The Code for Love and Heartbreak - Jillian Cantor Page 0,3
George. But we have four weeks to get a proposal together for this project. If you could figure out a way to solve global warming in four weeks, I think you’d win a Nobel Prize. And then who cares about the state competition—you would get a full ride to any college you want.”
He smiles, relenting that my logic has won over his ideals, for now. And then his whole face relaxes, making him look younger again, like the George I remember from sixth grade when we first met, when his family moved to Highbury and he joined my middle school mathlete team. He was shorter and skinnier than I was back then, and pretty quiet, too. So when he first joined the team as this small, slight new kid, I saw him as no threat at all. Until he beat me out on the state level for the championship, and I realized, for the first time, that when it came to numbers, I finally had a worthy opponent. Of course, now he’s half a foot taller than I am, and he’s not at all quiet anymore. He’s still a worthy opponent. But ever since sixth grade, I’ve known to take him seriously. He hasn’t beat me at anything since.
“We could always build another robot,” he says now.
That was our project last year—the brainchild of Brian and Daniel, the two seniors on our team. We built a robot and programmed her to play basketball on a twelve-by-twelve replica of a court. Two of the presentation judges thought we were brilliant—the third judge said you can’t really play basketball alone, not even if you’re a robot. But to me, it seemed like a beautiful design, to figure out a way to play a team sport, all alone. And it was pretty amazing to watch her roll down the court and shoot a basket, and to realize that we had programmed her to do that. We’d ended up in third place, and I’m not sure we’d do any better this year, even if we programmed her to play a more solo sport. Besides, the robot was Brian and Daniel’s. I want something that’s mine, now that I’m a senior and club president. Well, mine and George’s.
“We should do our own thing,” I say. “I just have to think of something no one else will think to do.” George gets a half smile on his face, looks at me funny, then looks away. “What?” I say. He shakes his head. “No, what?”
He puts his hand on my arm, and my first thought is that his fingers are warm, and my skin is cool now that we’re inside and the A/C is on. And my second is that I should pull away, because George and I aren’t the kind of friends who touch each other’s arms or hug or anything like that. Except for some reason, I don’t move.
“It’s nothing,” he finally says. “It’s just that...you’re not like anyone else, Emma. Of course you’re going to think of something no one else will.”
I try to decide if that’s an insult or a compliment, or maybe somewhere in between: just a solid fact. Then the doorbell rings, and George pulls his hand away quickly, jumping up.
“Our pizza,” he says.
And as he runs to get it, I feel something weird in my stomach. Not hunger exactly, and not the loneliness I’ve been feeling all week missing Izzy, but something else. Something I’m not sure I quite have the words to describe.
Chapter 2
First thing Monday morning, I’m in Ms. Taylor’s counseling office, having signed up for her first available appointment to discuss my college applications. Going to Stanford next year is something I’ve wanted since I learned to code in fifth grade. Stanford is the leader in tech and right there in the middle of Silicon Valley. Not only would their coursework be the best for my future career in coding, but it would also practically ensure my place in that world after college. Palo Alto is where I belong.
My desire for Stanford has only been tempered slightly these past few months by the fact that Izzy, last minute, and completely on what felt like a whim, decided on UCLA. I always assumed she’d stay nearby for college. But now I feel a little pang in my chest at the thought of Dad, stranded out here in New Jersey all alone, with only his work. Who will make sure he eats and who will do the laundry,