the car and says hi, almost like nothing ever happened at all. So I decide not to tell him yet that I’ve been thinking about what Izzy said about John making her laugh, and that I’ve been taking another look at my algorithm, considering that maybe I have the categories weighted all wrong. We drive to school in silence, and I can’t tell whether it’s that nice silence we usually have or whether George is really mad at me.
“You study for calc?” George finally asks as we get out of the car and walk toward the school together. He doesn’t sound mad at all. He sounds quiet and sweet and kind...like George.
I nod. Of course I studied. If he thinks this app is going to distract me from my real goal this year, becoming valedictorian, beating him, then he doesn’t know me at all.
“It’s not your fault, what happened at the dance, you know,” George says quietly. “If anything, it’s my fault.”
“No. I never should’ve said you were trying to sabotage the app. I know you wouldn’t really do that.” I stop walking and turn to look at him.
His face is downcast; he’s staring at his shoes—back in his beat-up old gray Converse today, which look much more George than the shiny black shoes and wool suit from Saturday night. His clothes look so much more George, but I haven’t ever seen him looking this dismayed before.
“This is not your fault,” I say gently. “You didn’t even want to go along with my app to begin with. And you are not responsible for Phillip using us.” As I say all this out loud, I start to feel angry again. That’s what Phillip did—used us. Used me.
George shakes his head. “I heard Phillip say some things last year. I should’ve known. I should’ve said something at our meeting. It was just...one of those things, where I didn’t really think about it until after I overheard them on Saturday, you know? And then I felt so stupid for not realizing it all along.”
“You shouldn’t feel stupid. I know Phillip, too, and it never would’ve occurred to me, ever,” I say.
George looks up, cracks a small smile. He picks up my hand and squeezes it. “That’s because you’re such a good person, Emma, with such a kind heart.” I suddenly feel warm from his unexpected compliment, from his hand holding on to mine. “It would never even cross your mind to consider what Phillip and those guys might be doing. That’s why this is all on me.”
I squeeze his hand back. Maybe it doesn’t matter whose fault it is? “Our project is still very beta,” I tell him. “There’s mistakes, but we’re going to test and figure them out. We’ll fix it. Together, okay? We’re co-presidents, right?”
George doesn’t let go of my hand for another few seconds. And then once he does, he smiles at me, a real genuine smile, and he nods. For once, somehow, I’ve managed to say the right thing. And I walk into school feeling just a little bit lighter.
* * *
“I’ve designed a new survey,” Jane says after school at our emergency meeting. She opens up her laptop and sets it out on the table in front of all of us. “And after what happened with the cross-country team...well, I think I can fix things going forward.”
We’re all gathered in our normal Friday afternoon meeting space, except for Robert, who has marching band practice Mondays after school, and couldn’t make it.
I glance at Hannah as Jane is talking. Her hair is down today, and covering most of her face. She has her head down on the desk as she’s listening to Jane, and she either won’t or doesn’t want to look up to meet my eyes—all that’s visible is a sea of messy red curls. I look back toward Jane, and Ms. Taylor hovers over her screen, a worried look on her face, so I guess either Jane or George told her what happened at the dance.
“The survey is twofold.” Jane is still talking. “One, we get the user to enter his or her own likes and dislikes and sexual orientation to go into our database for matching. And two, it allows users to note any persons in the school who’ve exhibited past bad dating behavior. If a person gets more than one bad mark, we filter him or her out of the database for matching completely.”
No one says anything for a moment, and Jane’s words settle. Until