Instafamous Read online

  “The endgame,” I said. “When we sent him our dick pics, we gave up the only leverage we had. Now all we can do is continue to comply with whatever he asks of us, or we’re completely fucked. Where do you think this is gonna end? Today it’s only a kiss. What’s he gonna ask of us tomorrow, and how far are we willing to go along with this? Rim jobs? Golden showers?” I looked at him. His face turning crimson, it was obvious that the thought of performing sexual acts at the extreme end of the spectrum made him feel uncomfortable. “Because one thing’s for sure. He’s not gonna troll us for a while and then just walk away. Even if we continue to do everything he wants, there’s never gonna be any guarantee he won’t expose us anyway. And the more material we give him, the worse that day is gonna be when it finally comes. That’s when, not if.”

  “Jesus Christ, Noah,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “What do you want from me? I don’t know what to do!”

  “Thinking about what I just said would be a great start.”

  He sighed. “Fine. Anyway, I gotta get to class.”

  Stunned by his brazen ability to switch from hot and passionate to cold and detached in the blink of an eye, I looked on as he turned around and disappeared in the bushes like a weasel. “What about later?” I called after him to no response. Silently cursing him out, I posted the photo of our kiss to BenHynes01’s Instagram account, waited another minute and then headed back.

  SIX

  When I stepped out of the bushes, I ran straight into Jenna. She lived on the other side of town, so her way to school, unlike mine, led her right by the south side of the gym, and she was obviously running late today. When I saw her, I stopped.

  “Oh hey,” she said, briefly looking me in the eyes before looking past me to see if anyone else was about to come out of the bushes.

  “You’re late,” I replied.

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “Says the guy who’s late.”

  Well done, Noah, I thought. “Oh, uh … yeah, no, I was just … I was feeling a bit queasy. I thought I was gonna throw up, so …”

  “So instead of using the bathroom right next to your classroom, you walked half a mile so you could vomit behind the gym. That makes sense.”

  I’d forgotten Jenna had English literature with me and knew where I was supposed to be at 8 a.m. on a Thursday morning. “It’s not half a mile,” I said.

  “It’s called hyperbole, Noah,” she said with a smirk, “and you’re missing the point.”

  “And you’ve obviously never been to the boys’ bathrooms at this school.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said. She paused for a second, then she added, “I don’t know why I just said that.”

  Trying to make sense of the expression on her face, I said, “Anything you’d like to tell me?”

  “Nope,” she said, holding my stare. “Anything you’d like to tell me?”

  “Nope.”

  We looked at each other for a long while until Jenna finally said, “We should get to class.”

  “I guess we should,” I said and started walking. “So why are you late today?”

  “Ah, well,” she said, keeping up with me. “You know.”

  I glanced at her, shaking my head. “I don’t, actually. But it’s okay if you don’t want to say.”

  “Yeah, no, it’s just there’s a lot of personal drama going on in my life right now. Been breaking up with my girlfriend, then getting back together, then breaking up again.”

  “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” I said.

  She looked at her watch. “Well, as of twenty minutes ago, I don’t.”

  “Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, waving her hand. “I mean, it’s not okay, obviously, because I really love her, but if the last couple of days are anything to go by, my relationship status is probably gonna change another half dozen more times by the end of the week, so …”

  “Yikes.”

  “I know, right?” She looked at me. “So what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  I laughed an insecure laugh.

  “Is that a yes or no?” she pressed on.

  I sighed. “It’s … complicated.”

  “Love always is,” she said. “Not that I’m an expert or anything, but it’s what I’m hearing.”

  “Not only love, I guess. Life is complicated. And I’m an expert.”

  Jenna raised an eyebrow. “An expert on life?”

  “On complicatedness, more like.”

  She laughed, and that made me smile because usually people only laughed when I said something stupid, not when I said something clever.

  When we reached our classroom and walked through the door, all heads turned our way, and Mrs. Keller sighed, looking at her watch. “Mr. Simmons. Late again.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t—”

  “It’s my fault Noah is late,” Jenna interrupted me. “I’m having my period and I passed out. Low blood pressure, you know? Noah stayed with me until I came around again.” She turned to me. “Thanks again, Noah.”

  “Sure,” I mumbled, my face glowing with heat.

  Mrs. Keller sighed. “Take your seats.”

  As Jenna took her second-row seat, I walked to my desk in the back of the room. I plopped down in my seat next to Jordan. When I turned my head to look at him, his eyebrows were raised so high that his eyeballs were almost falling out. Only then did I realize how this must have looked to him. He thought I was meeting with my secret love interest, and ten minutes later I walked into the classroom with Jenna.

  “Wow, dude,” he whispered in my direction.

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I shook my head. It was gonna be a long day.

  * * *

  Sitting across the table, Jordan kept throwing furtive glances at me as he was eating his mac and cheese, trying hard not to smirk.

  “It’s not what it looked like,” I finally said.

  “Hm?”

  “I wasn’t seeing Jenna. I just ran into her when I was on my way to class.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “She doesn’t have her period,” I said. “I mean, maybe she does, I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. She didn’t pass out either. She just said that to Mrs. Keller to get me off the hook.”

  “It’s really none of my business,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Well, then stop looking at me like that.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “What am I looking at you like?”

  “I don’t know. As if I suddenly turned lesbian or something.”

  Shaking his head, he laughed. “You’re really something else, Noah.”

  “You wanna hang out later?” I suddenly heard myself say. I wasn’t even sure why I’d said it. I guess it was partly because I wanted to show him I wasn’t mad at him, and partly because I was in dire need of someone I could talk to about stuff I had no one else to talk to about. I didn’t even know if Jordan was the kind of person I needed, but there was only one way to find out.

  He looked me in the eyes for a long few seconds, even forgetting to chew. Then he nodded and said, “Sure.”

  “Okay, cool.”

  “Not at my place though. My mom’s home, and if I bring you over she’ll ask me a million stupid questions about you that I don’t know the answer to, and that’d be super awkward and everything.”

  I nodded. “Okay. We can hang at my place if you want. My mom’s working late.”

  “All right, cool.”

  I was about to ask him if he was into video games, but that’s when my phone buzzed. With trembling, sweaty hands, I pulled it out of my pocket. Under Jordan’s surreptitiously watchful eyes, I read the latest message.

  BenHynes01: U guys r the most adorable couple ever! Great selfie skills too, well done. But enough with the cutesiness. Time 2 take ur relationship 2 the
next level. Each of u has 1 dick and 2 holes the other can put his dick into. If I got my math right, that allows for a total of 4 videos, 60 seconds each, fully nude & in full HD. By fully nude I mean bareback. Condoms r such a turnoff. Socks too btw. Show off ur sexy bodies & please no more toilet sex! I’m sure each of u fags has a nice little bedroom u can use. I’m aware that the logistics of what I’m asking might be a bit of a challenge so I’m giving u 10 days 2 get it done. Cos I’m not a monster, u know? 10 days but not a second longer. Saturday at midnight or you’ll be instafamous by Monday morning. Go!

  “You okay?” Jordan asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “What? Yeah, yeah,” I lied. I was feeling dizzy and nauseous. Raising my head, I scanned the cafeteria until I found Ben. He was sitting at a table halfway across the room, staring at his phone and looking exactly the way I was feeling. After a few seconds he looked up, seeking me out in the crowd. When his gaze finally met mine, I was stunned by the look in his eyes that could only be described as fearful, helpless, even desperate. There was no sign of fighting spirit or leadership. He was completely lost and seemed to be looking at me for guidance. It creeped me out because I was not a natural born leader by any stretch, nor had I ever wanted to be one. Just because I was great at identifying problems didn’t mean I had any solutions. But by giving in to the demands of our blackmailer, I had followed Ben’s feeble, reluctant lead, and where had it taken us? We were backed up into a corner with no wiggle room, and there was nothing in Ben’s look that instilled any confidence in me that he knew a way out. Maybe it was time for me to take control of the situation.

  “Excuse me a sec,” I said to Jordan and got up.

  He frowned at me and mumbled “Sure.”

  I felt his gaze on my back as I made my way over to Ben’s table. When I stood in front of Ben, his entourage sized me up and down, the looks in their eyes an odd mix of arrogance, bemusement and contempt while Ben himself tried his best to pretend I didn’t even exist. I tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

  Some of Ben’s so-called friends cracked up, while others, like Troy Bostick, stared at me with their eyes wide open. Tyler Hicks had food falling out of his mouth, all the while Ben seemed determined to stay in character. Reclining in his chair, a stupid smirk on his face acknowledging—even encouraging—the amusement of his friends, he didn’t even bother to look at me as he said, “What the hell, dude? I’m eating.” There were chuckles and snickers around the table that turned into laughter and hee-haws when he added, “Call my secretary to make an appointment.”

  Tapping the screen of my phone, I opened Instagram and pulled up the photo of our kiss. Making sure no one else could catch a glimpse of the screen, I held it in front of Ben’s face and said, “Now, Ben, or I’m gonna end this stupid game right here and now.”

  He finally looked at me, the smirk on his lips gone. I held his stare. If looks could kill, we’d both dropped dead right on the spot. After a few endless seconds, Ben put his hands on the edge of the table, pushed back his chair and got up, still glaring at me. Then, much to the surprise of his friends who must have been expecting him to punch me in the face, he turned around and walked toward the exit of the cafeteria. Following him, I cast a glance back at Jordan. He was reclining in his chair, his arms crossed, watching me with narrowed eyes.

  Ben was waiting for me in the hallway outside the cafeteria, grinding his teeth, his fists clenched. I was half-expecting him to bite my head off and spit it out before snapping my spine in two, but there were a handful of people loitering nearby, so he grabbed my arm and dragged me down the hall and around the next corner where we were alone. He pushed me against the wall and hissed, “Are you out of your fucking mind? What was that all about?”

  High on adrenaline and probably way too confident for my own good, I held his stare and pushed him back. “I wanted to ask you if you want to go to prom with me. What do you think this is about, Ben? You got the message, and I think it’s about time you start taking this goddamn thing seriously.”

  He was visibly taken aback by my aggressive tone, but he still managed to summon some of his fighting spirit. “Well, what do you want me to do? You want us to do it right here in the hallway?”

  “I want you to grow a pair and stop behaving like a pathetic little bitch. We got ourselves into this huge mess because you were a fucking coward and I was fucking stupid enough to go along with it. Well, guess what, I’m no longer stupid, so how about you stop being such a coward?”

  As Ben opened his mouth to voice his protest, a girl came walking around the corner. We both turned our heads. It was Carla Dondoni. I didn’t have any classes with her this year, but I knew her well enough to know she was a huge Ben fangirl. When she saw him, her face lit up with a bright smile.

  “Oh, hi, Ben!” she said as she approached us, completely ignoring me. She stopped, standing in front of Ben, beaming like the sun and obviously waiting for him to entertain her with his usual wit and charming banter. “What’s up?”

  Without even mustering a smile, he said, “I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

  Carla’s smile froze. She clearly wasn’t used to being brushed off like that, least of all by Ben. “Right, sorry,” she said, casting a reproachful look at me before she scurried away.

  Focusing his attention back on me, Ben opened his mouth again, but I cut him off. “And don’t you ever disrespect me in front of your asshole friends again. You’re the one whose reputation is at stake here, so you better be careful.”

  Before Ben regained his composure enough to respond, I turned on my heel and walked away, floated away high on adrenaline, my heartbeat drowning out my footsteps. I was freaked out by my own courage, but somehow it was one of the best feelings I’d ever had. When I re-entered the buzzing cafeteria, only a few heads turned. They were Ben’s friends, and they looked puzzled not to see Ben come walking back in with broad shoulders, holding my severed head by its hair. I walked back to my table. Jordan was still there. Sucking on his juice box, he looked at me as I plopped down on my chair. He briefly turned his head to look across the room. I assumed he was looking for Ben. When he didn’t find him, he turned back toward me with a questioning look on his face.

  “Don’t ask,” I said.

  He shook his head. “I wouldn’t dare.”

  SEVEN

  My heart stopped when I heard Jordan pound his fist against our front door. I’d had my regrets since I’d asked him if he wanted to hang out because I had no idea what we were supposed to do or talk about. Then I had told myself to get a grip and man up. This was not a date, it was just two guys hanging out after school. I didn’t have a lot of experience with that type of thing, but it supposedly happened all the time and all over the place, so I told myself everything was gonna be fine and we were gonna have a nice afternoon together, only to have my regrets sneak up on me again five minutes later, making me feel nauseous with fear. But it was too late to do anything about it now, because Jordan was hammering his fist against the door.

  “Hey,” I said as I opened the door.

  “Oh, hey. Sorry, I rang the bell but nobody answered, so …”

  I shook my head. “Yeah, no, the doorbell is broken and we haven’t had the time to call an electrician yet.” The truth was we didn’t have the money to pay an electrician, but I didn’t want to tell him that.

  Jordan frowned. “Why would you need an electrician to fix your doorbell? I bet it’s just a broken wire or something.”

  “That’s great and all, but look,” I said, holding up my hands, showing him the palm of one and the back of the other so that both thumbs pointed in the same direction. “Two left hands.”

  He shook his head and chuckled. “You got a screwdriver?”

  “I guess,” I said and shrugged. “But how about you come in before you start demolishing the place?”

  “All right.”

  His hands in his pockets, he squeezed himself past me and I clo
sed the door behind him. We stood there awkwardly for a moment until he glanced up at the bell over the door.

  “Oh,” I said. “Screwdriver, right.” I scurried off into the kitchen, confused about how none of the several dozen scenarios I had envisioned how our day would go had involved him volunteering to do repairs around the house. My dad had left his old toolbox behind when he moved out. When I grabbed it from under the sink, I heard Jordan call out, “And something I can stand on? I can’t reach that high.” With the toolbox in one hand, I grabbed the backrest of a kitchen chair and dragged it back to the front door.

  “Nice,” he said, grabbing the chair and placing it under the doorbell as I put the toolbox on the floor and opened it. He climbed on the chair and waited for me to find a screwdriver and hand it to him.

  “There you go,” I said.

  “Thanks.” He used the screwdriver to pry open the plastic cover, revealing the actual doorbell underneath. “Oh wow,” he said. “Look at that.”

  I looked, but I couldn’t see anything special, just an old fashioned bell with a clapper and some wires. “Uh,” I said in lack of a more eloquent response.

  “This is ancient,” he said admiringly.

  I shrugged. “It came with the house.”

  “Well, the good news is it’s simple. Not this modern crap that you have to throw out when a microchip gets fried.” He started poking around the wiring with the screwdriver.

  “Wait,” I said, “is this safe? Don’t get electrocuted or something.”

  “You see this?” He pointed the screwdriver at a small black box that had two thick wires going in at the bottom and two thinner wires coming out at the top. “That’s the transformer. It turns the 110 volt mains power into 12 volts for the bell. All the wiring you see here is low voltage and totally safe.”

  “All right,” I said, “I’m gonna take your word for it.”

  “And this little screw at the magnet here is supposed to hold the blue wire in place, except …” He poked the wire that was hanging loose in the air.