As I dragged myself into his classroom, he was scratching the chalk against the board in that harsh way he has, like he’s punishing the chalk. Sometimes the chalk screams in pain and we all get punished. I glanced at the board. (Cue the Jaws theme music.) Just when I thought it was safe to go to school and not hear about my mother. Mr. Click wrote the words Manifest Destiny on the board.

I can’t wait for the jokes to start up again. “Look, it’s Destiny’s Child!” Ha-ha. Not.

Mom was late last night—this time a double shift at work—again. Which begs the question: why did Destiny even bother having a child? These days I’ve spent more time with a breath strip in my mouth than with her.

I can’t honestly say I want to spend more time with her, though. I mean, yeah, that would be a start, but it doesn’t really help if I can’t have a decent conversation with her that doesn’t involve: (a) ridiculous rules I’ve broken, (b) hypocritical bullshit, or (c) the words Oprah says …

After banging out some drivel for my paper on Manifest Destiny, I pulled up a game development site I’ve been using and navigated to the programming area, bringing up my game.

The beauty of game development is that whatever you don’t like, you can change. You build the world. You make the rules.

Like a runner with her precious high, I let my fingers take over in a way that moves my brain so fast it actually becomes calm. The endorphins fill me, and my mind turns into pure melody, screaming guitar riffs, and pulsing crescendos. All because of a keyboard and some lines of code. This is precisely why I have to keep my obsession a secret. I mean, really, how geeky can one girl get?

Within seconds I’m lost to the keystrokes. And then, without warning, my concentration is shattered by an IM.

shaym: Kori?

I paused, saving my game. You learn the hard way to do that as often as possible. I thought about how I wanted to respond to shaym—as myself or as Kori.

I remembered her comment about the fake ID, the doubt in her voice that I could, even in name and address only, pretend to be her. And here I had the perfect opportunity. It was tempting. Very tempting.

With fingers trembling above the keyboard, I took a deep breath.

My heart rate sped with temptation. I willed my fingers to stop shaking.