Spotlight on Coding Club!

by Michelle Schusterman

  “Gotcha.” Tania grinned. “So what’s up with the bug testing?”

  “Oh!” I blinked, surprised. “It’s okay, I can figure it out.”

  “Really?” Tania asked. “Because if you think another pair of eyes would help, I don’t mind. I’m happy to help out my sister’s friend.”

  “Well, okay,” I admitted. “I’m not sure what’s wrong. But you didn’t have to call!”

  Tania shrugged. “Leila told me coding club’s been a little stressful this week.” She glanced over her shoulder, and I caught a glimpse of a pretty flowery pattern on her scarf. “She’s in the garage right now, working on her robot for the talent show. Anyway, if you really need help, I’ve got a few minutes!”

  Since she was offering, I figured I might as well get her help. “That would be awesome.” I sent her the link to the web app, along with a password and directions for navigating to the voting feature, and then started describing the problems I was having.

  “Ah, I bet I know what’s going on with the threes,” Tania murmured, squinting at her screen. “Yup, right here. Instead of having the feature count the number of thumbs-ups, this code is instructing it to count numbers one, two, and three. That’s why you keep getting threes!”

  “Oh!” I found the code she was talking about. “Yeah, you’re right. Well, that’s probably an easy fix, right?”

  “Yup!” Tania helped me adjust the code, and the next time I rated my fake candidate, it counted the number of thumbs perfectly.

  “Success!” I cheered, and Tania laughed. “But, look, this is an even bigger problem.” I clicked enter, and Tania and I went into the dashboard. “No data,” I said. “What’s that about?”

  Tania’s brow furrowed. “Hmm, that is a bit trickier . . .”

  We spent the next fifteen minutes poring over code. After a few wrong guesses, we finally identified the problem and ran a final test. Every time we reloaded the page, we accidentally reset the database. Tania helped me fix that bug, too. When the results showed up in the dashboard, I raised my arms in a V for victory, then slumped over in my chair like I’d passed out.

  Tania was laughing again. “Hey, no more stressing!” she said. “I hope you can relax the rest of tonight?”

  I shrugged. “Eh, I still have a little studying to do. Plus I should start preparing for my talent show video.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re entering the talent show, too? And Leila told me you’re in film club . . . wow, Erin. No wonder you’re stressed!”

  “The only stressful part was trying to decide between singing and hula-hooping,” I joked, spreading my arms and wiggling in my chair as if I was practicing. “Thanks again for calling, by the way. I never would’ve finished this tonight without you.”

  “Anytime! Let me know if you need any more help, okay?”

  “I will, thanks!”

  I waved, then closed the screen. The circle next to Dad’s name was still gray.

  Anxiety fluttered through my stomach, and I ignored it. It was Thursday, which meant Mom would be picking up Chinese takeout for dinner. And thanks to my delicious stress-baking habit, we could have dessert tonight, too. If I hurried, I could get a batch of cupcakes in the oven before she got home.

  Chapter Five

  “I know you don’t think so, but it’s tru-u-ue . . .”

  I stepped back, studying the blue sheet I’d pinned on my bedroom wall. Not the most exciting backdrop for my talent show act, but I’d read online that it was best to keep it simple—that way the focus would be on my performance.

  “So stand back, look out, let me show you-ou-ou . . .”

  On my laptop screen, a little girl in overalls clutched a stuffed monkey. She was singing a song she made up—and her voice was amazing. But that wasn’t the reason her video had gone viral last summer. Nope, those hundreds of thousands of hits were all because of her dance routine, which was hilarious. It was like a cross between ballet and a short-circuiting robot, with a few random karate moves thrown in for good measure.

  My dad had been in town then, and we’d watched it together, both of us laughing so hard tears were streaming down our faces. From then on, any time I wanted to make Dad smile, all I had to do was sing a few lines. He’d start cracking up before I even busted into the dance moves.

  My old keyboard sat on my desk in front of the laptop, along with a little speaker. I’d stayed up way too late last night composing a piano accompaniment to the song. It was really simple, but I’d added a few sound effects to the recording. I had to admit, this performance had everything: singing, dancing, and comedy. All my talents combined.

  I imagined myself standing onstage at the assembly, one of the top three finalists. The house lights would go down, and a spotlight would hit me. I’d bring the microphone to my lips, my voice echoing out of the auditorium’s giant speakers . . . and then I’d ditch the mic and bust into the dance, and the whole school would lose it.

  I really missed performing. This was going to be so fun.

  “Erin! Maya’s here!”

  Quickly, I hit pause on the video, then hurried out of my room. Maya was in the kitchen with my mom, who was pouring two glasses of milk.

  Maya grinned at me. “Your mom said something about cupcakes, and I figured, hey, maybe a snack before we film wouldn’t be a bad idea . . .”

  “Good call!” I said cheerfully, grabbing the plastic container off the counter and setting it on the table. After that tense coding club meeting on Thursday, I’d baked two dozen cupcakes. Mom had taken some to work yesterday, but we still had a bunch left.

  Maya leaned over when I pulled the lid off. “Ahhh, those look so good. What kind are they?”

  “Snickerdoodle, with buttercream frosting and a caramel drizzle,” I answered proudly. Mom groaned, rubbing her stomach.

  “Be careful, they’re addictive,” she told Maya. “I think I’ve eaten at least three in the last forty-eight hours.”

  Maya giggled. “I’ll take the risk!”

  I watched Mom rummage through her purse, then grab her keys off the counter. “Are you leaving?”

  “Yeah, quick grocery trip.” Mom smiled at me. “Besides, it’s probably better if I’m not here while you make your video. You don’t need me laughing my head off in the background.”

  “True,” I agreed, and she gave me a quick kiss on the forehead.

  “Have fun, girls!”

  “Bye!” I waved before turning back to Maya. “Thanks again for helping me with this. I know you’re busy with your fashion show, too.”

  “It’s no problem! And you’ll never guess what I brought.” Maya took another bite of her cupcake, then unzipped her backpack. A second later, she pulled out a stuffed monkey.

  “Oh wow!” I exclaimed. “That looks just like the one from the video! Where’d you get it?”

  “Sophia gave it to me!” Maya replied. “It’s her sister’s. She was going to give it to you at lunch yesterday, but since you weren’t there, I told her I was coming over to your place today.”

  “This is perfect,” I said, taking the monkey and swinging him around. “Actually, I’m glad I went to film club instead of lunch. I haven’t told anyone—except you—all the secret details about my audition. If anyone else saw this, it would’ve ruined the surprise.”

  “Oooh, good point!” Maya popped the last bit of cupcake in her mouth. “How was film club?”

  “Super busy.” That was an understatement. Watching all the videos was fun, but after a while they started blurring together. And I was positive tons of kids—like me—would be making their video this weekend, so there would be even more to review on Monday. “We’re all caught up for now, though,” I added, reaching for my glass of milk. “I can’t wait to see yours. How’s it coming?”

  Maya’s face lit up. “Actually, Hannah came over after school yesterday and helpe
d a ton—we finished all five outfits.”

  “Wow!” I exclaimed. “Are you making the video tomorrow? Who are your other models?”

  “Actually, just Hannah for now,” Maya said, and I noticed that faint blush was back. “I couldn’t find anyone else to model, and she’s not entering the talent show, so she has the time.”

  “Well, when you get into round two and then become a finalist, I bet it’ll be easy for you to get a bunch of volunteer models for the assembly.” I crumpled up my napkin. “And then you’ll start your own fashion line and become super famous. Chung’s Closet! No—M. C. Fashion! Wait, that sounds like you’re a rapper . . .”

  Maya laughed. “I think I’d go with Made by Maya.”

  “Perfect. Made by Maya—soon to be worn by every celebrity and model in the world,” I announced. Pausing, I eyed Maya. “And Hannah, of course.”

  “Yeah . . .”

  I licked the frosting from my fingers, watching Maya carefully. She was gazing down at the table with a goofy little smile. “She seems really cool,” I added lightly. “Think you’ll keep hanging out with her after the talent show?”

  Maya fiddled with her bracelets. “I hope so—I mean, if she wants to. I think she does. But I haven’t, um . . .” Her cheeks were tomato red now, and I couldn’t help it. I started giggling. “What?” Maya said, but I could tell she was trying not to smile, too.

  “You like her,” I replied triumphantly. “I knew it!”

  Maya buried her face in her hands. “Oh no. Is it that obvious? Does everybody know?”

  “No! At least, I don’t think so.” I snapped the lid back on the container of cupcakes. “Soooo . . .”

  “Soooo what?”

  “Soooo are you going to ask her out?” I waggled my eyebrows.

  Maya’s eyes widened. “Like on a date?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because . . .” Maya hesitated. “I’d like to, yeah. But how would I even ask?”

  “Like this: Hannah, want to see a movie with me this weekend?”

  “Sure, but friends see movies together all the time,” Maya pointed out. “Even if she said yes, how would I know if it’s a date?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. But hey, if you don’t ask her, you’ll never find out!”

  Maya smiled a little. “Yeah, you’re right.” She drained her glass of milk, then set it down on the table. “Okay! Should we make the video that’s going to win the talent show?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that!” I grabbed the stuffed monkey, then led the way down the hall to my room. “Honestly, I haven’t even had time to practice it this week.”

  “But you said you’ve done it before, right?” Maya asked, closing my bedroom door behind her. “Seriously, your voice is amazing and the dance part is going to be so funny. I really think you’ll be in the top three. Our whole coding group does—that way we can dance backup! It would be even funnier.”

  “Ha, it would be!” I answered, my heart doing a little flip at the thought. Making this video would be fun, and I loved this new talent show format. But if I didn’t make the three finalists after two rounds of voting, I wouldn’t have another chance to perform onstage until next year. And I really, really missed that rush.

  “Do you want to do a practice run first?” Maya took my phone off the dresser and flopped onto my bed.

  “Nah, I’m good.” I stood in front of the blue sheet and did a few stretches. “I’ve done this so many times for my dad. It always cracks him up.”

  Maya looked up at me. “Actually, I’m kind of worried I’ll screw this up by laughing while we’re recording, like your mom said.”

  I wagged my finger at her. “No laughing allowed, Chung,” I said sternly.

  “I’ll try.” She scooted farther back on my bed to get more into the frame, then opened the app on my phone. “Ready?”

  “Just a sec.” Holding the monkey under my arm, I flipped my keyboard on and found the recording. “Okay, go!”

  I hit play and hurried back to the sheet, and Maya held up my phone and started recording. When the opening chords sounded through the speaker, Maya clapped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

  I bit the inside of my cheeks and focused on keeping my expression solemn. That was a huge part of why the little girl’s video was so funny—she looked so serious, and her voice was so beautiful, that when she started doing her jerky, flaily-armed dance with the stuffed monkey, it totally caught everyone off guard.

  “I know you don’t think so,” I sang, looking straight at my phone. “But it’s tru-u-ue . . .” Turning my head, I gazed into the stuffed monkey’s plastic eyes. “I can move, I can dance, better than you-u-u . . .”

  Maya’s shoulders were shaking now, but she held my phone steady as I sang the rest of the verse. Performing always gave me an adrenaline rush, and my heart was pounding in my ears. I ignored it and tried to concentrate on the song.

  The last time I’d done this whole routine was last summer. It was the day before my dad was going overseas again, and he was packing his bag when I put the video on. When it got to the dance, Dad abandoned his packing and joined me, flailing and jumping around until we collapsed on the floor, laughing so hard we cried.

  It felt wrong to be dancing by myself.

  When I glanced up to make sure Maya was still filming, for a split second I was sure that it was my dad sitting there. A buzzing noise filled my ears, barely noticeable at first, but it got louder and louder until I couldn’t hear the accompaniment anymore.

  “So stand back . . .” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard. But the buzzing wouldn’t go away. “Look out,” I managed to choke out, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe.

  “Erin?”

  Bright spots danced in my vision. Distantly, I heard wheezing, like someone in the next room was hyperventilating. But it wasn’t someone else. It was me.

  This was a panic attack. A real one.

  I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to remember what my first therapist had told me back in third grade. Don’t think about anything but your breathing. Slow and steady.

  Gradually, my short, shallow gasps for air grew longer and steadier. I realized I was on my knees, my hands pressed into the carpet. And a voice was saying my name, sounding every bit as panicky as I felt. I kept my eyes shut until my pulse started to slow down. When I opened them, I saw Maya kneeling next to me, her face pale.

  “Erin, are you okay?”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak yet. Slowly, the rest of my room came back into focus. The monkey lay on the floor next to me, and I could see the little girl still paused mid-dance on my laptop screen. The last few chords of the accompaniment sounded through the speakers, and then there was nothing but silence.

  Shaking a little, I started to stand, and Maya held my arm and helped me over to my bed. I sat down and grabbed Brave Bonnie Broomstick, hugging her to my chest. Maybe I should’ve been embarrassed about needing a stuffed animal for comfort, but I knew Maya wouldn’t judge me.

  Maya sat next to me, her expression a mix of worry and fear, but she didn’t say anything. I took one last, deep breath.

  “So much for doing it in one take, huh?” I tried to make my voice light. Maya shot me a serious look, and I sighed. “Sorry. It’s just—that hasn’t happened in a long time.”

  “What was it?” Maya’s voice was unusually high, and I felt a twinge of guilt at having scared her so badly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine, I promise,” I told her, trying to smile. “It was a panic attack. I used to get them sometimes, but it hasn’t happened since third grade.”

  Maya’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Oh. Okay.” She hesitated, chewing her bottom lip. “Why, though? I mean, what caused it just now?”

  I squeezed Brave Bonnie Broomstick tighter. Part of me wan
ted to tell Maya all about my dad’s mission, my mom’s long list of therapists, my All the Distractions plan. But another, bigger part of me was terrified that talking about all that stuff would just trigger another panic attack—or worse, make her think there was something wrong with me.

  Before I could decide, I heard the front door open and close.

  “My mom’s back,” I said, my chest tightening a little. “Don’t tell her, okay?”

  “What?” Maya blinked. “Why? Doesn’t she know about your panic attacks?”

  “Yeah, of course.” I tossed Brave Bonnie Broomstick aside and got to my feet. “But this one doesn’t count. I mean, it wasn’t a real . . . Look, it’s just better if she doesn’t know, okay? Please, please don’t say anything.”

  “Okay,” Maya whispered, but she looked more worried than ever. “So, um. Do you want to try the song again, or maybe wait a few—”

  “I’m not entering the talent show,” I said abruptly, surprising us both. The moment the words were out of my mouth, I knew it was the right call. Picking this song was a huge mistake. I couldn’t get through it without thinking about my dad. And what if Maya was right, and I did make it into the top three? I loved performing more than anything, but what if this happened again? I imagined myself having a panic attack onstage in front of the whole school and suppressed a shudder. Totally not worth the risk.

  Maya’s mouth had fallen open. “What? Why not?”

  “I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I wasted your Saturday afternoon,” I babbled as I closed my laptop and turned off the keyboard. “But I think between coding club and film club, I just—I’m too busy. It’s totally fine!” I added when Maya started to protest. “Thanks for coming over. I really appreciate it.”

  “Okay . . .” Slowly, Maya headed for my door. “Erin, are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yup, absolutely.” I gave her a big, forced smile. “Hey, good luck filming your video tomorrow! And let me know if I can help!”

  “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

  Out in the hall, I could hear Mom putting away groceries in the kitchen. I hurried to the front door with Maya, hoping Mom wouldn’t hear. One look at the expression on Maya’s face, and my mom would know something was up.