The Enemy Hypothesis: A Brazos High Novella

by Sparling, Amy

  * * *

  Jules drops her phone on the coffee table and then falls backward onto the couch, putting her hands over her face. “This is way too much drama for one day!” she says, chuckling. “I’m going crazy checking this app.”

  “Yeah, there’s no reason to even check it right now,” her boyfriend Jake says. He also puts his phone on the coffee table. “The scores are changing too fast.”

  The three of us are hanging out at Jules’ house after school, and while I kind of want to get away from all talk of the app, it’s also impossible. This is just too exciting and crazy all at once. Over the course of the day, my score went from #4 to #32 and then back up to #7. It’s super nerve-wracking.

  Jules blows her bangs out of her eyes then reaches for the TV remote. “Okay, let’s just drop all talk of this app for now. But, we are all agreed that Abby is going to win this car, right?”

  Jake grins at me as he throws his arm around Jules. “Totally. Right now some freshman is in first place but you can easily knock her down,” he says. “Freshmen aren’t even old enough to drive.”

  I roll my eyes. “I can’t win this car if we talk trash about other innocent students.”

  Jake laughs. “No one will know.” His eyes get wide and he looks at his phone. “Wait, do you think the app is listening?”

  “Holy crap, I hope not!” Jules says. “But… just to be safe…” She takes all three of our phones and moves them to the other room. When she returns, she nods once, hands on her hips. “Solved that problem.”

  I laugh. “I’m pretty sure something like that would be illegal?”

  “You never know,” Jake says. Jules sits back down on the couch and puts her feet in his lap. “Oh, one thing I forgot to tell you, Abby. I was researching this app online and people from other schools said that the algorithm works best in secret… like, if you do one small good thing for someone and no one else sees it, you get more points when they give you a kudos. If all thirty kids in your class give you a kudos at once, it counts less. So it’s better to be a good person privately than to be all show-off-y about it.”

  “Good to know,” I say.

  Jules finds a good show on the TV menu. “Showtime!” she singsongs.

  One good thing about my best friend’s new boyfriend is that they never make me feel like a third wheel, even though that’s exactly what I am. I like hanging out with them, and these after school meetups to watch Hulu are the most fun part of my day. I can only spare about an hour of friend time before I need to get back to help my sisters with their homework, so I need to make it count.

  As soon as I get home, homework is the last thing on everyone’s mind. Word got around our town quickly, and my sisters and Abuela already know about the app and the chance to win a new car. We all sit around the dinner table and they grill me for details.

  “That’s all there is to know,” I say, spooning more salsa on my plate. “We just have to be really nice all month and then see who wins.”

  “You better win!” Maria says. “I’m so sick of riding the school bus.”

  I roll my eyes. “There’s no way I’ll win,” I say, because I don’t want them to get their hopes up. It’s bad enough that I’m secretly desperately hoping I’ll win. “Too many people want this and everyone is trying really hard.”

  “I would vote for you if I could,” Abuela says. She reaches across the table and pats my arm.

  “Thank you,” I say, smiling at her. I kept my phone in my room so I wouldn’t be tempted to check it during dinner. But as of an hour ago, I had slipped down to number 53. This sucks. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to come up with a plan to do a lot of nice things for a lot of people. It’s only day one, after all. I’m not giving up that easily.

  Six

  MARK

  The volunteer manager at the Brazos Animal Shelter is old enough to be my grandma, yet she looks like she could kick my butt if she wanted to. Her name is Nora. She’s muscular, about five feet tall, and she smells like coffee.

  “What made you want to volunteer?” she asks as she glances over the volunteer form I just filled out. “I see you’re not a member of the animal club like most teenagers who come around here.”

  I can’t tell her the truth—that I’m trying to win a free car by sucking up to the Animal Club which is our largest school club and they all volunteer here after school—so I just give her a smile. “I love dogs and my parents won’t let me get one,” I say. “I thought it would be nice to play with some shelter dogs.”

  “Wonderful,” she says, seeming to believe my answer. I mean, I do like dogs. And my parents also hate dogs, so it’s not a total lie. “Let me show you around.”

  I spent all of last night thinking of ways to get more kudos this month and volunteering sounds like a great idea. The Animal Club is always posting flyers around campus, asking people to volunteer to help the shelter dogs. I like dogs, so I plan to come here every chance I can so people can see me helping out and then give me kudos. Volunteer kudos have to count more for the algorithms than the kudos you get for giving pretty girls compliments, right?

  Nora shows me around the facility and then tells me I can play with any dog that doesn’t have a red sticker on their chart. The red sticker dogs are aggressive and can only be handled by more experienced volunteers. I try not to make it obvious that I’m looking around the kennels, trying to see if anyone I know from school is here to see me doing this good deed. In fact, it’s probably best if I don’t make eye contact or small talk with anyone. That way people will see me minding my own business while volunteering. That’s bound to get me a ton of kudos.

  It’s hard to choose a dog because I want all of them to have fun, so I just pick randomly and promise myself I’ll come back here as often as it takes to have time to play with all of them. I open the metal kennel door and kneel down to the small brown and white mutt in front of me. He’s wagging his tail excitedly. “You ready to play?” I say, reaching over and letting him smell my hand the way Nora had told me to do. He’s friendly and seems to be trusting of me, which is a good sign.

  I take him outside to the large fenced in backyard. Nora said I’m allowed to run and play with him out here, using whatever toys they have available. Visiting hours end at seven when the dogs have to come inside to eat dinner, so I have three hours to earn some mega-kudos and climb up the scoreboard. I grab a tennis ball, but this little guy seems happier to lick my hands than to play.

  One of the employees has several large dogs playing in one area of the yard, so I walk my little dog around the corner of the building. Right as I turn the corner, I see the last person I expect.

  Abby Pena.

  Her nostrils flare when she recognizes me. “What are you doing here?”

  “Same thing you are,” I say, tossing the ball toward my borrowed dog. He chases after it, his tail wagging the whole time.

  “But you’ve never been here before,” she says, putting her hands on her hip. Two scruffy dogs play tug-of-war with a toy, but when she talks, they stop and look up at her. “I don’t know what you think you’re trying to do, but I’m not giving you any kudos.”

  I snort. “I’m not giving you any, either.”

  She quickly ignores me, walking away and calling the two dogs to follow her. I watch her leave, taking a deep breath to settle my nerves. What are the odds that Miss Perfect also volunteers here? Pretty good odds, I guess. She is in the top ten of our scoreboard, after all. And it’s only day two, so clearly she frequently does good things to have gotten so much early kudos from our teachers.

  With a groan, I try to forget about her while I play fetch with my dog. After he’s all worn out and happy from the attention, I take him back and get another dog from the kennels. Besides the employees and Abby, I don’t see anyone else here for the first hour.

  Where the heck is the rest of the Animal Club? It’s pointless being here if no one can see me and give me kudos. I really want to leave, go somewhere more public where
people can see me and vote for me on the app. But Abby is still here, sitting under a tree in the far corner of the lot while she plays with a few dogs, and I can’t bring myself to leave if she’s still here. So long as she’s doing a good thing, so will I.

  The next dog I play with just wants to sit in the sun and relax. The fur around his snout is turning gray so I’m guessing he’s an older dog. Nora brings me two younger dogs to play with while the old one is enjoying laying by himself in the grass. These two girls are part lab, and they’re only a year old so they’re full of energy.

  They like chasing after a ball when I throw it but they don’t like giving the ball back to me. I don’t even know how much time has passed because I’m having way more fun than I thought I would. Maybe those Animal Club students are onto something. This place rocks.

  Before I realize it, Nora is waving me inside because it’s the dogs’ dinner time. Even though only one Brazos High student was here to witness me doing volunteer work (and she won’t give me any kudos), I’m glad I came. Playing with dogs does a lot to heal stress. I feel happier than I have since before Gran died.

  As I’m walking out to my car, I notice Abby sitting on the bus stop bench down the road. It’s only seven o’clock and it’s not fully dark outside yet, but I still worry about her sitting there all alone in a busy part of town. I should drive away and head home but she hasn’t noticed me yet, so I see no reason to leave. I’ll just sit here and keep an eye on her.

  When the bus arrives I pull onto the road behind it since it’s heading in the same direction as my house. I could get in the next lane and zoom around the clunky old bus, but I don’t.

  I don’t know, I guess I’m curious about Abby. All of my friends have cars. I kind of forgot that some people don’t. I can see why she wants to win this contest so badly.

  A few stops later, Abby gets off the bus at a busy intersection. There’s no way she lives in a shopping center, and now my Spidey-senses are on high alert. Is she going to volunteer somewhere else to get even more kudos from our classmates? Ugh.

  Curiosity gets the best of me and I pull into the parking lot and watch her walk toward a dance studio. I know, I know, this kind of makes me some kind of creeper, but I can’t help myself. If she’s volunteering to teach dance class or something, I can’t compete. I have no dancing skills whatsoever. She’ll win this contest much easier than I can.

  I park in an inconspicuous location and watch as she walks into the studio. It’s hard to see through the studio’s windows, but I’m betting a ton of high school girls are in there and they will all be more than happy to help boost Abby’s Un-bully score.

  A minute later Abby emerges from the studio with three girls trailing along beside her. They all have the same dark shade of hair, but they’re wearing sparkly dance outfits. The smallest one talks animatedly to Abby while they walk back to the bus stop. I didn’t like the idea of Abby sitting alone at the bus stop, and I really don’t like the idea of her and three much younger girls sitting there. My lips press together and my fingers grip the steering wheel. I glance in my backseat. It’s small, but there are three seat belts. And then the passenger seat makes four.

  With my mind made up, I pull out of the parking spot and drive up to the bus stop, rolling my car windows down before I get there. I stop and look over, doing my best impression of someone who only just noticed she was there.

  “Hey,” I say with a nod.

  Abby startles. Now that I’m closer to her, I can tell these girls are probably her sisters. The family resemblance makes it obvious. “What are you doing here?” Abby asks, sounding more curious than accusing.

  “Just running errands,” I say. “The bus isn’t safe. Get in.”

  “Ooh! Awesome!” one of her sisters says.

  Abby shoots her a glare. “No, thanks.”

  “Come on,” I say, putting the Lexus in park. “My car is cleaner than the bus.”

  Her sisters plead in sync, asking her to please let them ride with me. After a few seconds she stands up. “Fine,” she says, motioning for the girls to get in my car. They gleefully hop inside, crowding into the backseat.

  Abby sits in the passenger seat, closes the door, and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not giving you a kudos over this.”

  I grin as I shift into first gear. “I figured you’d say that.”

  Seven

  ABBY

  I’m weirdly nervous about seeing Mark the next day at school. Him offering to take my sisters and me home last night was a really generous thing to do, especially since Mark and I are definitely not friends.

  I know he probably only did it hoping I would give him kudos on the app. Jake and other guys at school who are obsessed with learning the app’s algorithm think that people who rank higher on the scoreboard probably have more sway when they give out kudus. Like, since I’m number four right now, my kudos is probably worth more points for someone else. So if I were to give Mark a kudos for giving me a ride home last night, it would probably boost his score by several points. No one really knows how the app works, though. The FAQ on the Un-bully website says their scientific formulas are top secret.

  I told him I wasn’t going to give him a kudos for the act, and he still gave us a ride home anyway. I spent all night thinking about it, and I even looked up his profile a few times, but ultimately, I never pressed the thumbs up button. He’s a rich kid with a nice car. He doesn’t need to win this contest.

  I, however, could have my life changed by winning this contest. A new car would be amazing and it would help out my entire family since I could drive my sisters around and help my parents save money. We take the bus when we have to, but the bus sucks. It always smells like rotten eggs. My sisters have dance class once a week and that coincides with Abuela’s bingo nights. So instead of borrowing her car, we get to take the stupid bus. I am so tired of taking the bus.

  In my cosmetology class we’ve been learning makeup application and I’m getting pretty good at applying individual fake eye lashes. While our school provides the supplies we need for class, we usually buy ourselves extra stuff to play with during homeroom or when we stay after school, hanging out with Mrs. Ashley. I ended up finding a huge box of fake eye lashes on Amazon for pretty cheap, and after first period is over I hang back, waiting until everyone else has left.

  “Mrs. Ashlee?” I ask, walking up to her desk. “Do you think I could come back here and use the studio during lunch?”

  “Sure,” she says, barely glancing at me over her laptop screen. “What do you need it for? All your skills tests have been exemplary.”

  I hold up my huge box of fake eye lashes. “I’m going to offer to do people’s eyelashes during lunch all week. For free.”

  Mrs. Ashlee gives me a knowing look. “You’re a hustler,” she says with a grin. “Hustling for kudos.”

  I grin back. “What can I say? I want to win.”

  As I head to second period, I send out a Snapchat message to our school’s group story. I take a picture of my eyelashes and then let everyone know I’ll be doing free sets during lunch all week. Within minutes I have girls setting up appointments with me, and my score on the Un-bully app goes up to number three. Awesome.

  My free lashes are such a hit that I fill up the lunch period all week with appointments and people are still asking if I have openings left. I’m in no danger of running out of lashes or glue anytime soon, so I keep taking appointments. It’s fun, and I’m really good at it. All this lash practice has me wanting to open my own lash studio one day.

  A few friends from my last class of the day ask if I mind staying after school to do their lashes. It’s Wednesday, and I don’t have any plans after school so I tell them to meet me in the cosmetology studio. I’m expecting a few girls to show up, but when I get there after telling Jules I can’t ride home with her after school, I’m greeted by fifteen people. Wow.

  “This is the perfect way to get kudos,” some girl tells me as she sits in the chair a
nd tips her head back under the overhead light. I don’t even know who she is, but I’m grateful for the business. If I win the car, it’ll be like I didn’t do all this hard work for free.

  I finish up as soon as possible, and it turns out I have some time to catch the late school bus. The normal school bus runs right after the bell rings, but then there’s a late one two hours after school gets out. It takes students home who had sports practice or tutorials after school.

  I’m exhausted and my neck hurts from leaning over doing lashes all day. I can’t wait to check my score on the app. I was in third place earlier today. I really, really hope I made it to second. Right now the two people ahead of me are extremely popular. Joey Lithgow is a football star everyone is in love with now that Jake Morgan is off the market. I’m pretty sure he’s only scoring so well because everyone just gives him free kudos for no reason. Then there’s the girl in first place, some freshman named Annabel. Turns out her mom is a teacher at the school and we’re all thinking the teachers are who helped her get up to first place. That might be hard to beat.

  I climb onto the bus and plop into the second seat. It is by sheer bad luck that I’m the last person to get dropped off on this route. We drive around Brazos City for thirty minutes taking everyone else home because they live closer to the school. I’ve never wanted my own car more than I want it now. The bus is awful.

  When the bus finally pulls onto my road, I stand up and make my way toward the front. That’s when I notice a folded hundred dollar bill on the floor, just behind the bus driver’s foot.

  “Excuse me,” I say, kneeling down. “I think you dropped this.”

  The bus driver’s eyes light up. She looks about my mom’s age, maybe older. “Oh my goodness,” she says, taking the money. “I’m paying my light bill with this money. Girl you just saved me a world of trouble. Thank you.”

  I smile at her. “It’s no problem.”