The next fifteen minutes were full of amazing images, still and animated, all created on a computer and then displayed on billboards and screens, along with clothing designs, video games, and lights that reacted to music.
Halfway through the video, some kids in the back lost interest and started talking about a new movie coming out. Lucy twisted in her seat and shushed them, earning her some murderous stares and a “Nerd!”
“You’re in here, too, you know,” I shot back at them.
Lucy gave me a grateful smile and mouthed a thank-you.
At the end of the video, Mrs. Clark turned the lights back on and said, “Ready? Here’s your exercise.”
We all exchanged puzzled glances, but took out our notebooks.
“I would like you to list as many ways as possible to incorporate coding, both functional and creative, into the upcoming school dance.” Mrs. Clark pointed to the clock on the wall. “You have three minutes. Go.”
My friends and I huddled together.
“I’ll jot the ideas down,” volunteered Erin, waggling her pencil.
“Okay. Um . . . you could use code to take song requests,” said Sophia.
“And to program a robot to greet people,” said Leila.
Erin pointed at the screen we’d been watching. “You can program the lights to flicker to the beats of songs.”
“You could have light-up squares on the dance floor,” I said.
“Or create an app for ticket sales,” said Lucy.
“You could program a robot to dance,” said Leila.
I shook my head. “We already did that at the hackathon.”
“Right. So we know it works,” said Leila.
“But that’s old. We need new ideas,” I said.
Mrs. Clark, who happened to be walking among the groups, stopped at ours. “Let’s remember that when we’re brainstorming, every idea is valid.”
I blushed a little but nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Clark.”
Erin added Leila’s idea to the list.
“You could program a confetti cannon to go off,” said Sophia.
“Ooh, and a balloon drop!” said Erin, writing furiously.
“Shhh. We don’t want other groups to hear,” Lucy whispered.
We lowered our voices, but when I looked around, the other groups seemed to be finished and just waiting for time to run out.
“Going off Erin’s idea, how about bracelets that flash to the beat of the music?” I asked.
“Or a fog machine,” said Lucy. She slapped her desk with a hand. “No, a bubble machine!” She definitely wasn’t following her own command to keep our voices down.
“And . . . time!” said Mrs. Clark.
Erin lowered her pencil, and we all leaned back in our seats. “Eleven ideas. Not bad!” she said.
Mrs. Clark walked among the groups, collecting idea sheets. I was pleased to see the other teams had much shorter lists.
“Very impressive,” said Mrs. Clark after she’d read each list aloud. “I’m glad some of you were paying attention to the video.” She gave a pointed look to the kids Lucy had shushed. “But we have a clear winner for sheer volume of ideas.” She gestured to me and my friends, and we cheered.
“That’s not fair,” Bradley spoke up. “We were trying to come up with the best ideas, not a whole list of lame ones.”
“Yeah, who wants to go to a dance with a bubble machine?” someone else added.
“Hey, all ideas are valid,” I informed them. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Clark smile.
“Maya makes an excellent point,” she said. “And now for the special surprise I mentioned. The principal has asked the coding club to design a feature for the dance since we fit the future theme so well—we basically are the future.” Mrs. Clark turned to my team. “As the winning team, you may choose and control that feature.”
My friends and I cheered even louder.
“Seriously unfair,” Bradley said. Other kids grumbled their agreement.
“We would’ve tried harder if we knew the rules and what we were playing for,” said Grace.
Mrs. Clark remained impassive. “There was only one rule: write as many ideas as you can. And it shouldn’t matter what you’re playing for. You should always want to do your best work.”
“If you guys want, you can help with whatever we choose for the dance,” Lucy offered.
“Yeah, someone might need to fill up the bubble machine,” said Erin with a teasing grin.
Later, when my friends and I were leaving coding club, Leila asked, “Um . . . we’re not really doing the bubble machine, are we?” She put her hand on Lucy’s arm. “No offense.”
Lucy waved her off. “Please. If we’re going to be featured at a futuristic dance, I don’t want to be remembered for a bubble machine.”
“But that brings up a good question,” said Erin. “What should we do?”
The five of us walked in thoughtful silence until I cleared my throat.
“Not to sound biased, but I like my light-up bracelet idea,” I said. “At first everyone will think they’re wearing cheesy plastic bracelets. Then suddenly the beat drops.” I pointed to an imaginary bracelet on my wrist. “And the party begins.”
My friends laughed.
“How many people are going to this dance?” asked Sophia.
Since I was on the dance committee, I knew the exact count. “A hundred and three.”
Sophia shook her head. “Sorry, Maya, but there’s no way the school will pay for that many sound-reactive bracelets.”
“We could add the cost of the bracelet to the price of the dance ticket,” I suggested.
“The dance is a week away,” pointed out Leila. “Most people have already bought their tickets.”
“Which throws out my ticket app idea,” said Lucy.
We settled on the floor by the front entrance of school to watch for our parents’ cars.
“Okay, so, no bubble machine, no light-up bracelets, and no ticket app,” said Erin. She pulled out the list and a pencil, scratching through ideas.
“What are our other options?” asked Sophia.
Erin read them off, crossing out fog machine, confetti machine, and balloon drop for not being, in her words, “epic” enough.
“Since this dance is in the gym, I think we also have to get rid of the light-up-dance-floor idea,” said Lucy. “That space is so big, it’ll cost way too much.”
Leila sighed. “And if we’re looking to make a big impact, I’ll give up my robot ideas, too.”
Erin held up her list. “That leaves taking song requests or setting up the lights to react to music.”
“With bracelets to match,” I said quickly.
My friends groaned and protested.
“They would make great souvenirs!” I tried again.
“I vote for lights,” said Erin, holding up a hand.
“Lights,” said Leila, holding up her hand, too. So did Lucy and Sophia.
All four looked at me.
“If you’re not getting the bracelets, this is the next best thing,” Leila pointed out.
“Fine,” I muttered, raising my hand.
“Great!” Erin circled it on the list. “We’ll let Mrs. Clark know tomorrow. I’ll bet she can get us permission to meet in the library during homeroom.”
“My ride’s here.” Sophia got to her feet. “See you guys tomorrow!”
I glanced out the front door and saw her parents’ minivan pull up, along with Leila’s dad’s car.
“I’m out, too. Later!” she said.
One by one my friends left, but my stepdad didn’t show. I was about to text him when Lucy poked her head in from the front door and said, “Maya, there are some ladies here to pick you up.”
“Ladies?” I repeated, getting to my f
eet.
I didn’t recognize the car outside, but then the rear passenger window rolled down, and Nicole’s face appeared.
“Maya! We’re taking you home today!” she shouted.
I waved goodbye to Lucy and approached the car slowly. I’d never met Nicole’s parents, so I didn’t know what to expect. But when the front passenger window rolled down, it was Nicole’s aunt Liz who smiled up at me.
“Hey, Maya! Great to see you!”
Liz’s girlfriend, Ash, leaned over from the driver’s side.
“Hi, stranger!”
“Hi!” I smiled at them and climbed into the back seat next to Nicole. “Nicole, I figured you’d be with your parents.”
She shook her head. “They’re still finalizing things at our old house, so I’m staying with my aunts for now.” She bounced excitedly in her seat. “Oh! And your stepdad said you could come over for dinner, which is why we picked you up.”
“If I remember, you like pizza,” said Liz, glancing over her shoulder at me.
“Who doesn’t?” I replied with a grin.
“Nicole tells us you’re in a coding club,” said Ash, pulling the car away from the curb. “That sounds fun.”
“It is,” I said. “And my group won a contest in our meeting today, so we get to program the lights for the school dance. We’re going to have them pulse to the music.”
“Awesome!” said Liz, reaching back for a high five.
I slapped her palm. “I thought we could take it further and give everyone a bracelet that pulses to the music.”
“Oh my gosh, yes! Do that!” said Nicole, nodding so hard, her earrings swung back and forth.
I shook my head. “The other girls voted against it.”
“Pfft. They’re crazy,” Nicole scoffed. “Your idea sounds way better. Bracelets would be like souvenirs from the dance.”
I threw my hands in the air. “That’s exactly what I said!”
“Genius is never appreciated in its own time,” said Ash.
Nicole clucked her tongue. “Yeah, your friends don’t appreciate you!”
I thought for a moment. “They really don’t.” I sighed deeply and leaned back in the seat.
Nicole bumped me. “You know what might make you feel better? Face squash.”
Ash and Liz chuckled from the front, and I tilted my head.
“What’s face squash?” I asked.
“It’s exactly like it sounds,” said Liz.
Nicole grinned. “My aunts came up with it. They have a copy machine, so you press your cheek against the glass, close your eyes, and make a copy of your squashed face. The image is hilarious.” She pulled out her phone and showed me some of the images she’d saved.
I couldn’t help laughing. “Sure, why not?”
So while Ash and Liz ordered pizza, Nicole and I hung out in their home office, photocopying our faces in all sorts of weird expressions. When we shared our photocopies with Liz and Ash at dinner, they laughed, too.
“I love these the most.” Liz held up two papers.
“Those poses were Maya’s idea,” said Nicole. “She always comes up with the best stuff.”
I blushed and grabbed a piece of pizza. “Yours were good, too!”
“Yeah, but adding the little ‘Help me!’ speech bubble? That was genius.”
Liz and Ash carried their plates to the dining room, and Nicole and I followed.
“You know what would be so funny?” she said. “If we taped those pictures on the bulletin boards at school.”
I giggled. “Or if we taped them in classroom windows, like we’re actually smashed against the glass.”
Nicole squealed with laughter. “Dude, you are so clever.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling at her with newfound admiration.
She was right. I was clever.
So why couldn’t my friends from coding club see it?
Chapter Four
Parents always seem to know when you’re having too much fun. They also know the sentence that can stop it: Time to come home.
That was the text I got from Mom while Nicole and I were in her kitchen, eating ice cream.
I lowered my spoon with a sigh. “Nicole, I have to go.”
“Now?” She asked around a mouthful of Rocky Road. “But we were gonna read Teen Vogue and get disappointed about the clothes we can’t afford.”
“Some other time,” I said. “Can one of your aunts take me home?”
My house was only a few blocks away, but I’d seen enough TV crime dramas to know not to walk alone after dark.
“Sure,” Liz said when Nicole asked. “I can take you.” She reached for my ice cream bowl, and I handed it over.
“Thanks,” I said. “For everything.”
“Of course! We’re always happy to see you,” said Liz.
The sentiment was not the same at my house.
When I walked through our front door, Mom was leaning against the entry wall, arms crossed. I jumped when I saw her.
“Jeez!” I put a hand over my pounding heart. “Have you been standing there since you texted me?”
“Oliver says Liz Davis picked you up from school today,” Mom said by way of response. “And that you were hanging out with her niece, Nicole.”
Uh-oh.
“Um . . . I was,” I said, pulling off my boots.
“Please tell me Liz has two nieces named Nicole,” said Mom. “And this isn’t the girl you got into trouble with last summer.”
“No, it’s the same one. But she’s changed.” I picked up my boots and headed toward my bedroom.
“Changed . . . from shoplifting to grand theft auto?” asked Mom, following me down the hall. “Does she want you to be part of her street crew?”
I gazed up at the ceiling before turning to respond. “First of all, I’m only thirteen. No gang will take me in yet.”
Mom opened her mouth, but when she realized I was joking, she clamped it shut.
“Second, Nicole changed in a good way,” I said. “She apologized.”
“Ohhh. She apologized.” Mom pretended to wipe sweat off her forehead. “I feel better.”
“You should! I do.”
“Because you’re young and naïve.” Mom held my face in her hands. “Sweetheart, this girl will do anything to get back into your good graces. She misses having a partner in crime.”
I backed out of Mom’s hands. “She does not.”
“Really?” Mom crossed her arms again. “Did she start apologizing as soon as she saw you?”
“No, ha!” I said smugly. “She hugged me first.”
Mom smirked. “But she did apologize pretty quickly. Has she given you any gifts? Maybe something she knows you love?”
“Pfft. No!” I said.
Gum didn’t count as a gift, did it?
“She will,” said Mom.
“Whatever,” I replied. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I walked through the living room, and Mom followed.
“I don’t want you spending time with her, Maya. She’s trouble.”
I spun to face her. “What if she is?” I put my hands on my hips. “You think I’ll go along with whatever she says?”
“You did this summer,” Mom argued.
“I didn’t know better. I do now!”
Oliver emerged from his study. “It’s getting a little loud out here. Everything okay?”
“No. Tell her to stay out of my business.” I glared at Mom, who set her jaw.
“And tell her to listen to reason,” said Mom.
Oliver looked from Mom to me. “I feel like you’re standing close enough to have heard each other.”
Mom pointed at me. “I forbid you to spend time with Nicole.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.”
Oliver waved his arms. “Let’s not lay down ultimatums just yet.”
The fiery look he got from Mom should’ve burned off his eyebrows.
“If Nicole says she’s changed, shouldn’t we wait for her to do wrong before we mistrust her?” asked Oliver.
“That’s terrible logic,” said Mom. “Do you wait for a hurricane to hit before you decide it could do any damage?”
Oliver frowned. “I think you might be overreacting.”
Mom’s eyes widened, and she turned to face him. That was my cue to escape.
“Overreacting?” I heard her say. “Did you forget—”
I closed my bedroom door and heaved a sigh of relief. I knew Mom wasn’t a Nicole fan, but I didn’t realize she disliked her this much.
I pulled out my phone to text Nicole and saw that I’d missed a string of texts from Erin. The first one started off pretty normal.
hey maya!
By the seventh one, she’d gotten a little frantic.
talk to me, please!!! i can’t stand the silence
And that text came three minutes after the first.
I dialed her number, and she picked up right away.
“Oh, thank God! I thought you were mad at me, too!”
“Uh . . . hello. And no, I was being yelled at by my mother,” I said. “Why would I be mad at you, too?” I paused. “Who else is mad?”
“Well, Sophia got snippy when I asked her what she was wearing to the dance,” said Erin. “Then Lucy barked at me when I was complaining about what to wear to the dance. And then you got mad when you didn’t get your way with the light-up bracelets.”
I bristled at her choice of words. “I wasn’t mad because I didn’t ‘get my way.’ I’m not a spoiled brat.”
“Of course you’re not!” Erin was quick to agree. “Man, I am really bad with words today.”
“It’s fine,” I said, sitting on the floor. “I was just upset because nobody considered my ideas.”
“I did,” she said. “But Sophia’s right. Those bracelets would be expensive, and we don’t have a big budget. This is a school dance with punch from the cafeteria that’s been watered down to serve more people.”
I smiled. “That’s incredibly specific.”
Lights, Music, Code! Page 3