FEARFUL: Scary Stories of the Evil App

4

It was a nightmare you can't wake up from because it's real life.

It turned out Mozart Junior had a knack for streaming. How was that fair? My brother, the genius, could do no wrong.

"Wow! Look at his numbers," C.J. said over the phone. "He's like the Pied Piper of rat boys."

"Ya think?" I squeezed the receiver. As you know by now, I had to use a landline, like a cave dweller. "Thanks, Captain Obvious."

"Dial down the attitude; this is not my fault. Besides, what can I do?"

"Rory called him Mozfart or Peethoven. That helped."

Rory (AKA Rodrigo Rivera) was my other best friend. If he were here, he'd be in my corner for sure. I really missed him. When C.J., Rory, and I were together, we became unstoppable, like the Triforce. But he was kicking butts and collecting names in a summer camp for gamers while I remained trapped in Sucksville. Wonderful!

"Anyway," I said. "Thoughts on my video?"

"Your dad's song is a banger!"

"Hell, yeah! It's a crime his band's flown under the radar."

"Gross! I can hear you chewing, S," C.J. complained. "Are you eating?"

I was having breakfast, talking to her on the kitchen's wall phone, and editing on my laptop.

"Multitasking," I replied, making a sound between a cough and a choke as I shoveled another spoonful of Cheerios in my mouth.

"Aren't you biting off more than you can chew with all of this?" C.J. joked.

I sounded as sarcastic as possible: "Ah-hah! Ah-hah-hah! Funny." Then it hit me. "Wait. You didn't answer my question."

"Hm?"

"Does my music video suck?"

"Gandalf! Get off of there!" C.J. said away from the phone before getting back to our conversation. "Sorry. My cats have been acting crazy lately."

"Don't change the subject."

Except for the refrigerator humming in the background, there was an awkward silence.

"The song's killer," she said.

"Amen to that."

"Nice editing, but—"

"It blows! I knew it!"

"No." C.J. sighed. "But it's hard to make out what was happening."

"This won't get any likes. I'm deleting it."

"Don't! You're obsessed about the results; see this as grinding for experience points instead."

I glared at the old camcorder next to my laptop and felt an urge to smash it into a million pieces. Ever since I dropped it at the haunted mall, the image quality stunk. Unless I got my hands on a new camera, my entire plan was kaput. What was my plan, you ask? To win the PlayOffs Competition! I would also jump-start Dad's career by making music videos using his songs. If he were more popular, he'd be all smiles. Besides, with the cash prize, I'd help pay some bills and patch up my parents' relationship.

But first, I'd have to sign up for it. I had the form all filled in and everything (including some white lies about my stats). The only thing left? Click on SUBMIT.

"Breakfast o'clock!" Jake said to his iPhone, streaming as he stepped into the kitchen. "Most important meal of the day."

"C.J., gotta go," I said. "Peethoven's walked on stage. Bye."