Stuffed Read Free Page B

was sort of like a game we were playing. Correction, it was more like a game
I
was playing and she was involuntarily part of.
    I sat down at my desk and shifted some dishes around so I had a place to spread out my books. I had a computer science assignment due the next week. I was almost finished. Technically, when I told my parents I had homework to do, I really didn’t have anything I needed to do right now. They were always good about letting me off chore duty if I had schoolwork to do. There was always something I could do, or pretend to do, to get out of doing dishes.
    Actually, if I continued to accumulate dishes in my room, soon there wouldn’t be dishes in the kitchen to wash. At last count I had twenty-seven different plates, bowls, cups and mugs spread around the room. Eachcontained different types and quantities of food and drink. Some of them had been around long enough to develop into interesting little science experiments. I was fascinated by the variety of colors and shapes of mold and fungi that could be created. I considered this to be my version of low-maintenance indoor gardening. Some people grew roses. I grew things that might eventually develop into a new antibiotic. The only downside was that a couple were starting to send out a real smell. Certainly not roses. Maybe I should consider taking some of them upstairs the next time I went.
    That would make my mother happy. The other night she’d asked my dad—when I was within earshot—if he knew where all the dishes “
were disappearing to.
” He said he had “
no idea
.” Give me a break; we all knew they were hiding in my room.
    I grabbed the converter and clicked on my TV. I raced through the channels, looking for what I wanted. There it was—channel 47—
The Simpsons
. Instantly I recognized the episode, but then again, I recognized all the episodesbecause I’d seen them all at least a dozen times. With all the new specialty channels available, I was waiting to subscribe to
The Simpsons Network
.
    In some ways I practically had that. If you searched through all the channels, there seemed to be a
Simpsons
episode somewhere almost all the time.
    I grabbed a second remote—the one for my stereo—and it came to life. I clicked on a CD and the music started with a loud thud, startling me. I adjusted the sound. It couldn’t be too loud or I couldn’t hear
The Simpsons
at the same time. Somehow the rap lyrics—one of my favorites from Sage Francis—worked well with the scenes on the screen. It almost seemed like Bart was listening to the music as he sat in his bedroom with his broken leg, looking through his telescope. I looked up at my window. The curtains were open and I had the bizarre thought that maybe Bart was listening to Sage Francis while looking in my window.
    I wiggled the mouse and the computer screen came to life. I opened up the filewhere I was writing my computer science assignment. Next I opened up the textbook to the right place. I was almost finished. All I needed to do was write one more point and then do the conclusion. Of course “almost finished” and “happily finished” were different. The project was about the use of e-mail for mass communication. I had all the technical stuff, the textbook stuff, but it was dry and boring. I needed to liven it up, but I didn’t know how.
    My fingers sat on the keys, but nothing seemed to be flowing into them. I couldn’t think of what to write. I didn’t seem to be able to focus. Then I realized what was missing.
    I ran the pointer down to the bottom of the screen and double-clicked on the MSN icon. The screen opened up to reveal my Hotmail address and a second line for my password. I typed it in. S…h…a…d…o…w. Shadow, the name of my dog. I’d read somewhere that kids, pets and birthdays were the first three things a hacker tried when he was figuring out how to break into your