The Code for Love and Heartbreak - Jillian Cantor Page 0,16
me the app?” Sam asks in between spoonfuls of soup. “I want to try it.”
“It’s not an app...yet,” I say. “So far, it’s just an algorithm pulling from a database I created on my computer. To make it into an app, we’d need the whole club. I’d have to create it in Xcode and then we’d need Jane to put the database on a server and George to design the UI/UX and animation and...” My voice trails off on that thought, as I remember again that George is mad at me and that he has no interest in animating this app. “Anyway, we’re a long way from that. And,” I add, “you’re not even in my database. Since you’re new to the school, I didn’t have any yearbook data for you. And I couldn’t find you on social media.”
He caps his soup canister and puts it back inside his insulated lunch box, turns to me and shrugs. “I’m not on social media. But I could tell you my info. We could input it, right?” His eyes are really green, brightened by the fluorescent cafeteria lights. And they’re filled with kindness. He’s not laughing at me like Phillip was, not angry with me like George is. “I want to go to the fall formal, and I barely know anyone at school yet.”
“You know me,” I say quickly. And I put my hand to my mouth, realizing as soon as the words are out how it sounded, like I want to go to the fall formal with him. I quickly clarify: “I mean, thank goodness you know me, so I can find a match for you.”
“Yeah.” Sam flashes me that smile of his that makes me feel warm and happy. “Thank goodness I know you.”
Chapter 7
On Friday, George and Jane walk into coding club carrying a huge chart on a bright green poster board. George has made a cute drawing of a recycling can with googly eyes that I assume he would bring to life with animation in whatever this world-saving idea of his is.
“What’s this?” Ms. Taylor asks, smiling at George.
“We have our own prototype,” Jane says with a smirk in my direction, and I want to roll my eyes so bad, but normally the person I’d roll them at in this situation would be George, and he won’t even look at me.
I hold my thumb drive in my hand, clasping it hard against my palm. I’d come prepared with my new database to show off, and my update about Hannah and Phillip. Phillip also texted me last night saying he has a friend, Jason, on cross-country who wants a match, and Sam still wants a match, too. He plans to come over this weekend so we can input his data. But Jane is still going on about her prototype—hers and George’s—and I bite my lip and let them talk.
“Basically it’s an app to track your recycling,” George is saying now. “You can connect with your friends and compete to see who recycles the most in any given week.”
Sam catches my eye across the room, and gives me a half smile, a shrug, as if to say what I’m already thinking: our matching app is so much more original and interesting.
“I don’t get it,” Robert interrupts, surprising all of us. I think it’s the first time he’s spoken up at any of our meetings. His voice is deeper and more confident than I would’ve expected. Jane shoots him an icy stare, but he keeps talking. “What do you get if you win? What’s the point?”
“You collect them in the app,” Jane says. “And then when you get a lot, you feel good about yourself.”
And George texted John to complain about me? Maybe I should text Izzy and tell her John needs to worry about George’s animated trash can and his karma points.
“I don’t think that would make me feel good about myself,” Sam is saying now. “I like Emma’s idea better.”
I shoot him a grateful smile, unclasp my thumb drive and put it into my laptop, bringing my Excel file and algorithm flowchart up on the screen. I update everyone about Hannah and Phillip, and also how I plan to work on new matches this weekend for Jason from cross-country and our very own Sam. At the mention of his name, Jane turns her icy gaze toward him, and Sam shrugs a little in response.