with some basketball term Brian and Daniel liked.
“How about The Code for Love?” Sam speaks up, and I remember how he texted me that phrase a few weeks ago, when he saw Ms. Taylor and Mr. Weston at the mall. How he said that I wrote the code for love. But then I think, Love? Is that what he feels for Laura? He didn’t even mention her at all at my house the other night as the two of us had laughed and shared our pizza and I’d showed him how the flowchart worked.
“Simple. To the point. I like it,” Ms. Taylor is saying now.
We all murmur in agreement. And Sam catches my eye. I smile at him, and he smiles back. He doesn’t love Laura. He just came up with a good title.
“Okay,” George says. “The Code for Love, it is.”
* * *
Hannah stops over the next morning to pick up her dress. Her mom waits in the car in the driveway, because she’s shuttling Hannah off to a hair appointment next. Hannah is practically buzzing with excitement about the dance—her whole body seems to vibrate with it as she climbs up the stairs with me.
“What do you think?” Hannah asks me, about her hair, as we walk into Izzy’s room to grab the dress. “Up or down?” She stands in front of the floor-length mirror, sweeps her hair up with her hands, turns to the side, frowns, then drops it again, red curls bouncing against her shoulders.
“I’m not sure,” I say. This is a question Izzy would’ve asked me last year. I would’ve just picked one, and then Izzy would’ve frowned and done the opposite. “Up?” I guess, wondering whether I’ve given the right or wrong answer.
Hannah grabs her hair again, piles it on top of her head with her hands and smiles a little in the mirror. “Yes, I think you’re right,” she says. Am I?
She drops her hair again, grabs me in a quick and unexpected hug and then takes the dress. “I’ll see you later at the dance?” she says.
“Oh, no, I’m not going,” I say quickly.
“What? Emma! You have to.”
“Why?” I say. Then I add, “I hate dances.” They are worse, in my mind, than shopping at the mall. Too many people, too loud. Everyone is sweaty and packed into the gym too close together. No thanks.
“But you set all those people up.” Hannah is still talking. “And I need a friend there!”
“Well, Sam is going.” I wonder if Laura will wear her raven hair up or down, and what color dress she’ll wear. And if Sam will look at her the way he looks at me, when he smiles in that sweet way he does, like we share a secret.
Suddenly, Hannah’s mom honks from the driveway, and the sound makes us both jump. Hannah frowns and glances at her phone. “I’m gonna be late for my hair appointment. But please come, Emma. Please?”
* * *
After she leaves I think about what she said. I do hate dances, but maybe someone should monitor all the matches I’ve made, to judge if my algorithm actually works. Our matches have agreed to go to a dance together, but will they actually get along? Will they like each other, never mind love each other? Mathematically, they should. But will they? Math is reliable and perfect. People aren’t.
I text George and tell him what Hannah said, and I ask him if he’s planning on going.
Yeah, he texts back. I’m going to pick Jane up at 6:30. Want me to pick you up, too?
Pick Jane up?
You’re taking Jane to the dance?
Yep.
Oh, okay. Never mind...
Not like that...I’m driving her. Drive with us?
I don’t know... If you’re going I don’t need to. You can monitor our matches without me. Text me later?
No way! This was your brilliant idea. I’m picking you up at 6:20. Be ready.
Chapter 10
The last time I went to the fall formal it was that time in tenth grade when Izzy set me up with Richard Hall. He’d held on to me too tightly as we’d slow-danced, and then surprised me with that disgusting kiss. I feel a knot in my stomach walking back toward the gym now, the floor in the hallway outside pulsating from the music. I remember that night again and it makes me feel a little nauseous, even though two years have passed, Richard graduated last year and tonight I’m walking in at an arm’s-length distance, in between Jane and George.
I’d picked a