The Code for Love and Heartbreak - Jillian Cantor Page 0,56

gives me a wide smile. “This looks wonderful, Emma!” She surprises me by pulling me into a hug, holding on tightly, in a way that makes me think she’s wishing I were Izzy, or forgetting for a second that I’m not. I’ve talked with her lots of times, most notably last week, when she picked George up from my house, and that night of Izzy’s crazy party when she and George came to rescue me. But she has never once hugged me before.

“Do you need any help with the dinner?” I ask her, extracting myself from the hug.

She steps back and shakes her head. “I’ve got everything under control here. I’ve even got some veggies roasting in the oven for you, Emma. Why don’t you kids go hang out and I’ll call you when dinner is ready?”

Every holiday meal for as long as I can remember, Izzy and I were always in the kitchen, always in charge of preparing things. So it’s a weird feeling to be shooed away from the food. But this is not my kitchen, not my meal, and I don’t really want to hang around to have an awkward conversation with Mrs. Knightley, anyway. I appreciate that she remembered to include vegetables for me and I thank her.

“Come on,” George says. “I’ll show you what I’ve been working on with my animation today.”

I follow him upstairs. At the top of the steps is a huge loft area, complete with a Ping-Pong table and some arcade games. George grabs his laptop off the desk, flops down on a red bean bag and drags another one over for me. I sit, and wish I hadn’t listened to Dad and worn a dress. I pull it down, and tuck it around my knees.

“I animated a second heart,” he says. “It matches the first one. Look.” Two identical yellow hearts walk across the simulator on his screen, and meet in the middle to hold hands. “I think we should add this to the last screen, when the match pops up. And maybe on the first screen, they could hold up a sign that says The Code for Love.”

“It looks really good, George,” I say, and it does.

George puts his laptop down, and we kind of stare at each other. I think about what I wanted to ask him, about his dates with Hannah. And how as a mathematician, coder of this app, I should want to track the data, all the data. Even George and Hannah. Especially George and Hannah. But I don’t say anything for a minute.

“You look nice,” George says, speaking first.

“Oh... Okay.” I’m kind of flabbergasted, not sure what I’m supposed to say in response. I told Hannah that George doesn’t notice that sort of thing. I guess I was wrong? “Well, Dad thought this would be a more formal dinner than we’re used to. But apparently he was confused,” I explain.

George smiles. He nods toward the Ping-Pong table. “You know how to play?”

“Do I know how?” I laugh, incredulous. We have a table in our basement, and Izzy and I have a running tournament every single summer. It’s practically the only sport I’m good at. If you can consider Ping-Pong a sport, which, for the record, I do.

I push up the sleeves of my dress, stand and go grab one of the paddles.

“I’ll make you a friendly wager,” George says, picking up the other paddle, pushing up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “If I win, you’ll run your own match through our database.”

“What? No way,” I say.

“Afraid I’ll beat you?” His eyes are shimmering behind his glasses against the overhead lights, brimming with laughter.

I shake my head. There is no way George will beat me. I’ve beaten Izzy three summers running. “So what do I get when I win?” I say.

He thinks about it for a minute. Then he says, “I’ll do the oral presentation at regionals next week.”

It’s always the worst part of the tournament, having to make the oral presentation to the panel of judges, in ten minutes or less. In the past, the club presidents have always done it, and I’ve been dreading having to do it this year. George and I had planned to equally divide the talking and go in there together. “The whole thing? By yourself?” I say. He nods. “Okay, deal. I serve first.”

I hardly even give him a second to react before I toss the ball and do a hard slam serve onto his side, catching him a