Little Brother

out what they've been surfing."
    "You think it'll work?"
    "Well, even if it doesn't, it's something positive to do."
    "Why would they listen to us, anyway?"
    "Who wouldn't listen to M1k3y?"
    I put down my coffee. I picked up my phone and slipped it into my pocket. I stood up, turned on my heel, and walked out of the cafe. I picked a direction at random and kept going. My face felt tight, the blood gone into my stomach, which churned.
    They know who you are, I thought. They know who M1k3y is. That was it. If Ange had figured it out, the DHS had too. I was doomed. I had known that since they let me go from the DHS truck, that someday they'd come and arrest me and put me away forever, send me to wherever Darryl had gone.
    It was all over.
    She nearly tackled me as I reached Market Street. She was out of breath and looked furious.
    "What the hell is your problem, mister?"
    I shook her off and kept walking. It was all over.
    She grabbed me again. "Stop it, Marcus, you're scaring me. Come on, talk to me."
    I stopped and looked at her. She blurred before my eyes. I couldn't focus on anything. I had a mad desire to jump into the path of a Muni trolley as it tore past us, down the middle of the road. Better to die than to go back.
    "Marcus!" She did something I'd only seen people do in the movies. She slapped me, a hard crack across the face. "Talk to me, dammit!"
    I looked at her and put my hand to my face, which was stinging hard.
    "No one is supposed to know who I am," I said. "I can't put it any more simply. If you know, it's all over. Once other people know, it's all over."
    "Oh god, I'm sorry. Look, I only know because, well, because I blackmailed Jolu. After the party I stalked you a little, trying to figure out if you were the nice guy you seemed to be or a secret axe-murderer. I've known Jolu for a long time and when I asked him about you, he gushed like you were the Second Coming or something, but I could hear that there was something he wasn't telling me. I've known Jolu for a long time. He dated my older sister at computer camp when he was a kid. I have some really good dirt on him. I told him I'd go public with it if he didn't tell me."
    "So he told you."
    "No," she said. "He told me to go to hell. Then I told him something about me. Something I'd never told anyone else."
    "What?"
    She looked at me. Looked around. Looked back at me. "OK. I won't swear you to secrecy because what's the point? Either I can trust you or I can't.
    "Last year, I —" she broke off. "Last year, I stole the standardized tests and published them on the net. It was just a lark. I happened to be walking past the principal's office and I saw them in his safe, and the door was hanging open. I ducked into his office — there were six sets of copies and I just put one into my bag and took off again. When I got home, I scanned them all and put them up on a Pirate Party server in Denmark."
    "That was you ?" I said.
    She blushed. "Um. Yeah."
    "Holy crap!" I said. It had been huge news. The Board of Education said that its No Child Left Behind tests had cost tens of millions of dollars to produce and that they'd have to spend it all over again now that they'd had the leak. They called it "edu-terrorism." The news had speculated endlessly about the political motivations of the leaker, wondering if it was a teacher's protest, or a student, or a thief, or a disgruntled government contractor.
    "That was YOU?"
    "It was me," she said.
    "And you told Jolu this —"
    "Because I wanted him to be sure that I would keep the secret. If he knew my secret, then he'd have something he could use to put me in jail if I opened my trap. Give a little, get a little. Quid pro quo, like in Silence of the Lambs."
    "And he told you."
    "No," she said. "He didn't."
    "But —"
    "Then I told him how into you I was. How I was planning to totally make an idiot of myself and throw myself at you. Then he told me."
    I couldn't think of anything to say then. I looked down at my toes. She grabbed my hands and squeezed them.
    "I'm sorry I squeezed it out of him. It was your decision to tell me, if you were going to tell me at all. I had no business —"
    "No," I said. Now that I knew how she'd found out, I was starting to calm down. "No, it's good you know. You ."
    "Me," she said. "Li'l ol' me."
    "OK, I can live with this. But there's one other thing."
    "What?"
    "There's no way to say this without sounding like a jerk, so I'll just say it. People who date each other — or whatever