My Brilliant Idea (And How It Caused My Downfall) by Stuart David Read Free Book Online

wanted. I can worry about the rest of it later. I hold my breath and click on his picture and get ready to see what pointers I can find to help my campaign.
    The first thing I notice is 132 friends. Reasonable. Just enough to make sure he’s not some kind of loner who’ll try to attach himself to me, but not enough to suggest he might be a major freakoid. I go through his profile, looking for more clues. Likes: “Football, reading, Xbox.” Interests: “Science, politics, astronomy.”
Politics?
For his bio he’s written, “I am in the school science club and the school debating club. I live with my mum and dad and my dog, Alfie. He makes me laugh.” He’s listed a few weird books and films that I’ve never heard of, and in his albums it’s just the usual rubbish from birthday parties and summer holidays. There doesn’t appear to be anything I can use at all.
    From his date of birth I work out that I was right about him being in the year below me, but I don’t feel good about having become his friend just to find that out. And then it gets worse: I realize he’s sent me a message. I think about turning the computer off and pretending none of it ever happened. Then I remember I’ve still got his friends to go through, so I do my best to forget the message and click on the bit to see all 132 members of his sad posse. The first thing I notice is that Elsie Green isn’t in there. The second thing I notice is that I am now. A good proportion of the randoms in there are all called Thornton. I’d say about sixty-five percent. Some of them are quite old, and some are very young. I scan through the rest, and I’m relieved to find out there are three faces I know. Debbie Winter, Chris Yates, and Izzy Goodwin. None of them are friends in my profile, but I know them all a bit. None of them are weirdoes, which gives me a little sliver of hope that Drew might not be a weirdo too. While I’m still in that frame of mind, and before anything else can happen to change it, I quickly click on my inbox to see his message.
    â€œHi, Jackdaw,” it says, “I’ve seen you around. Glad to be your friend. What’s up?”
    What’s
up?
Really? I put the whole thing out of my mind and decide I don’t need to answer just now. Maybe I don’t need to answer at all. I turn my attention back to his three friends that I know and start to give them all some serious consideration.
    Debbie Winter and Izzy Goodwin are both in my history class, with the Sergeant. Debbie even got the book once, and Izzy rides this kind of bright green bike with strange ribbon things on the handlebars. None of that seems like it can help me, and there’s nothing else I can remember about them that can help much either. But Chris Yates . . . He’s in some serious trouble at school just now, with a lot more still to come.
    I go on for a quick look at his profile, and I find it’s wide open. The opposite of Drew’s. I can see his wall and his info, and from his wall I can even get into his albums. He has no security at all. His bio says, “I’m a bohemian and a freethinker. Life is for living.” Maybe that’s why he hasn’t set up any blocks on his page.
    I spend a lot of time going through everything, particularly his albums. He’s got a ton of them. All kinds of stuff. And each one has got a ton of different pictures in it. There are old boats and new cars and lots of foreign cities. Even his party pictures look more interesting than everybody else’s. And then, in about the twentieth album, quite far into it, I find five pictures that change the game, that probably make becoming friends with Drew worth it after all. In my suddenly jazzed state I even write a reply to Drew. “Just chillin’,” I say. “Glad to be your friend too. What’s up with you?”
    Then I instantly regret it.
    I could have sent him a