The Code for Love and Heartbreak - Jillian Cantor Page 0,17
thought we all agreed that this dating app was a terrible idea.”
“We did not agree on anything like that,” I say quickly.
“Well...” Ms. Taylor’s voice falters a little. She shoots me a half smile, then does the same thing to Jane. “I think these are both very interesting ideas and we should take the next week or so to think things over. We still have ten days to submit our application—we’ll decide at next week’s meeting. Let’s take our time and make our idea the best we can before we send it in.”
* * *
An hour later, Izzy FaceTimes me. I pick up, and her face is covered in a green gooey face mask. “You look like a swamp monster,” I say. “Are you calling just to scare me?”
“I miss you, too, Em,” she shoots back. “I’m going out tonight and I wanted to call you earlier so I didn’t wake you up this week. How’s it going?”
We haven’t FaceTimed since last Friday night, and the truth is, I’m still a little annoyed with her. We’d texted during this past week a few times, but not as much as we had the week before and not about anything serious. I haven’t updated her on my matches, and I’m not sure I should now, either. So all I say is, “It’s going fine, Iz.”
“Yeah?” She raises her eyebrows, and her green face looks even more ridiculous.
“Where are you going tonight? You said you’re going out?” I honestly don’t care where she’s going, but I’d much rather talk about that than have her bug me about my project, or my social life, or lack thereof, again.
“John and I are going to this film festival in Hollywood. It’s all films from the ’20s and you have to dress like the era. I got this really cute flapper dress...”
She’s still talking but I’m not really listening. At the mention of her flapper dress, I remember again about all the dresses she left here in her closet and Hannah needing one for the dance. “Hey,” I interrupt her. “Speaking of dresses. Is it okay if Hannah borrows one of yours for the fall formal?”
“Okay, wait. Back up. One, who’s Hannah? And two, YOU ARE GOING TO THE FALL FORMAL?” She holds the phone so close to her face I see a blur of green and the white pearls of her teeth.
“Hannah’s a friend from coding club,” I say vaguely, not wanting to get into it again with Izzy about my app. “She needs a dress. And I’m not going, she’s going.”
Izzy pulls the phone back again, and now she’s frowning. “Okay, I’ll make a deal with you, Em. Your friend can borrow any dress she wants, as long as you borrow one and go to the dance, too.”
I have no desire to go to the dance, and normally I wouldn’t lie to Izzy. I’d just tell her the truth. But she’s so far away, and I’m still kind of annoyed with her. “Okay,” I tell her. “Fine.” Just to get her off my back.
When we hang up, I feel a little pang of guilt. I’m not actually going to borrow a dress, or go to the dance. And I’m sure George will update John and he’ll tell Izzy, and in a few weeks from now, she’ll FaceTime me with her disappointed face, which is way scarier than her green, gooey face-mask face. But I push that out of my mind for now and I text Hannah and ask her if she wants to come over and look through Izzy’s closet tomorrow.
* * *
Dad shoots me a quizzical look when the doorbell rings the next afternoon, and I jump up quickly from eating the grilled cheese sandwiches I’d made for our lunch to answer it.
“You’re expecting someone?” Dad asks, raising his eyebrows, finishing off his sandwich in one large bite.
“Yeah, some people from coding club,” I say. Hannah is coming for the dress, Sam to work on his own profile in my Excel file.
“George?” Dad asks, sounding hopeful. George follows baseball and so does Dad, and every time they see each other, Dad likes to talk about some play or another with him, and George likes to show off all the stats he knows, and Dad gets all excited about that. Which, from a mathematical perspective, I guess I can kind of understand why George cares about that. But in my opinion, actually watching baseball is pretty much like watching grass grow.