We Make Mayhem [boyxboy]

Chapter One

It was a bright morning in August, when my parents told me they would be the fifth couple on our street to get a divorce that year. 

The kitchen was full of late-summer sunshine. Dad had done all the cooking, as he always did on weekend mornings. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, and Vegemite for the toast—which only Dad would eat, in tribute to his homeland. Usually Mom and I would make jokes about Australians as soon as Dad put the jar on the table, but this time, he set it down in front of Mom and she just stared it down.

"Who died?" I joked, but she still didn't crack a smile.

"No one died," she said. "Sit down, Riley. We have something to tell you."

I sat down. Dad piled a couple pancakes onto her plate, but she acted like he didn't exist.

"Before I say anything," Mom said, "I want you to remember that we love you very much."

My syrupy mouthful turned to mush as I chewed. As soon as I realized what she was saying, I was gripped by the urge to vomit all over the table.

"You're getting a divorce," I said. "Fuck, you're actually getting a divorce. Holy shit."

Today, of all days. The day I was leaving for San Francisco with my girlfriend, Chloe, to lead a march in defense of real love, against the creator of the app that was destroying it. I couldn't get over the irony.

Then I put two and two together.

"Which one of you downloaded Temptr?" I asked.

"Riley, sit down," Dad said.

I was on my feet, pacing the length of the kitchen before I even realized it.

"Which one of you downloaded that fucking app?" I demanded.

"Neither of us looked at Temptr," Dad said.

"I don't believe you. The divorce rate has jumped to seventy-eight percent in the eight months since that goddamn app went live. You know the stories, you've listened to our fucking podcast. How could you do it? How could you be so stupid?"

There was weakness in his eyes.

I sat back down. The bacon, which smelled so delicious two minutes ago, now made my stomach turn. I couldn't look at Dad. I couldn't look at Mom, either, now that I knew it wasn't blankness in her eyes.

It was the shock of betrayal.

"Let's not talk about Temptr," Dad said. "That's not important. What's important is that we're still going to support you through senior year, we're still going to—"

"I don't care," I said. "I can't believe this. After all Chloe and I have been saying, you still downloaded that app? Even knowing the effect it's having on marriages and relationships, you still thought it would be a good idea to let Decker Lord steal your data while giving you the name of your 'soulmate'? As if that's not total bullshit?"

I got up from the table, my chair squealing against the old wood floor. I ignored Dad's calling my name as I pulled on my Converse high-tops and stormed out to my car.

It was unfair, how beautiful the worst morning of my life was. The sun soaked everything, streaming down through the trees of Mathers Place, and it was only getting started. Our cul-de-sac sat at the bottom of the wealthiest neighborhood in Canada, full of little old houses whose little old inhabitants bought them long enough ago that they can actually afford to live here.

As I drove away, I peered through the foliage at each house whose owners were divorcing because one of them downloaded Temptr, an app that purported to tell users the name of their "soulmate." Surprise, surprise: none of those soulmates turned out to be their spouse.

The Wilsons hadn't yet figured out the details of their separation, but Mr. Jenkins, Mrs. Miller, and Mrs. Chen were now living alone in the houses they used to share with their spouses. Those houses looked lonely and sad, and so many old fixtures were gone. Mrs. Jenkins' purple Jeep was missing from their driveway. Mr. Chen's garden had grown over with weeds. Mr. Miller wasn't around to fix the broken drain pipe that splashed rain water all over the side of what used to be his house, and now the siding was dingy and dirty.

And now, since Mom had inherited the house from her parents, Dad would be missing, too.

I sped to Chloe's house, far too early: Chloe was still in an eight-thirty interview with a podcaster based in London, and we weren't leaving for San Fran until three o'clock, but I couldn't stay in my own house knowing what I knew now. I waved through the front window at her parents, who were enjoying their morning coffee like morally upstanding people. They were sitting at the table, chatting, sipping coffee, laughing, like my parents would probably never do again.

I let myself into Chloe's room through her sliding glass door to the backyard. She sat at her desk, headphones on. She gave me a quick smile.

"Mmm," Chloe said into her microphone. "I agree—we just don't know enough about Decker Lord to trust him. There's no transparency with any of his companies, not Temptr, not Edison Motor Company, nothing. That's my fundamental issue with him. He hasn't proven himself to be trustworthy."

On her screen, the interviewer was talking with his hands. Chloe watched him sympathetically, nodding every few seconds. A line formed between her eyebrows. I loved watching her in interview mode, but hearing her talk about Decker Lord was almost too much. This fucking guy was taking over my life.

"Well, thank you for having me on, John," Chloe finally said. "I really appreciate it. Okay, talk to you later... bye."

She pulled her massive headphones off her head, unplugged her microphone, and closed her laptop. "Oof, finally. Sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's fine, I know I'm early." I pulled her down onto the love seat. "How'd the interview go?"

"Good, aside from the fact that the guy's been researching Decker Lord for three years and still knows almost nothing about him." She groaned. "Sometimes I don't even think Lord is a real person."

"He isn't. He's a demon."

Chloe laughed. "Sounds like something I would say."

That could have been the perfect entry point. I didn't usually join in the name-calling of Decker Lord, so it would be the perfect time to tell her, "hey, yeah, so my dumbass father did the dumbass thing and looked at the fucking app like a total dumbass and now my mom is divorcing him."

I didn't want to think about Temptr anymore than I had to. I was sick of it, but we were leaving on a whirlwind trip to San Francisco to protest Temptr that night. If I was tired of Temptr now...

"But hey," Chloe said. "Tomorrow, he's going down. Right?"

I forced a smile, but soon it became real. She was right. I was going to get my revenge. As soon as we landed, we were going to record a show with legendary podcaster James Roth, my hero. Tomorrow we were leading a protest march to Temptr's headquarters. We were taking real action.

Tomorrow, Decker Lord would meet his match.