Free Struck by Lightning: The Carson Phillips Journal by Chris Colfer Page B

didn’t think much of it, a freshman slut under Remy’s rule perhaps. However, whoever it was left uptight opinionated comments on almost every page.
    “Why do the lunch ladies need to be at back-to-school night? Can’t they just stay in the kitchen?” was one of the many obnoxious posts. “I hate lunch ladies more than I hate war!”
    Could Remy be pulling a Voltaire? Over the weekend, while I was thinking of ways to blackmail Remy, I messaged YearbookGirl69 privately to test out this theory under the user name BadBoy2012.

    “Hey, sexy,” I messaged. “Love reading your thoughts on the CHS site. We think alike.”
    A few minutes later, she responded. “OMG thanks. I’m so glad some1 noticed LOL.”
    I waited a couple of minutes more, playing hard-to-get, seeing if she’d write more.
    “Who is this LOL?” YearbookGirl69 asked.
    “I like to keep my identity a secret; I’m like Batman,” I replied. “But with better abs.”
    “Hott! Me 2! I like the mystery LOL,” she sent. I don’t know what the hell was so funny. Was she seriously laughing out loud every time? “Can I get a pic of those abs?” she asked.
    I copied and pasted a picture of Taylor Lautner’s torso from the Internet (I pray no one ever finds that Google image search in my web history).
    “@Q#$TWERYJ#$%&!!!” is what I got next. “Are U even real?”
    “Very,” I said, and left it at that.
    Now, today, while I was in English and the class had their laptops out, I decided to see if I was right about Remy. I was sitting a few seats behind her and had a clear view of her computer.

    BadBoy2012 messaged YearbookGirl69. A window popped up on Remy’s computer screen. Bingo!
    “What are you wearing?” BadBoy2012 asked.
    I saw Remy’s neck blush.
    “Practically nothing,” Remy responded as YearbookGirl69.
    “Send me a pic!” BadBoy2012 said.
    Remy looked around the classroom to see if anyone was watching her. I ducked behind my laptop when she glanced my way. I looked back and saw her retrieving a photo from her documents and attach it to the instant-message conversation.
    A photo of Remy half-naked with a “sexy face” popped up on my computer screen. It was enough to turn a nun into an atheist. I shut my laptop, ran out of the classroom, and vomited into the nearest trash can. I’m being dramatic—I didn’t vomit but I did dry-heave.
    “Mr. Phillips, are you all right?” my English teacher asked when I returned to class.
    “I’m afraid I’m changed for life,” I said, and went back to my seat. Remy rolled her eyes at me as I passed her. She had no idea what she had just done to herself!
    After school I found Remy sitting on a bench alone.I sat down next to her. I couldn’t make eye contact. I’m not sure I ever will again.
    “Can I help you, Carson?” she asked rudely.
    I slyly handed her a large manila envelope. Inside she found printed copies of the conversations between BadBoy2012 and YearbookGirl69.
    She went silent for a good minute and a half. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the papers start to shake in her tight, petrified grip. She looked at me as if I had told her that her father had had a successful sex change while she was at school.
    “You’re BadBoy2012?” she whimpered.
    “I can’t even look at you anymore,” I said. “Not that it was easy before.”
    I took a bright yellow flyer out of my back pocket and handed it to her. I left before she could open it. The flyer said:
YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO ATTEND A
MANDATORY MEETING IN THE JOURNALISM
CLASSROOM FRIDAY AFTER SCHOOL.
    I had to make sure it was subtle in case any of my victims tried turning me in, but if Remy’s horror was any indication, that wouldn’t be a problem.

    I stopped by the boys’ bathroom, figuring I could kill two birds with one stone. Unsurprisingly, I saw Nicholas and Scott come out of it at roughly the same time. They must have had a quickie.
    “Hey, Siegfried,” I said to Nicholas, and handed him a yellow flyer.