Knowing Anonymous

Just a rag tag group of teens

"Shit Tara, they called you?" Dylan asked, we were locked in the men's room. He looked way more upset than I thought he would.
"Maybe you're right, maybe it's a prank." I said, trying to ignore what we were both thinking.
"A prank that's causing national outrage! Tara they're doing some serious hacking, I mean how did they call you from my number? Why?"
"I have no idea." I admitted, I really hadn't expected him to be so worried. "But what happened to your teenager theory?"
He ran his hands through his hair. "I realized their uprising is actually happening." He lowered his voice and glanced at the door "And it doesn't look like it's the one we wanted.
I nodded. This was nothing like I imagined, I mean hurting innocent kids? It didn't seem to make any since, how would that gain them support... it didn't make any sense.
Dylan got a weird look in his eye. "Tara, you said the second time you called an older guy answered?"
"Yeah," I said "Do you think it was random? I mean I doubt Anonymous would let me call them."
"Maybe." His eyes flicked back and forth. I suddenly was hit with how bizarre this all was- getting anonymous calls (in more ways than one), talk of a revolution, and now trusting this (cute) guy I'd known for a day.
"Tara." He said. "I'm gonna need your phone."
"What?" I asked, "why?"
"Maybe I can find something. I mean, I am pretty good with computers." I nodded.

  Sitting through the daily progress report with Cuomo was torture, even if he did have a salt and pepper charm going for him, sparkling blue eyes, and a smile that made you feel like you actually mattered in this infinite universe. But at the moment, all I could think about was how I'd suddenly been made extremely aware of a revolution, and how in that same breath it'd been taken away from me.
How could Anonymous do something like this? I wondered. I mean I didn't know the guy, or guys, but they must've contacted me for a reason. I hated to think that what had seemed for a second like my way out of this hell-hole was actually the bad guy.
Dylan was sitting right next to me this time, and nudged my arm. He'd written on his notepad:
Phone is a no go. Untraceable.

I sighed. Apparently a little too loudly because Cuomo paused to look at me pointedly. I mouthed a sorry.
Dylan patted my hand with his pen, a gesture that I think was meant to be reassuring. I hadn't really thought of how awful everything was until I thought I had an exit. I kind of wanted to deck Anonymous for giving me a false sense of hope.

After the meeting, Dylan and I walked down to Capital Cafe, where we both opted for a cold brew, but Dylan got his with sweet cream and I drank mine black. It was 4pm and a beautiful day, but the streets were lined unusually early. People held conflicting signs, some condemning the government, some reading things like; Justice against Anon. I glanced towards Dylan, who definitely had noticed the signs.
"What do we do now?" I asked. I didn't think we could go back to ignoring everything.
Dylan shrugged. "Something tells me that if they called you once they'll contact you again."
"What would we do with that?" I still didn't understand what Anonymous thought they could use me for. Or why they'd think I'd want to join a revolution that condones beating up little kids.
"Go undercover and see what they're all about, maybe their side is still better than this." He said gesturing toward the national guard lining the streets, waiting for curfew. I shivered.
"Yeah, it's not hard to beat."

I let Dylan walk me to my apartment this time, because I was a tad bit freaked out. As we neared my building, I had a growing feeling that we couldn't sit back and wait. I thought back to something Anonymous had said.
  "Dylan, have you ever stayed out past curfew?"
   He shook his head, "I'm always home early, have you?"
  "No, but I think it's time we change that." I explained my idea and Dylan reluctantly agreed, following me into my apartment.