Free Gone Too Far by Natalie D. Richards

programmed to power on together. Maybe a newscast was launched at the wrong time. There are even more people in the classrooms at the end of the hall. In a math room on the right, people are laughing.
    Wait a minute. Is this about Jackson? It isn’t what I was expecting, but then a particularly loud burst of laughter draws me to the math room. I spot Connor inside. As riveted as he is to the screen, I’m starting to think this might be it. I step inside, spotting more familiar faces. Aimee Johnston, Isaac Cooper, Nick Patterson, and— bingo . Jackson Pierce.
    Connor catches my eye and points to my camera before giving me a thumbs-up. He mouths “Lucky” to me, like this was all just random chance. If only he knew.
    â€œThis is genius,” Isaac says, shaking his head at the TV. He looks over at Jackson, who’s scrambling, searching the tables.
    â€œWhere’s the damn remote, Cooper?” Jackson’s laugh is weird. Like a bark. Or a cough.
    There are probably fifteen kids circled around the screen, everyone huddled in tight except for me and, now, Jackson, who’s walked away from the rest of them. He’s standing against the back wall of the room, arms crossed tightly and something that isn’t even similar to a smile stretched on his lips.
    Whatever this is, it’s about him .
    I check the TV. Not a newscast—way too grainy. Like a home video or surveillance tape. Yeah, it’s security footage from our high school—the gym, some of the classrooms, even the cafeteria. We all know about the cameras installed last year, but I don’t think any of us thought they kept the tapes.
    The first scene shows Jackson sashaying, limp-wristed, past Tim Corning, one of our soccer stars who announced that he was gay this past spring. The next scene is in the cafeteria, highlighting Jackson again. He’s gesturing wildly at his crotch behind Marlow’s back.
    â€œGod, you’re such a pig,” Marlow says from somewhere in that tight crowd. She sounds way too pleased about it.
    Jackson answers with a flirty smirk, and Marlow’s lips curl in a way that makes me think of a cat with a dish of cream. It also makes me wonder why Nick, who’s looking right at her, doesn’t seem bothered in the least.
    But then the screen changes again, and Jackson’s slamming his fist into a locker, looking like a pissed-off bull on speed, though there’s not another soul in the hallway. A sprinkle of awkward laughter filters through the group, with a softly muttered, “Nice temper tantrum.”
    The scenes flash one after the next. The whole thing is an unbelievably well-edited mash-up tape of Jackson Pierce being an absolute jerk. This is nothing like what I expected.
    It’s so much better.
    Feeling a surge of vengeance for Stella, I raise my camera, slinking into the farthest corner of the room. My breath goes still in my lungs. I adjust the lens and begin.
    My shutter snaps over and over, capturing images quickly. Jackson’s red face, tendons straining in his neck, the television screen, the kids laughing, and then the same kids pointing when the scene changes again. Isaac juggling the remote to keep it out of Jackson’s reach. I capture image after image, but all I see is Stella.
    Mrs. Durmond walks in and demands the controller before she really even looks at the screen. Everyone gasps, I’m guessing because of Mrs. Durmond. I’m wrong. They’re still looking at the screen, but it’s obvious no one likes this joke. I drop my camera to see why. In this scene, Jackson’s imitating Chelsea Timber’s awkward, shuffling gait down the hallway.
    Apparently, even Marlow and her ilk have a no-fly zone. And a girl who struggles to walk because of cerebral palsy is on the wrong side of the line. Especially Chelsea, who has harbored a well-known crush on Jackson since junior high.
    Girls look at Jackson with revulsion, and Nick looks at