Sarah's first stop on the Internet was her own blog. She wanted to see if anyone had left any comments about her post on Joss Whedon's upcoming Avengers movie.
"What is this?" she asked herself. She took off her glasses and squinted at the screen through eyes that were now more green than blue. "I can't believe this ..."
The kids around her glanced at her for a second and then turned away. Weirdo, they thought. They didn't notice what was really weird about her - like how her blonde hair was turning light brown.
Sarah put her glasses back on. She wasn't seeing things. The URL of her blog was the same, but its content was irrecognizable. Who hacked my blog? she wondered. Someone had replaced her profile photo with some blue-eyed blonde girl that looked like her but without glasses. That's not a lookalike, she thought. That's me. Morphed or something. Into ... gag ... Sarah "McMillan." Like Jon. He is nice to me, but still ... gross. She couldn't stand to look at photos of "herself" with the popular crowd ... complete with randomly capitalized captions. Why would I ever want to hang out with such low-IQ creatures and write such illiterate drivel about them? The Photoshopping quality is incredible, though. They made me look like a real cheerleader. Low intelligence and artistic skill can go together. As if this counted as art. Blech. Good thing I backed up all my posts. Gotta repost 'em all when I get home.
She clicked on a link to her Twitter account which also belonged to a blonde Sarah "McMillan." They vandalized this too. Who could "they" be? Cybergoths, perhaps. Like Zelda Whitefield. What did I ever do to her? People are so illogical. Can't wait to get out of this zoo and go to a university where I'll be appreciated ... as long as I avoid the frats and sororities. No total escape from party animals and their ilk. Sigh.
Sarah then clicked on her blog's link to her Facebook account and gasped. Her hazel eyes were wide open at the sight of comment after comment from "her" ditzy enemies, er, friends, in the same ungrammatical, spellcheck-deprived style as the verbal rubbish on her other hacked accounts. Everything had been hacked, from her last name - "McMillan" again - to the details in her bio and her photos. Her chess club photos had been replaced by shots of her with far less intelligent company. This "Sarah McMillan" was "BFF" - barf - with Tiffany Sanders and dating Jon's boyfriend Biff, who was the antithesis of her dream man. No, her ideal wasn't Leonard Drullers, no way. She wouldn't marry him. But she missed his presence in her photo album. They did share so many good times together. Knowing that she had backups at home wasn't comforting.
Only revenge could set her at ease. She stood up, oblivious to her shrinking curves and bustline. Her hair was continuing to shorten. She clenched her fists. Forearm muscles tightened beneath a layer of increasingly thick blonde down. Sarah Duncan was going to get even. Her friends would help her. She was the queen of the nerds. None could tamper with her sites and survive. An plan immediately materialized in her mind. First, she would ...
