Ghost Time

can’t fall apart, and Knox said, Well, of course it can fall apart—. I snapped, Knox, you know what I’m saying. Knox said, Wait, you know what it is? Beta. It looks like beta, he said, frowning. And I go, What’s beta? Is that bad? I said, and he goes, Don’t worry: it’s not contagious. They eradicated it years ago. And I didn’t know if he was being serious, so I ignored him, showing him another video.
    This one, too, I said, playing another video for him on my computer. Because, at first, I thought maybe it was just that one, or maybe just my phone, but it’s not, I said, taking out my computer. I turned it on, and then I pushed play, showing him this iMovie of me and Cam from last winter. I was sitting on his lap, in front of the computer, and I said, Oh, ha-ha, I’m Cam, and I’m so funny, slapping him, and then he got me in a bear hug, and Cam took one of my hands and made me slap myself, telling me: Theadora, quit hitting yourself. Quit hitting yourself. You silly girl, you silly teenage girl!
    Knox started watching it again, and I said, Can we stop now? pressing stop. He looked embarrassed for a second, and I go, It’s not that—we don’t have sex or anything. It’s just that everytime I watch this, the image gets fainter. It gets more and more grainy every time. That’s what I was trying to tell you. It’s like it’s decomposing, or rotting—I don’t understand. Don’t watch it again, he said, closing my computer, and I just looked at him, like, come on. He goes, No, seriously. Listen, can you burn me a copy? I go, Sure. But why? And he goes, I want to show it to a friend—I don’t know jack squat about this stuff, so let me show it to someone who knows what they’re doing. Is this the only one? Is this the only video that it’s happened to? I shook my head and I go, No, there are others—all my videos.
    He thought about it, sitting back, and then he goes, Okay, don’t watch any of them, just burn me a copy, and we’ll see what we can find out. I go, But you see what it looks like, like an old photograph, don’t you think? It’s like sepia, I said, and he looked at me, shaking his head, like what the hell is going on? Well, I told you, I said. You told me what? he said, and I go, I told you, I’m not the crazy one here. And he smiled and said, I beg to differ. He slid out of the booth, and then he said, Need a ride? I grabbed my bag and said, That’s some quality detective work, right there.
    We got in the car, and we didn’t have much to say on the way home, until he pulled in front of our building, and then he said, Thea, there’s something else I need to tell you. I was worried, and I said, Is it Mel? And he said, No, Mel’s fine, and I looked, and he said, It’s not Cam—we don’t have any new information, I’m sorry, and I sighed, realizing that only left one other thing it could be. Ohmygod, I said, and he said, There were more videos posted on YouTube, and he looked at me, sympathizing.Did you see? I said, and he nodded, and I felt my jaw lock up, getting ready for a fight.
    I swallowed back, trying to calm down, and then I said, A video of what? And I could tell he’d been dreading this, but he came out with it. Knox goes, See for yourself, handing me his phone, and I took the phone, trying not to shake, and then I pressed play, and at first, you could sort of make out that it was a boy and girl, and they’re having sex in a bathroom, right on the sink, and right away, I felt sick. It had gone high-def. It had been seen by four hundred thousand people. And it was me and Cam, real or not. That’s what Foley was going to show me: I know he was, the perv.
    I stared without staring at anything—there’s a blindness that comes from emotion, from being overwhelmed, and it was like that. But I shook my head, and I go, I know how it looks, but Cam still didn’t have anything to do with this. There’s no way, I said, nodding, and Knox goes, Thea, listen. Every video posted, every picture, they’ve all been traced to Cam’s website, and I snapped, So? Doesn’t mean they’re from Cam. And Knox goes, Do you really believe that? I could tell by the look in his eye, I could tell he thinks I’m crazy, or worse, I’m wrong, and he feels pity for me. I see it in his eyes, but I told him, I said, You know, I’m holding on… God, it was so hard to say it, but I had to get it out. Knox, I am holding on by this much , I said, pinching my thumb and index finger