Spotlight on Coding Club!

by Michelle Schusterman

  ohhhhh yeah. but it’s my fault for not telling her

  why didn’t you? you said you’ve had panic attacks before, right?

  I blew my nose, threw the tissue in the trash can next to my bed, then took a deep breath.

  yeah, since third grade when my dad started getting sent on these military missions. i never know how long it’ll be till he calls again, and i get really worried about him. i was in therapy and it helped a lot. this is the first time I’ve had a panic attack since elementary school

  your dad’s on a mission now?

  yeah, he left a few weeks ago

  I hesitated, unsure of what else to say. Then I saw Maya was already responding.

  erin, that SUCKS.

  why didn’t you say something before??

  i was afraid even just talking about it would give me a panic attack!

  that’s why i had one on saturday. that song reminds me of my dad b/c i used to sing it for him all the time.

  noooooooooooooo

  i’m so sorry

  I felt about a billion times lighter reading Maya’s texts. My thumbs flew over the screen as I sat on the edge of my bed.

  thx

  so mom thinks i’m overworking myself and she’s making me come home after school every day

  WHAT

  I KNOW. there’s still so much to do for the talent show! plus i need the distraction. now i’m just going to be sitting here with nothing to do but worry about my dad

  well, not necessarily

  you can still work on the voting part at home! and we can still text and stuff. i’ll distract you!

  I sprawled out on my bed, tucking Brave Bonnie Broomstick under my head as a pillow. Maya was totally right. Being grounded didn’t mean Plan All the Distractions was over. It just needed a little readjustment.

  Chapter Eight

  “Maya! Hey, Maya!”

  Maya and I stopped right outside the entrance to the cafeteria, turning to see Hannah hurrying down the hall. She smiled at me before grabbing Maya’s arm and shaking it excitedly.

  “I was just in the computer lab checking the All the Talents site, and guess what,” Hannah said.

  “What?” Maya’s cheeks were already pink, and I fought back a grin.

  “Your video is ranked second!” Hannah exclaimed.

  “Oh my god, seriously?” I yelped.

  Maya looked stunned. “Really? Out of . . . everyone?”

  “Out of every single audition,” Hannah confirmed, her smile widening. “And I know voting for the first round is still open, but I really, really think you’re going to be in the top three. Which means . . .”

  She gave Maya an expectant look, and after a few seconds, Maya averted her gaze.

  “Oh. That.”

  “What?” I asked, looking back and forth between them. Hannah bounced up and down on her toes.

  “Maya’s been working on something special,” she told me eagerly. “For if—I mean, when—she’s in the top three and gets to do her fashion show at the assembly.”

  “Ooooh, like a new dress or something?” I asked.

  Maya nodded. “Yeah, I’m actually working on a bunch of new stuff . . . although Hannah can only model one on Friday, obviously. I mean, if I’m in the top three.”

  “You will be,” Hannah and I said at the same time, and Maya laughed.

  “You’re the best. Both of you.”

  “We’re also right,” Hannah told her. “Which is why I just got permission from Ms. Davies to use the theater club’s costume room during lunch! Want to go work on the outfits?”

  “Right now?” Maya stared at her, then at me.

  “Um, the answer is yes,” I said, nudging her with my elbow. “Go!”

  “Are you sure?” Maya gave me a meaningful look, and I knew she was worried about her promise to distract me.

  “Yes,” I said firmly, giving her a confident smile. After a moment, Maya smiled back.

  “Okay. Thanks, Erin.”

  She and Hannah hurried off down the hall, and I noticed Hannah was still clinging to her arm. Smiling to myself, I headed into the cafeteria.

  Lucy and Leila were already at our usual table. So was Sophia, although I didn’t notice her at first. Probably because she had her head on her arms like she was fast asleep. I sat next to her and gingerly poked her arm. When her eyelids fluttered open, I gasped.

  “It’s aliiiive!”

  Leila gave me a gleeful look, but Lucy didn’t even glance up from her social studies textbook. Sophia half-heartedly swatted at my hand.

  “So sleepy,” she mumbled. “I got to school an entire hour early today just to practice.”

  “Whoa,” I said, unwrapping my sandwich. “Now that’s dedication.”

  Sophia sat up and sighed. “Yeah. A few other girls trying out for pitcher are really good. I need all the practice I can get.”

  “I’m sure you’ll kick butt,” I told her, and she smiled gratefully.

  “Hopefully. But I feel bad about missing coding club again, especially with the talent show this week. I hope you all don’t mind.”

  Leila cringed. “Actually, I won’t be there today, either.”

  “What?” Lucy finally looked up from her book, staring at Leila. “Why not?”

  “It’s the only day this week my sister has free,” Leila explained. “And I need help on my robot. We just found out TechTown is having a robotics competition next week, and . . .” Leila paused, smiling bashfully. “Well, Tania thinks my robot is really good, and she talked me into entering.”

  “Whoa, that’s so cool!” Sophia exclaimed, and I nodded eagerly.

  “Awesome,” Lucy said. “We’ll miss you after school, though. Guess it’ll be just us, right, Erin?”

  Now it was my turn to cringe. “Actually . . .”

  Lucy’s smile vanished. “You’re not coming, either?”

  “I’m kind of grounded,” I said, and her eyes widened. “For the rest of the week. So no coding club, no film club. Yay for me, right?”

  “Oh no,” said Leila. “What happened?”

  I took a long sip of milk, suddenly wishing Maya was there. “It’s a long story,” I said finally, setting down the milk carton. “I had a fight with my mom because she thinks I’m overworking myself.” I sat rigidly straight, letting my eyes go out of focus. “Work zombie . . . starving . . . ,” I moaned, and they laughed. “But I can still work on the voting part for the site at home, Lucy,” I went on in my normal voice. “Actually, maybe we can text while you’re at coding club today! Keep me updated, and let me know if I can help with anything, okay?”

  Lucy had a funny look on her face. “Yeah, okay.”

  And there it was: yet another awkward silence. I toyed with the straw in my milk carton, trying desperately to think of a joke or something to lighten the mood. But instead, anxiety crept into my chest, and I focused on breathing slowly. Inhale, exhale. Were my friends staring at me? Could they tell something was wrong? My pulse quickened, and I jumped when Sophia broke the silence.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I opened my mouth, unsure of what to say. Then I realized she was staring at Lucy.

  “Nothing,” Lucy said, already turning her attention back to her social studies textbook. But she looked up when Leila placed a hand on her elbow.

  “It just seems like you’ve been upset for a few days now,” she said softly. “Like when we were late to coding club last week.”

  “But we all worked really hard on the voting thing,” Sophia added immediately. “It’s not like we left you to do it by yourself.”

  “I know.” Lucy finally closed her textbook. “That’s not it. I guess I’m upset because I was up late last night working on the program to help us find a new coding club teacher.”

  I
glanced at Sophia, who was staring at Lucy in disbelief. “Wait,” she said slowly. “That’s why you’re mad at us? But that’s your project!”

  My heart started pounding in my ears, and I clasped my sweaty hands in my lap. Stop, I told myself. Stop this. Calm down. Don’t do this in the middle of the cafeteria.

  Lucy blinked in surprise. “It was my idea, but I thought we were all working on it together. And Principal Stephens said he’d look at the data I collect. Don’t you care about finding the best teacher?”

  “Of course we do,” said Sophia. “But I told you I had softball tryouts. And Leila, Maya, and Erin were all entering the talent show, plus Erin had film club. We told you.”

  Lucy crossed her arms. “I know you’re all super busy, but . . . I don’t know. Coding club is important to me, and I thought it was to you, too.”

  “It is!” Sophia cried, and I closed my eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. “But we already have so much going on. I mean, Erin’s mom grounded her for overworking herself!” She gestured at me, then did a double take. “Erin? You okay?”

  My breath was coming in short, sharp bursts. I could feel my friends watching me, and my throat started to feel tight.

  “I have to go.” I stood up so fast, I almost knocked over my milk carton. “See you all later.” Before anyone could respond, I grabbed my bag and hurried off. I thought I heard someone call my name, but I bolted from the cafeteria without looking back.

  Chapter Nine

  The floor of the girls’ restroom had exactly sixty-four square tiles, and seven were cracked. That was the kind of important information you learned after spending most of your lunch period hiding from friends, teachers, and basically all human beings. I’d been sitting on the floor next to the sinks for almost fifteen minutes, and no one had come in. Which was good, because I was feeling more like myself again. But it also made me feel bad. Had my friends tried to look for me at all? Or were they mad at me?

  Standing, I tossed my empty lunch bag into the trash, then washed my hands. Three more classes, I told myself. You can do it. It dawned on me that I was grateful Mom was making me come right home after school.

  I still had a few minutes until the bell would ring, but I wanted to get to class before everyone left the cafeteria. I hurried through the quiet halls, glancing into Mrs. Clark’s room out of habit when I passed by. Then I did an abrupt about-face and looked again.

  “Tania!”

  Tania was behind Mrs. Clark’s desk, squinting at her computer screen. She glanced up and gave me a warm look.

  “Erin! How are you?”

  “Fine,” I said, stepping inside. “What are you doing here?”

  “Mrs. Clark has been helping me with my internship application for TechTown,” Tania explained. “She has her conference period after lunch, so I was just hanging out here until she gets back.” She pointed to the screen, and I saw the All the Talents site. “Leila showed me this last night—looks like coding club did an awesome job!”

  “It was so fun,” I said, grinning. “Thanks again for helping me test the voting feature.”

  “Anytime,” Tania said. “Stress levels back down to normal?”

  I was startled for a moment, then remembered our conversation the other day. “Oh yeah. I’m . . . yeah.”

  Tania arched an eyebrow. “Not your most convincing performance, Miss Theater.”

  I laughed, but even I could hear how strained it sounded. “I’m fine, really. Just kind of grounded,” I told her, surprising myself. But now the words were spilling out, and I couldn’t seem to stop them. “And I dropped out of the talent show. And my friends might be mad at me. And my mom is definitely mad at me. And my . . .” My throat closed up, and I took a deep breath.

  Tania was watching me closely, her brows knitted. “You’ve got a lot going on, huh?” I nodded, and she gave me a sympathetic smile. “I’ve been there. Last year, I got so stressed out the week of finals, I ended up hyperventilating in the middle of my calculus exam.”

  I stared at her. “Wait, seriously?”

  “Yup.” Tania nodded. “I was so embarrassed. Luckily, my teacher was great about it. She let me come after school to finish the test.”

  “Wow.” I was surprised because that sounded a whole lot like a panic attack. And Tania was in high school! And she was super smart and cool. I had a hard time imagining her freaking out in the middle of class. But weirdly, knowing that she had made me feel a little bit better about myself.

  My gaze wandered to the screen, and I noticed the thumbs-up buttons beneath all the videos. “Oh, I just realized I totally forgot to actually vote!” I exclaimed. “Earth to Erin. I can’t believe I helped design the voting part of the site and watched all the videos during film club, and I haven’t actually voted yet.”

  Tania stood and gestured at Mrs. Clark’s computer. “Want to do it now, since it’s already pulled up?”

  “Sure, thanks!”

  Quickly, I logged into the web app with my student ID. Then I used the search filter to find Leila’s video. I clicked play, and her robot began to hit the toy xylophone, pinging out the familiar opening of “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” Tania smiled as I started giving thumbs-ups to the qualities listed under her video.

  “Leila’s already made a ton of improvements since we filmed this,” Tania told me. “I think she’s going to do great in that robotics competition—did she tell you about that?”

  “Yeah, just now at lunch!” I said, already moving over to Maya’s video. “That is so cool.”

  Tania was quiet as I entered my ratings for Maya. When I finished, she cleared her throat.

  “Speaking of lunch, why aren’t you there now?”

  “Um.” I kept my eyes on the screen. “I left early.”

  “How come?”

  “Well, we all kind of had a . . .” I paused. “Not a fight, exactly. But things are weird. And I had to leave the cafeteria because there were too many people around, and I was afraid I’d . . .”

  I stopped and shook my head. Tania placed a hand on my arm.

  “Afraid you’d what?” she asked gently.

  “I was afraid I’d . . . I’d have a panic attack,” I finished. “Because I had one last weekend, and I don’t want it to happen again. Especially not at school.”

  I sank down in Mrs. Clark’s chair, and after a moment, Tania sat on the edge of her desk.

  “I get it,” she said, smiling kindly. “I’ve been there. And like I said, I was totally embarrassed. But it turned out I didn’t have to be. You know why?”

  “Why?”

  “Because my friends were so supportive,” Tania said. “My teacher, too. Once I told them about my anxiety, they were so, so nice about it. And that meant I had one less thing to worry about.”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

  “Have you told your friends?” Tania asked.

  “Just Maya,” I said, my voice thick. “I thought I could handle it by distracting myself with coding club and the talent show. That’s what my old therapist said. I thought I was better, and the panic attacks were just because when I was little I couldn’t handle anxiety.”

  Tania tilted her head. “Erin, anxiety has nothing to do with age. Adults can have anxiety, too. And it doesn’t mean they can’t handle things, or that they’re immature. It’s not necessarily something you grow out of. It’s just something you learn to manage.”

  I pictured Brave Bonnie Broomstick lying on my bed and wiped my eyes. When the bell rang, I stood up. “Thanks for listening,” I told Tania.

  “Of course.” She paused, then added, “Hey, Erin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think it’s really cool that you talked to a therapist about this.” Tania smiled at me. “Getting professional help was definitely the mature way to handle it.”

  I returned the smile, and the kn
ot in my chest loosened a little. “Thanks, Tania.”

  She waved as I left Mrs. Clark’s room. The halls were crowded by then, but I felt a million times calmer than I had in the cafeteria. Tania was right—my old therapist really did help me a lot. Finding a new one might be difficult, but I was ready to try.

  First, there was someone else I needed to talk to.

  * * *

  I thought about what Tania had said all through my afternoon classes. On the walk home, I rehearsed exactly what I was going to say to Mom. I was sort of terrible at apologizing. Not because I had a hard time admitting when I was wrong, but I’d usually end up cracking a joke to make it feel less awkward. And according to Mom, that made whomever I was apologizing to feel like I wasn’t taking it seriously.

  I got to the apartment, dropped my backpack by the door, and hurried over to the computer. A gray dot next to Dad’s name, as I expected. I wasn’t sure why I even bothered looking anymore. Sighing, I sat down and started to type in the URL for the All the Talents site. Then I stopped, drumming my fingers on the desk. After a few seconds, I opened a search engine and started typing.

  An hour later, the sound of the lock turning made me jump. I spun around in my chair as Mom walked in, then glanced at the clock on the computer screen.

  “Five thirty?” I exclaimed. “Wow, that went by fast.”

  “Homework?” Mom asked as she took off her coat.

  I shook my head. “Actually, I was . . . well, come see.” I waited until she joined me, scooting my chair over so she could look over my shoulder. “I looked up all the therapists on that list you made,” I explained, clicking from tab to tab. “And this one’s a site where patients leave anonymous reviews. I’ve been trying to use them to narrow the choices down so we can pick a few to call, but there’s just so many!”