Tash Hearts Tolstoy by Kathryn Ormsbee

Author:Kathryn Ormsbee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

Fifteen

“We need a new plan.”

I’ve finished my shift at Old Navy, where Jack surprised me by jumping out of a fitting room and demanded I share a late lunch with her in the food court. We’re sitting at a two-seater table next to the mall carousel. I’m eating a veggie pizza. Jack has bought a Philly cheesesteak and a giant Cinnabon roll and is alternating her bites between the two. She’s just stuffed a gooey forkful of cinnamon roll in her mouth when she asks, “What kind of new plan?”

“For how we deal with social media,” I say. “It’s getting draining. And kind of depressing.”

As it turns out, silverspunnnx23 was not an isolated incident. Ever since that post, I’ve noticed more dislikes on our videos, more negative e-mails and comments (Ummmm, where’d the plot go?; Does Kitty do her own makeup, because it shows). It’s hard to tell if the negative stuff has always been there, just less visible, or if silverspunnnx23’s post has opened the proverbial floodgates; it’s racked up a lot of likes and reblogs.

“I’m telling you,” says Jack, “we should hire a personal assistant.”

“Yes, with our huge-ass budget. Come on, we need an actual, executable solution.”

“Uh, okay, eighties businesswoman.” Jack reaches across the table and pats my shoulders frantically. “Oh God, I can already feel the shoulder pads coming in.”

“There is nothing weird about approaching life with a plan.”

“Nothing fun about it, either,” mutters Jack, turning her attention to the cheesesteak. Once her mouth is full, she starts up again. “I don’t see what we can change. We can’t exactly filter out hate. So unless we’re not going to respond to anything online, I say we keep up what we’re doing.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t respond,” I say.

Jack swallows loudly. “Are you kidding? You want us to, what, totally disappear online?”

“No.” The plan formulates even as I’m talking. “We’ll still upload videos. But maybe we should take a week away from weeding through notifications.”

“But when we pick it up again, we’ll have a huge backlog to work through. How does that help?”

“I don’t know,” I say, frustrated. “I just don’t think how we’re doing it now is . . . sustainable. It would help to step back for a week and get some perspective.”

“I mean, fine, whatever. I don’t mind getting a few hours of my life back.”

“Kevin is still strong at least,” I say, dunking one of my pizza crusts into a cup of marinara. “Most people were happy with #KevinThursday. And did you see how someone started a Tumblr fansite?”

“Dude, that’s been up for ages.”

“Well, I’m just saying.” I wad up a grease-soaked napkin and toss it at Jack’s nose. Jack ducks, and the napkin hits the head of someone sitting behind her. The someone turns around. It’s a middle-aged mother eating McDonald’s with her two children. She looks extremely unamused.

“Sorry,” I say. “Sorry, that was for my friend.”

The woman gives me an unflinching glare. It’s faces like this that have me convinced people really did watch gladiators and public executions for fun.

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