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tout , as Lisa might say. It was just a…way of relaying information. Getting the word out. A public service, if you will. Kind of like CNN.
    Also, it’s not like it had never helped anyone. That’s how Jimmy and Liz got together, all the way back in fifth grade, as I ran interference and messages and fruit roll-ups back and forth between them and their groups of friends. And when they’d gone through a rocky patch freshman year, it was precisely me telling Jimmy and Liz what the other person was saying and thinking that got them back together again.
    And people didn’t really think of me as a gossip. That would have to be Marilee Suarez, the biggest gossip in school, who couldn’t keep anything to herself, and was, therefore, the person nobody told anything to. I was different. I was just interested in people’s lives. Like Margaret Mead.
    Still, I felt horrible that my hacker — whoever they were — had made Schuyler’s nose job public. But I’d apologize, and she’d understand that I hadn’t had anything to do with it.
    Since she’d told me to meet “us” at the coffee shop, I assumed she meant Ruth and Lisa too. Glad for the chance to explain to all of them what had happened — and to get their take on the situation — I grabbed the bag of souvenirs I’d bought for them. If they were all as mad as Schuyler had been, it wouldn’t hurt to have presents on hand.
    Then I emptied my purse of the stuff I’d needed in the Galápagos — sunscreen, bug spray, passport, pocket guide to Spanish phrases — that I probably wouldn’t need at Stubbs. I tossed in lip gloss and grabbed my cell from its charger. It wasn’t fully charged yet, but it had enough juice for an emergency call.
    I was almost to my door when I realized that I hadn’t dealt with my profile. I figured that I didn’t have time to delete all the hacked stuff and re-enter my original content, but I could at least prevent the hackerfrom doing more damage. I brought up my settings and clicked on the CHANGE PASSWORD option. Whoever had hacked me must have been able to guess that my password was madmacdonaldsmac! Which I’d thought was pretty obscure, but apparently not enough.
    I changed my password to ih8hackers!! , my screen name to Plz ignore the profile, I was hacked! , and headed downstairs to find my mother in the kitchen, staring fixedly at the stock report on the financial channel.
    â€œHi Mom,” I said softly. Whenever I could get her like this, I jumped at the chance. She tended to get so focused on the fluctuations of the market that I could ask her almost anything and she’d agree. This was how I ended up with permission to inverse pierce my navel, a new cell phone when I’d gotten bored with my other one before the contract had expired, and a one A.M . weekend curfew.
    â€œMmm,” she said, making notes on a piece of paper in front of her.
    â€œI’m going out for coffee with my friends, but I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
    â€œMmm,” she said again, still concentrating on the TV.
    â€œOkay, bye now,” I said, backing out of the kitchen quietly. I hurried out the back door and practically tripped over Travis, who was sitting on the steps that led down to the garage, head in his PSP.
    â€œWatch it,” I snapped at him as I made my way over to my car, a green Jetta named Judy. Technically, her full name was Judy Jetta-son, but my friends refused to let me refer to my car that way in public, citing the extreme dorkiness of it.
    â€œAnything interesting online?” Travis asked. I looked over at him. He was smirking at me.
    â€œWhat?” I said. “What are you talking about? I’m going to be late.”
    â€œJust wondering if you had any…new e-mails or anything. That’s all.” Then he went back to blowing up zombies or whatever he was doing on his PSP.
    Rolling my eyes