I’ve heard about activists sitting in trees so they won’t get cut down or chaining themselves to fences to save a historic building from a wrecking ball, but I never realized there were people—and kids—using cyberspace to make the world a better place.
Umberto’s coding partner might have a cool British accent, but MY partner is a techie superhero!
CLASH OF THE TITANS
Unlike me, Carly is not so impressed with Jade’s skills.
“What’s wrong with protesting things IRL—with a placard and chants?” she asks. “I don’t trust somebody who only slinks around on the Internet.”
“I doubt she’s slinking,” I say. “Not with those boots anyway. All I know is we finished our project in no time.” I turn to face Carly as she opens her locker. “I thought you said she was smart—or are you just envious that the entire school is obsessed with her apps?”
“I am not! And by the way—just a couple of weeks ago YOU were the one threatening to transfer to another school to get away from that Pirate Kittens theme song.”
I can’t deny Carly’s comeback, so I keep my mouth shut. But it doesn’t take long for her to start venting again. “She uses those cat ears and eyelash filters on Snapchat, so she’s not the edgy rebel you think she is.” She slams her locker closed. “I hate those stupid filters.”
“OMG, you’re stalking her on social media! You told me you refused to follow her.”
“Her stories are terrible,” Carly answers. “And I’m not stalking!”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Carly this jealous before. I may be at the bottom half of my class in terms of grades, but I’m smart enough not to share that thought out loud with Carly.
I end up running into Jade several times during the day. As we walk to science, she tells me she’s always loved technical stuff, that she used to rip open calculators in kindergarten just to play with the parts.
“I love the innards of anything electronic,” she continues. “I used to solder my brother’s Matchbox cars and turn them into robots. My parents stopped me at alarm clocks, and even though I begged, microwaves were off-limits.”
She tells me how her parents sneak her into DEFCON every year. I’m a little embarrassed that she has to explain what it is—a giant convention in Las Vegas for computer geeks. “You’re supposed to be sixteen to attend,” she says. “But my dad usually does a presentation, so I’m in, no questions asked.”
Turns out Jade’s parents are both in the software business, which explains her learning to code at such an early age. I guess it’s similar to me being a natural cartoonist like my dad.
“My father invented software that detects malware,” Jade continues. “It’s the best protection against computer viruses on the market.”
If I made a list of the smartest kids I know, Umberto and Carly would be at the top, but Jade is earning a place alongside them.
When I tell her this, she shrugs. “I can’t speak for your friends, but personally the whole prodigy thing is overrated. I just like working hard and staying busy.”
Jade waves me off and turns down the hall toward her classroom at the same moment that Matt tackles me outside science.
“You’re turning into a full-fledged nerd,” he teases. “Bags under your eyes, weird friends.” He gestures toward Jade. “What’s with her anyway? Seems like a snob.”
I tell Matt that Jade is pretty much in her own little world.
“We all are,” Matt responds. “And mine is riding skateboards after school. You in?”
I’ve been so busy writing code and making sure Carly’s okay that I haven’t been on my board in a while. I tell Matt I’ll meet him at our usual spot at UCLA.
“Awesome. I invited Jason from my comedy class too. This kid’s hilarious. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh, cool.” But an unpleasant feeling washes over me as we part ways. Racing across UCLA as if it’s our own personal skate park is a thing Matt and I have always done together. Why does it bother me so much that he invited someone else to join us this time?
At least my conversation with Jade today made me feel a little better about my coding skills. She’s been surrounded by computer language since she was really young; she SHOULD be better than I am. It’s like Charlie Hatfield having a dad who’s a virtuoso guitarist; no one was surprised when Charlie won a national scholarship to a fancy guitar camp in fifth grade. Sometimes what you’re good at comes from your family; sometimes you gravitate toward things because of your friends—which makes me even happier to be skateboarding with Matt tonight.
Even if he did invite a third wheel—I mean, a new friend.
MOUNT KILIMANJARO
She’s only been to the ranch once but Carly’s already on a mission to bring a few of the therapy horses to school. Nancy loves the idea and has a long phone conversation with Principal Demetri about the details. According to Carly, Nancy told him how the horses have visited other schools in our area with great success. Principal Demetri was hesitant until Carly shared how working with Maggie really helped quell her anxiety. Thanks to Carly’s efforts—and honesty—Maggie and Leonardo will be attending school with us all day.
“I can’t remember the last time I was this excited,” Carly says on our way in. “At another school Maggie went to, there was a girl who hadn’t spoken in two years who suddenly leapt up and started speaking to Maggie. Talk about a miracle!”
No one actually WAS talking about miracles. Still, Carly is so enthusiastic I don’t want to burst her bubble.
But as soon as we walk through the front door of the school, something feels wrong—a weird combination of chaos and quiet.
If anyone will know what’s going on, it’s Matt, so we hurry down the hall. When we find him, he doesn’t say a word, just points to his empty locker. “Every locker—in the ENTIRE school—is EMPTY!”
“Somebody stole all our stuff?!” My mind goes to the collectible Lakers jacket Dad got me that’s been adorning the inside of my locker for months.
“That’s the weird part,” Matt continues. “Nothing was stolen.” He walks us away from the rows of empty lockers to the gym. In the middle of the basketball court is a giant mountain of STUFF.
I can’t help but think about how long it would take to write code for every single item in this pyramid of our possessions.
I run to the pile to pick out what’s mine but Matt holds me back. “Demetri’s putting a schedule together for each class to comb through the volcano of clothes and books,” Matt says. “I already got a warning for trying to cannonball from the bleachers.”
Carly stares at the mound of sweaters, backpacks, and books. “What if our stuff is gone by the time our class gets to search through it? What if someone takes things that aren’t theirs?”
“This must’ve taken all night.” Matt shakes his head. “I can’t decide if this is the best prank of all time or the worst.”
As we discuss whether our soccer rivals across town would stoop this low, Carly suddenly grabs my arm. “The horses are coming today—maybe they can help!”
“How?” asks Matt. “By eating the leftover lunches in that mountain of junk?”
Carly races to the office while Matt and I watch the confusion grow in the middle of the gym.
Umberto skids beside us. “There were lots of steps to pull this off. First, you’d have to get the combinations to every single locker.”
Matt interrupts, “Our school has a supervillain!”
Umberto ignores him. “Then you’d have to have a shopping cart or something to haul everything to the gym.”
“Or a wheelchair.” Matt jokingly elbows Umberto.
“A wheelbarrow would work,” I say, getting the conversation back on track.
“Plus,” Umberto continues, “you’d probably have to dismantle the security cameras.” He wheels closer to the edge of the pile and takes it all in. “This was definitely not a one-person job. The kids who did this were pros.”
There are a few oohs
and aahs when Carly escorts Nancy down the hall with Maggie and Leonardo. Natalie snaps a picture, then heads toward the gym.
Carly introduces Nancy to Matt and Umberto. “This is the perfect day to be here,” Carly says. “I’m sure Maggie and Leonardo can help everyone deal with this.”
Nancy doesn’t seem so sure. “I don’t know, Carly. I think kids might be preoccupied with recovering their property.”
I watch Carly’s face fall to the floor.
“Let’s reschedule for another day,” Nancy suggests. Carly nods and joins Nancy in leading the horses back outside.
When it’s our class’s turn to scavenge through the pile, I anxiously scan for the purple and gold of my Lakers jacket. That jacket cost my dad a bundle after last year’s playoffs; I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to pretend I lost it.
I’m relieved when Matt walks over wearing it. “Finders keepers,” he says. “Good luck getting it back.”
“You can wear it till tomorrow as a token of my appreciation,” I answer. “Then it’s mine.”
I check in with Carly to make sure she’s recovered all her things. I’m glad when she says everything is accounted for.
“It’s too bad the horses didn’t work out,” I say. “Next time will be better.”
“If there is a next time.” Carly hangs her head and covers her face with her bangs the way she does when she doesn’t want anyone to see she’s upset.
We wait for the bus in silence, mostly because I don’t want to say the wrong thing.
THE AFTERMATH
After such a major security breach, Principal Demetri goes on a rampage. There are suddenly two security guards patrolling the halls and announcements about new trespassing and vandalizing rules over the PA system several times a day.
“It’s a war zone,” Matt says. “I feel like any minute one of these guards is going to throw me against the wall and frisk me.”
“It’s not that bad,” I respond. “But if the perpetrator’s goal was to shake up the entire school, mission accomplished.”
It also seems like the locker hijinks unleashed a tsunami of homework. Ms. Miller, Mr. Maroni, and Ms. McCoddle all give record amounts of assignments.
“If I ever find out who emptied our lockers, I’m going to stuff him in one myself,” Matt says. “I’ve got three chapters to read for history tonight—thanks a lot, Mystery Prowler.”
The rest of the week is spent with our heads buried in books—not my favorite place to be. By the time coding class comes around, my brain is ready to explode in an avalanche of words and numbers.
“Today,” Ms. Felix begins, “we’re going to look at some of the contributions women have made to the field of computer science. Has anyone ever heard of Grace Hopper?”
Before Jade can raise her hand, Umberto does.
“She was a rear admiral in the navy and was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom.”
I’m wondering what all this military stuff has to do with computer science when Jade chimes in. “She helped create the computer language COBOL in 1959 and invented one of the first linkers. Grace Hopper also made the first compiler—she even coined the term.”
Judging from the looks around the room, it’s safe to say I’m not the only one who has no idea what Jade is talking about. I raise my hand. “And in English that means…?”
“COBOL is ‘COmmon Business Oriented Language,’” Ms. Felix explains. “It’s been the standard programming language for large data mainframes since it was invented. And who can tell us what a compiler is?”
“It’s a fancy word for translator,” Jade says without raising her hand. “A compiler takes commands in one programming language and translates it into another. Like when you want to find out how to say things in French or Japanese.”
Ms. Felix is impressed and tells us more about this naval officer who kicked butt in the computer world. “They called her Amazing Grace,” Ms. Felix says. “She was a real pioneer in the field, building upon the first prototypes of program writing. And would you believe the person who conceived of the earliest code was also a woman—from the 1800s.”
WHAT?!
“That’s before computers were even invented!” I say.
“Crazy, right?” Ms. Felix cranks open one of the windows as she talks until the din of lawn mowers drowns her out. “Ada Lovelace is often referred to as the first computer programmer, although some say that her mentor, Charles Babbage, did most of the work.”
Jade sighs loud enough for the whole class to hear. “That always happens—people downplay the contribution of women.”
Even though I’ve never heard of these women before, it’s kind of cool they laid the groundwork for all the things we use computers and phones for today.
“The work of these and other coders is the reason why every school has STEAM programs,” Ms. Felix says. “It’s important for you kids to realize how much power is in your hands but to also realize you’re standing on the shoulders of giants.”
I know Ms. Felix means that other people’s efforts paved the way for the technology we use now, but the image of me standing on top of Andre the Giant as he fights John Cena is in my head for the rest of the day.
Ms. Felix gives us our next assignment—to create GIFs for the school’s website. I lean back in my chair; I’ve been creating GIFs for years—piece of cake.
“But here’s the catch,” she continues, “it’s not the GIF I’m interested in. It’s the compression.”
Ohhhhhhhh.
Ms. Felix taught us about compression during our last class—how there’s so much data in a program that you have to write ANOTHER program to make the data smaller. She wants us to work in the same pairs, which means Umberto and I will never get to team up. Jade rubs her hands together, probably excited at the prospect of doing something a little more challenging.
But I’m wrong.
“I automatically compress my files,” she whispers, “so this assignment is pretty much done.”
That’s bad news in terms of learning, but good news in terms of my homework load. Her confession is music to my ears.
“Here’s what we can do instead.” Jade hands me a sheet of paper.
“I’m good. Thanks anyway.”
But she still shoves the paper toward me. “Let’s face it—Ms. Felix put us together because she knew you’d need help.”
“She said that?”
“Just because I’m way ahead, I don’t want to cheat you out of a learning opportunity. You can do this instead. It’s for the sequel to Pirate Kittens.”
I tell her I already have plans to go to Dave & Buster’s with Umberto this weekend. Then again, it WOULD be nice to have bragging rights on a game that’s sure to sweep the school. I stare at the piece of paper and take Jade up on this bonus project—which will surely mean delaying my precious goof-off time.
“Hello? Earth to Derek?” Jade says. “You want to be a coder or not?”
The answer is yes. Yes, I do.
I tuck the page into my notebook and mentally gear up for several nights of work. Hopefully Umberto will understand.
SATURDAY BLUES
Here’s a question—can you still call it a weekend if you spend every second working? Saturday starts off fine, with banana-pecan pancakes—thanks, Dad—and a Skype call to my grammy in Boston. Mom must’ve forwarded her pictures of Carly and me at the ranch, because Grammy asks if I’m going to visit the miniature horses again with “my girlfriend.” I tell my grandmother for the millionth time that Carly is NOT my girlfriend, but it’s a one-sided joke she insists on telling whenever we talk. I love my grammy and listen attentively to her kidding around, but she needs to get some new material.
It turns out Carly IS at the ranch today. She bugged her mother so much that Mrs. Rodriquez carved out some time to drive to Calabasas so Carly could “introduce” them. She sends me a selfie with Maggie and Leonardo. I’d bet every dollar I ever got in a birthday card that Carly’s asking Nancy if she can br
ing the horses to school again. That girl is like a dog with a bone when she gets an idea in her head.
The rest of the day is a repetition of every other day this week. Numbers, letters, parentheses, greater-than symbols, less-than symbols, periods, underscores … By dinnertime, I stare at the screen and can’t decide if I spent the whole day working on something meaningful or pointless.
Dad hands me a plate of his famous chicken and dumplings. “Nice focus today! Very diligent!”
I nod and take a seat at the table.
Today was a lame excuse for a Saturday but having dumplings for dinner almost makes up for it.
Mom’s at a “girls’ night” at her friend Janine’s so after dinner, Dad and I retire to the den for video games. Even though Mom loves it when Dad and I spend quality time together, she isn’t keen on us staring at a TV while we do it. “There are so many other ways to have fun,” Mom would say if she were here. But she’s NOT here, so Dad and I settle onto the couch for a Fortnite marathon.
My Life as a Coder Page 6