Maddie moved to the edge of the couch, and Lucy put a hand on her knee.
“No shame in looking to raise your Pulse by being ‘close’ to my man.” He put air quotes around “close” and wiggled his eyebrows. “And no doubt you’re hot enough that it should have worked. But you can’t come running to your elders when your ‘business dinner’”—another set of air quotes—“doesn’t quite yield the results you expect. Real-world tip here . . .” His lips smoothed into a sympathetic smile. “Sometimes the Pulse rubs off, sometimes it doesn’t. I mean, if I had a dime for every chick cozying up to Ryan to skyrocket to Crushing It, I’d be a rich man.” He pressed his finger to his lips. “Oh, wait—”
“That’s it.” Maddie leapt to her feet.
“Yes,” Lucy said, also standing. “It is. Let’s go.” She tipped her head toward the pile of dirty laundry on the kitchenette counter that made Lucy wish she’d bathed in hand sanitizer before entering the room. Hanging over the edge was the tee only given to Pulse employees.
She locked eyes with Maddie and then Delia. They all saw. They all knew what this was. A waste of time.
* * *
* * *
That night, Lucy, Maddie, and Delia stood on the balcony off the common room watching the explosion of fireworks that lit up the night sky. Palms as tall as the buildings dotted the quad, and each new flash bathed the airy fronds in vibrant colors, like light reflecting through a prism.
“At least it’s beautiful,” Delia said.
“Nothing beats Boston’s,” Maddie said. “But it’s all right.” As the sequence of bursts transitioned from red to white to blue, Maddie faced Delia and Lucy. “That was a mistake. Mine, and I’m sorry. I thought we’d gain something by reporting it quickly, but at least we can prove we tried. We’ll go to Nishi as soon as she’s back. She’ll believe us. I’m sure of it.”
She would. Lucy didn’t doubt that. And yet . . . what had she said in the club? “Different rules for the gents.” A warning. That Lucy didn’t heed. She may even think Lucy had brought this on herself. Because that’s exactly what Lucy thought.
“No,” Lucy said. “I changed my mind. I don’t want anyone to know.”
“What?” Maddie said. “But we agreed. He’s a bully.”
“Maybe. But he’s also Ryan Thompson, and I’m a wannabe. A Comatose wannabe looking to do anything she can to win the incubator.”
“No, Lucy, no. You can’t let Mr. Two Commas—”
“I’m not letting anyone or anything. I dressed up, I went to dinner, I drank champagne with him. I wore crop tops and I danced at the club and I flirted and I used Pulse to make our beta test a success. Even you can see how it looks. What’s true matters far less than what people want to believe.”
If this got out . . . what would her mom say? What would Stanford think?
Fear rippled through her at the thought of losing everything she’d worked so hard for. Because of what? A hand on her leg?
Ryan Thompson made news. Ryan Thompson was news. She wanted her name in a headline—but not like this.
She steeled herself and said, “I want to be known for what I do, not for what someone does to me.”
Despite the concern in Delia’s eyes, she said, “Okay.”
Maddie’s expression shifted from resistance to resignation. “If that’s what you want . . .”
“It is,” Lucy said. “But that’s not all I want. I want us to do what we said we’d do. I want us to win ValleyStart. Not for a job at Pulse, but for us.”
“I’d like that,” Delia said.
Maddie bobbed her head in distracted agreement.
In front of them, the pyrotechnics escalated into the finale. Lucy stepped forward and wrapped her hands around the metal railing, watching each light tear through the sky, burn brightly, and then fizzle out into nothingness, never realizing she could have this much in common with a firework.
What am I even doing here?
TWENTY–THREE
FUZZING • Inserting random data sets to reveal vulnerabilities or bugs in the code
MADDIE ADJUSTED THE SHEET of paper underneath her hand, a trick to minimize the smudging that often comes when shading. Her pencil moved, filling in the wings of the pterodactyl hovering over the outline of Martha’s Vineyard. She hadn’t drawn anything just for fun in a while; her clients and their needs dictated the time that Danny didn’t.
Three days had passed since the ass otherwise known as the Head of House had belittled Lucy, prompting Maddie to take a page out of her brother’s book and google where to buy a cobra in Silicon Valley. The search came up empty, forcing her to remain on the high road she was beginning to think was as much of a crock as Pulse. Instead, she’d overnighted a new pink notebook for Lucy and a set of baby-soft cotton sheets for Delia.
Though still uncomfortable with the decision not to report Ryan, Maddie was on board with staying and finishing the program, partly because she didn’t have enough of a reason to return home. But more than enough reason to make it impossible for Ryan Thompson to dismiss them and, specifically, Lit.
Nishi had led a group critique of the beta tests. Lit was the standout.
Maddie let out the barest of smiles as she once again read ValleyStart’s daily message:
ValleyStart: Who enters the penultimate week with their odds of winning mightily increased? Don’t you sit, let’s all stand and give it up for Lit!
Which was why this week saw most of the other teams heavy in reiteration and their team like this:
Maddie drawing pterodactyls.
Delia bugging her own code.
Lucy living inside PowerPoint.
Lit worked. Maddie’s part was basically done. Hence the pterodactyl. Yet as she watched Lucy silently rehearse and Delia try to hack her own code, Maddie wished it weren’t. She could use the distraction.
Her phone rang, and a grin she’d missed feeling scrunched up her cheeks.
She ducked into the hall to answer. “How’s my favorite brother?”
“I’m your only brother.”
“So?”
“I have to be your favorite.”
“Cocky, aren’t you, kid?”
“Maddie.”
“Danny.”
“Did you talk to Mom?” He didn’t pause long enough for her to answer. “I mean, happy birthday, happy birthday to you, did you talk to Mom?”
Eighteen. An adult—as if she hadn’t been one since Danny was born.
She’d decided not to tell Lucy and Delia that today was her birthday. The mood in room 303 was far from celebratory.
“No, I haven’t talked to Mom yet.” Because it was up to the parent to call the kid on their birthday. Scratch that. It was up to the parent’s assistant to dial and then transfer the call.
“Oh,” he said.
“What is it, Danny?”
“I’m not supposed to tell.”
“Which means you have to. What’s up?” She’d been waiting for Danny to send a happy face emoji after receiving a package of Gumberoo socks. He hadn’t.
“Mom called from New York.”
Danny’s voice began to shake, and Maddie’s hackles rose even though this wasn’t unusual. With New York City being home to most of the big publishers, her parents traveled there often.
“From . . .” Danny sniffled. “From an apartment. She said I’d like the view and that it’s got great light for your drawing. Guess it’s near some park.”
“Central Park?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“That’s not some park, Danny, that’s some park.” She laughed. He didn’t. “Get it?”
He was silent.
“We’ve been through this,” she said. “I can’t see you shrug.”
His voice was weak when he finally spoke. “She said it’s also near my new school.�
�
“Your what?”
“So you don’t know?”
“Danny, what did she say? Tell me exactly what she said.”
“I’m not coming home to Cambridge after this, Mads. I’m supposed to meet her in New York City.”
“What?”
No, no, no, no, no.
“At least you can go to Maryland now,” he said. “You don’t have to choose between us.”
“I wasn’t, Danny, there was never any choice.”
“She said I don’t have to choose either. Dad already agreed.”
Sure he did. And they both did this behind my back.
“I’ll fix it,” she said.
“And I can’t come to your demo thing anymore. She said none of us can because of the move—”
An unexpected tightness spread across Maddie’s chest. “It’s no big deal. Forget it.” She forced a lighthearted “Now tell me about rock climbing.”
When he finally sounded more like himself, she let him go. The goodbye still hung on her lips when she traded it for “What the hell, Mom?”
“Maddie?” her mom said. “This is my private line. You never call this line.”
Because you never answer it. “News flash, Mom, I’m part of your private life. At least I’m supposed to be.”
“Does that mean you want to be? Because that hasn’t always been clear.”
Maddie’s nostrils flared. “When were you going to tell me about New York?”
She gave an exasperated sigh. “My assistant was supposed to schedule a call. But between negotiating the office lease and educating this fetus of a designer on what mid-century modern means, I’ve been—”
“Did you even . . .” Maddie tried to breathe. Her birthday didn’t matter. Neither did asking if this meant separation or divorce for the business, for their marriage, or both. All that mattered was what always had. “You can’t do this. You can’t just take him from me.”
“He’s my son, Maddie.”
“Since when?” The stabbing in Maddie’s chest made it hard to see straight. “Did you even send him the socks?”
“The what?”
“The socks. Socks, Mom, socks! Ridiculous, splinter-spitting, bushy-eyebrowed socks! Socks!”
Maddie screamed. Every. Last. Word.
Lucy poked her head into the hall. “Maddie? Are you okay?”
Maddie hung up on her mother and slumped against the wall. “I’m grand. Just grand.”
“Well, in that case, would you mind taking another spin through the lost and founds?” Lucy held up the notebook Maddie had given her. “I love it, really. It’s just that I’m trying to nail this last section, which I know I’d already summed up perfectly.”
Though Maddie needed one as big as Central Park, at least this was a distraction. “I’ll start with the study hall.”
* * *
* * *
The ache in her chest consumed her as she trudged across campus to the ValleyStart headquarters. New York? Her mother was moving to New York? With Danny? And her dad . . . he was just letting it happen? No one told her. How could no one have told her?
When she finally reached the study hall, the swirling in her mind stopped.
Because Sadie was talking to Ryan Thompson.
A surge of adrenaline propelled her into the room. As she got closer, she realized that it wasn’t just Sadie; it was all the kids from the day camp along with their counselors.
Relief. But not enough.
Maddie strode up to Sadie. She didn’t bother to hide her disgust when she looked at Ryan. But the boredom in his eyes unnerved her. Not even a hint of fear. Like he knew he’d get away with it. Because he probably already had—and not just with Lucy.
Maddie felt her smile waver, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She tugged Sadie’s sleeve. “Let’s talk. I have some ideas about your porcupine.”
Sadie’s eyes widened. “Porcupine?” Her voice was two octaves higher than usual. “Pa-leez. That silly thing? I’m way past that.” She laughed and looked at Ryan. “Way, way.”
“Of course you are.” He reached a hand out as if to touch Sadie, and Maddie put herself between them. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Where are you from again, Mandy?”
“You know it’s Maddie. And Boston. Says so right on my application.”
“Sure, but where are you really from?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not Thai, by any chance? Because I happen to know a great place in the city.”
Is he actually goading me? Or just this much of a prick?
Shock at his blatant insult delayed her response.
Sadie answered for her. “She’s half Chinese, her dad’s side.”
Maddie bit the inside of her lip to keep from spitting on Ryan. “Come on, Sadie, let’s go.”
If this place were on Lit, it’d have Maddie’s smiling silver sardine stamped across it. Every table was packed, full of teams reworking their code. Maddie grabbed Sadie’s hand and weaved her way through until she found a secluded spot next to the recycling, which brimmed with empty cans of energy drinks and bottles of iced coffee. A tower of pizza boxes stood beside it, at least a couple of days old from the trail of ants heading for it.
“What, what, what, what, what?” Sadie cried, shaking off Maddie’s hand. “What is so important that you’re dragging me away from Ryan Thompson? Ryan. Thompson.”
“Stay away from him,” Maddie snapped. “Don’t even follow him on Pulse, okay? In fact, stop with Pulse altogether.”
“Have you been smoking the wacky weed?”
“Have I . . . what?”
Sadie shrugged. “What my brother always says to me when I do insane things like pull my friends away from Ryan Thompson. Ryan—”
“I get it.”
“I don’t.” Sadie huffed and turned her back to Maddie. “And you can forget about my presentation thing too. My brother’s not even coming because it’s not that big of a deal, so—”
Maddie’s heart wrenched at the line she was sure Sadie’s brother had delivered. “I’ll be there.”
“Yeah, whatever.” She turned and faced Maddie. “But I guess you do owe me for Ryan—”
“Don’t say it!”
“Don’t yell at me!”
“I’m not.”
“Tell that to my eardrums!”
“Just . . .” Maddie took a deep breath. “Enough, Sadie, just listen to me. Stay away from Ryan Thompson and stay off Pulse and will you please take your hands off your ears?”
Sadie made a face at Maddie and stormed off in one direction, and Maddie tossed her hands in the air and stormed off in the other.
She flung open the door to the student center and jerked her head back to the ridiculously puffy clouds in this eternally blue sky.
What am I even doing here?
TWENTY–FOUR
CODE SMELL • A surface issue that indicates a deeper problem in the code
“UH, LIA?”
Eric had started calling her that a week ago. No one called her that. She loved that no one called her that except for him.
The beta test had secured Delia’s confidence in Lit. But after what happened with Ryan, Lit needed to not just work, but to be flawless, to account for every possibility and every impossibility.
She much preferred the quiet of the library and the proximity to Eric to the chaos of all the teams scrambling to rework their code in the study hall in this last week before Demo Day. Though she found she couldn’t be too close to Eric and still concentrate. They’d taken to sitting across from each other, laptop to laptop, where she could hide her flush every time he called her Lia. Every single time.
“Marty texted me again,” Eric said.
“More PowerPoint trouble? Tell him to text Lucy. You’d think she invented it with the things she can
do.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what?” Delia’s grin faded when she saw the concern on Eric’s face.
“First, we’ll figure it out, I promise, we’ll figure out what—”
“Eric? What is it? Just tell me.”
“I think it’s better that you see it.” He rotated his computer with one hand and reached for hers with the other. Goose bumps erupted on the surface of her skin, but what she saw on the screen meant they were increasingly no longer a result of Eric.
“How . . . how is this possible?” Delia said.
She released Eric’s hand and pulled the laptop closer. She read, running her finger along each line, determined to get to the end, to the punch line, to the joke this had to be. Had to be.
Eric pushed his chair back, circled the table, and sat beside her. “It’s yours? All of it?”
Delia couldn’t summon enough saliva to speak. She barely had the strength to nod. On the browser screen in front of them was an open-source coding site. Programmers and developers tossed up ideas and source code to contribute to the community, to get feedback and input, ultimately for anyone to take and use, the theory being that higher-quality software would result. Technically, open source meant anyone was free to use the code, but in the context of ValleyStart, this was strictly prohibited. It was in the pledge they’d signed. The one Delia had signed.
Yet right here on this site was the code behind Lit. Down to every letter and number. Dated two months before ValleyStart began. Before Lit began.
“How . . . how?” Delia kept reading. In the notes preceding the code was the exact description of Lit, including the potential applications to malls, amusement parks, and all the things Lucy had worked hard to bring to life in her Demo Day slides. “We didn’t, Eric. I swear, we didn’t steal it. Lit was ours. Lit is ours. It’s not . . . we didn’t do this.”
“I know. Of course I know. You didn’t think . . .” Eric tried to take her hand, but she pulled away. “That’s not why I showed you. I know you’d never do something like that, Lia. But if this link is making the rounds . . . not everyone knows you as well as I do.”
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