, I draw Jonny brandishing a huge paint brush and Karl wielding a baseball bat. They duel until Jonny sticks the paintbrush into Karl’s eye socket, but in a final swing of the bat, Karl wallops Jonny in the side of his head staving in his skull. By the end of class, they’re both bleeding out on the ground, dying for their love of me.
    “Janus, the principal would like to speak with you.”
    I look up. Mrs. French’s lips are pursed. Class is over. I’m one of a half-dozen kids lingering. I’m not worried about the principal; I can guess what he wants to talk about. I shrug my courier bag over my shoulder and walk out. When I reach the offices, the school admin assistant waves me behind the desk.
    Chippy is leaving the office ahead of me. My concern ratchets higher, but then, maybe he has been caught. The school takes bullying seriously.
    I knock on the door.
    “Enter.”
    I turn the knob and walk into the room. My breath catches in my throat. It takes a lot to force my mom to drive, and here she is, sitting on the principal’s big couch.
    “Mom?”
    She stares at me. The principal points to the couch with its free seat right next to the police officer, the same one who came poking around Assured Destruction about the health clinic. Constable Williams.
    “Hello, Janus,” she says. “I’m with the cyber crime unit in the police force.”
    I clear my throat without saying hello.
    “Are you familiar with a website where anonymous posters are making comments about other students, including you?” the principal asks.
    I nod.
    “It’s quite clever of you, Janus.” He smiles and grunts appreciatively.
    I look to my mom in confusion, but she’s giving nothing away. Stone faced.
    Principal Wolzowski checks a file and then shuts it. “We know you’re intelligent, but you’re failing several courses, including computer science.”
    I start in, but my mom cuts me