in Vista High’s tiny school library, scarcely able to believe her eyes. Ten million, six hundred thousand, three hundred and twenty-three—no, make that twenty-four—views of her dragon video since she’d uploaded it—a mere ten hours before. She couldn’t believe it; people from all over the country—all over the world—all logging in and watching her little home movie.
And commenting too. While some professed amazement that such a creature had been caught on tape—smack dab in the middle of Texas, no less—others were a bit more…skeptical…to say the least, posting the wildest conspiracy theories on how she had managed to doctor the footage before uploading. From comments insisting the dragon was nothing more than a tiny insect up against a studio green screen to those who suggested an entirely computer-generated beast, ripped from the popular Fields of Fantasy video game, the theories went on and on. Some of the accusations were so complicated, in fact, she was pretty sure that even a master CGI expert at LucasArts would find them difficult to replicate.
“Whatcha looking at?”
Startled, Scarlet jumped at the voice. Her hands flew to the keyboard, guiltily alt-tabbing out of Internet Explorer and back to the Civil War essay she was supposed to be working on for her American history class, until she realized it was only Rebekah.
Her best friend leaned over the chair, tossing a lock of bright blue hair over her shoulder as she eyed the computer screen with mock suspicion. “Did I catch you looking at porn again, young lady?” she scolded. “How many times do I have to tell you? There’s no sex in study hall.”
Scarlet snorted. “It was YouTube, thank you very much.”
Her friend tapped a finger to her chin. “YouTube, huh?” she repeated. “Funny, I was quite certain that was on the prohibited website list at Vista Memorial High.”
“Not if you’re using it for research.”
“Right. Research.” Rebekah gave her a knowing look. “So what you’re saying is if I were to, say, hit alt-tab on your computer right this very second, I’ll be taken to some kind of Civil War reenactment relative to your history assignment? As opposed to, say….a Two Sad Boys concert video or other such non-educational drivel?”
Scarlet rolled her eyes. “Um, sure. As long as you don’t require any proof whatsoever of that statement—then yes. Yes, you would.”
Rebekah pounced on the keyboard. Scarlet tried to stop her, grabbing it back, giggling. As they wrestled over the keys, the librarian at the other end of the room gave them a nasty look, forcing Scarlet to reluctantly surrender.
Rebekah let out a triumphant cheer, followed by an overly dramatic alt-tab—just to rub it in. “Now, let’s see what you’re really trying to—”
She stopped short, her eyes lighting up as she stared at the screen. “Oh, dude, I saw this this morning!” she crowed, hitting play on the video to start it up again. “This thing is amazing. I mean, I’m sure it’s totally doctored and stuff. But it’s so freaking cool. Watch this—here’s where the dragon spreads its wings and…” She trailed off, catching Scarlet’s face. “What?”
Scarlet debated on whether or not to come clean to her friend. “I’ve seen it,” she admitted at last.
“And what, you’re not totally blown away? This amazing, once-in-a-lifetime video is just Tuesday to your sad and world-weary teenage heart?”
“No. It’s cool,” Scarlet corrected. “It’s really cool. It’s just…”
“You think it’s fake.”
She shook her head. “Actually, I know it’s real.”
“And you became a professional video authenticator when?”
Scarlet decided to go for it. “When the video in question came from my own cell phone.”
“What are you talking about? This video was clearly uploaded by…” Rebekah scanned the screen for a user name. “Scarlet-with-the-lead pipe-in-the-library.” She frowned. “Oh.”
Scarlet gave
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley