The Facebook Files Read online

  Tobias gave Brett a disapproving look. He didn’t like to be called Toby and he didn’t like Brett much. He shook his head. Brett had told a good lie, but I wasn’t sure if Tobias was buying it.

  “Yeah, you’re such an annoying jerk! I’m freezing and I’ll probably catch a cold,” I said.

  “Well, you shouldn’t have been bothering me! You need to relax,” Brett shouted back.

  I usually sucked at lying and tried not to laugh. “You’re so annoying, Brett!” I yelled, relieved that Tobias seemed to be buying the lie. Brett stormed off to his bedroom and I sulked off to mine.

  I peeled off my wet clothes, and jumped in the shower. As I washed and rinsed the salt out of my hair, droplets of water trickled down my face and gave me a chill, reminding me of how the ocean had taken me under its lethal control. Then the realization that I could have drowned really hit me and I cried quietly.

  Having firmly lost my appetite after my ordeal, I climbed into bed. I tried to get comfortable, but the foul taste of salt water lurked under my gums and made me nauseous. After tossing and turning for what seemed like ages, I finally fell asleep.

  CHAPTER 3

  Morning soon arrived and I wasn’t in the mood for my first day of college. I hadn’t slept well, and still felt sick even after brushing my teeth several times to try and get the salty taste out of my mouth.

  Pulling on a pair of black skinny jeans and my favorite gray shirt that had a black eagle printed on the front, I could feel intense butterflies in my stomach. I looked at myself in the mirror, threw on a black, lightweight jacket, and thought I looked okay. I hadn’t conformed to the trendy Long Beach dress code, but I also hadn’t placed myself in the rebellious, making-a-statement category either.

  I grabbed my sunglasses and bag, and ran downstairs trying to avoid an exaggerated first-day-of-school send-off. I was already late, but the door to the kitchen was open and Flo must have sensed that I was in a rush, because she tossed a banana at me as I walked briskly to the front door.

  Slamming the door behind me and relieved that I’d bypassed everyone, I almost tripped over my feet when I saw my father, who was usually at work by now, standing in front of me with a huge grin on his face. He was leaning on a brand new, white Porsche Carrera, twirling the keys around his index finger. His gray hair was slicked back, and his beady eyes beamed with excitement.

  I knew I had to find my grateful face. It was a lovely car and I would certainly blend in with all the other rich kids now, just like he wanted me to. I wanted a black moped with silver and red trimming, but my father disapproved of anything with two wheels. Most eighteen-year-olds would be overjoyed with such a generous present, and I knew that a car would offer me freedom, but I felt guilty for not wanting to accept it. My father was getting agitated, so I looked at the car and forced out a smile.

  “Dad, you didn’t need to buy me a car. I can walk; Long Beach University isn’t very far,” I said.

  My father laughed at me, still twirling the car keys around his finger, and looked around for an audience. “Kate, nobody of our caliber walks anywhere. I had this car custom-made specifically for you. All the cool kids will have new cars. Your mother and I want you to enjoy college. All we want is for you to have everything you need.”

  My father wasn’t fooling me; this car was for me to drive so that everyone knew my family had money.

  “I like to walk,” I said, while looking at my watch.

  My father burst into another patronizing, awkward laugh and opened the car door, ushering me inside. “Well, now you won’t need to walk. Treadmills are for walking—ask your sister. Now, I have to go to work. Enjoy your new car and have a great first day. And try to make an effort to make some friends, Kate. Make sure you get your schedule and find out what books you’ll need. I’m sure you’ll enjoy English Lit, but I can’t say that I’m impressed with you choosing to study art. Honestly, a bright girl like you should be focused on becoming a doctor or a lawyer, but I guess it’s not my life to waste.” My father tossed the keys at me and I caught them just before they hit my face. Half-smiling, I reluctantly sat inside my new and unwanted car.

  The seats were white leather and the interior was made to the highest specification possible. There was every gadget you could imagine, and I didn’t have a clue what half of the buttons were for, but I was pleased to see an iPod socket. There was a full tank of gas and as I put the key into the ignition, my father drove past, shouting, “Put the top down, Kate!” I had no intention of doing that; I was embarrassed enough.

  Brett walked over to me, his face quite a picture. “I can’t believe Dad bought you a Porsche. Can you give me a ride to school?” He ran his hand down the hood of the car.

  “No. I’m already running late.”

  Brett pushed his sunglasses up on his head. “Why are you so grumpy when you’ve just been given such an awesome car?”

  “I didn’t ask for a car. Now I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb.”

  “I know. You’re a biker chick. But it’s not surprising that Dad didn’t buy you a two-wheeled death machine.”

  “I would’ve been perfectly happy walking.”

  “Why don’t you try being one of the cool kids for once? You might like it.”

  “Just because you’re a high school heartthrob, it doesn’t mean that I want to be popular too. Besides, I’m not a kid.” I tapped Brett’s cheek playfully.

  “Watch out for the kooks, Kate,” he said as he ran to the bus stop.

  I slipped my iPod into position, turned the volume up, and placed my sunglasses perfectly on my nose. Driving away, I felt like a complete poser, a traitor to my inner self.

  Down the street, I turned the corner and leaned over to turn the music down a little. But as I looked up, I saw a figure in front of the car and immediately slammed on the brakes. My heart was pounding and as I slowly opened my eyes, I prayed that I hadn’t hurt anything or anyone.

  I took the key out of the ignition, jumped out, and ran around to the front of the car, but nothing was there. I was sure I’d seen someone standing directly in front of the car. Confused, I got down on my hands and knees and looked underneath the car, but nothing was there, either.

  Just as I was about to get back into the car, I noticed a piece of material wedged underneath the front tire, and above it, there was a small dent in the wheel arch. The material was white and looked like part of a T-shirt. I must’ve hit someone, but they’d vanished. I was beginning to wonder what it was with me and people disappearing. I was sweating and my heart was still racing. People glared at me as they drove past and I cursed my father for buying the car.

  Removing my jacket, I sat in the car, turned the air conditioning up, and debated whether to wait around. But there was no point; the person I’d hit was gone.

  I thought about reporting the incident to the police, but what good would that do? There was no real damage to my car and nobody around to press charges against me. It was my fault for not paying attention to the road anyway.

  I relaxed a bit and stared at the piece of material in my hands. It was my only piece of evidence, and I’d probably never find its owner. After giving myself a pep talk, I placed the key in the ignition, turned the music down and drove off, glancing in my rear-view mirror more often than necessary. I wasn’t looking forward to telling my father about the dent in the car, but at least that was all I had to explain.

  When I got to school and pulled into an available parking space, I was mesmerized by the sea of shiny new cars around me. Guys pulled up in black and silver convertibles and easily caught the girls’ attention.

  On the other side of the parking lot, an assembly of motorcyclists pulled up alongside each other, and the girls were going crazy over them, too. The motorcyclists were my type and I often fantasized about sitting on a bike, wrapping my arms around a sexy biker, and feeling the soft leather of his jacket rubbing against my face.

  After getting out of the car, I clumsily slammed the door and
dropped my keys. I picked them up, and that feeling of butterflies swirling around my stomach returned. I reapplied my lip gloss in the wing mirror, before heading toward the entrance of the main building. I needed to get to the student support center to get a schedule, but it was loud and hard to see the signs through the crowds. When I finally saw an arrow for the student support center, I followed it around to the north side of the building.

  I got my schedule and realized that my first class started across campus in five minutes. I panicked, bit down on my bottom lip, and walked faster; I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by being late.

  As I rushed through the crowds of students, I saw a guy wearing a white T-shirt that was ripped at the bottom. My heart skipped a beat and I felt a sudden surge of adrenaline rush through my body. Forgetting about my class, I followed him, frantically pushing my way through the crowd, not wanting to lose sight of him. Just moments ago, the noise in the hall had been overwhelming and now, focused on only one thing, it seemed silent. I called out to the stranger who I suspected had collided with my car.

  “Hey, you in the white T-shirt!” I hollered down the hall.

  Several people looked at me. Normally, I would’ve been mortified at being stared at, but at that moment, I couldn’t have cared less. Another rush of adrenaline raced through me, urging me to continue my mission. The louder I yelled, the quicker he seemed to walk, but why?

  “Hey, the guy with the ripped white T-shirt!”

  Not concerned with everyone glaring at me, I continued pushing my way through the crowd. I pushed faster as the stranger kept walking, refusing to turn around and acknowledge me. I turned the corner hot in pursuit of my target, but just as I was gaining on him, a guy stepped out in front of me, knocking me down. I quickly jumped up, not concerned with his apology, and continued pushing my way through the crowd. But it was too late.

  He had disappeared.

  I threw my bag on the floor. I was so close, and now so far from finding this mysterious guy. I’d never felt so insistent on anything before and had never felt such a rush of adrenaline. The moment seemed almost surreal and everyone around me must have thought I was completely crazy.

  Maybe I was.

  After my first day of college—which could only be described as a nightmare—was over, I walked to my car, desperate to get home and relax. Images of the day flashed through my mind: I’d run someone over, hollered down the hall at a complete stranger who ignored me while everyone else stared at me like I was insane, and I’d been ridiculously late for Intro to Art. I must have made quite a first impression. Tomorrow was my first English class and I vowed to be early.

  Trying to get the car door open, I dropped my keys. When I bent down to pick them up, I glanced over at the front wheel and noticed that the dent was gone.

  Was I going crazy? Maybe I’d been deprived of too much oxygen while trapped under the ocean’s current and part of my brain had been affected permanently.

  As I sat on the ground clutching my bag and doubting my sanity for a few minutes, I remembered the T-shirt. There had definitely been an incident between my car and a stranger. After all, I had the torn piece of fabric as evidence. I anxiously pulled it out of my pocket, looked at it, and sighed with relief.

  I wasn’t losing my mind.