The Code for Love and Heartbreak - Jillian Cantor Page 0,72
Valentine’s Day formal. So what if we offer to match couples for the dance with a five-dollar donation to the Environmental Defense Fund? That gives us a way to both gather more specific data before states and take the app to the next level for our presentation for the judges. We can talk about how we’re actually doing good with it, too.”
Matching people already is doing good, isn’t it? But George sounds so eager I keep my mouth shut and nod. Besides, only a few people have come up to me at lunch this week, asking for a download. Maybe if we are offering something specific—a date to the dance—it’ll give us a whole new surge of interest. And our school does have a policy that students can only bring other registered students to the dance as dates, so what better way to do that than to use our app?
And George is right—we need more data. As far as we can tell, so far we have only forty-eight couples dating as a result of our app (and three others who were, but then broke up over the break). There are four hundred people in our high school, so we have room to make more matches between now and the middle of February.
* * *
After the meeting ends, Jane offers to drive Sam home and the two of them walk out together—Sam laughing at something Jane says. Ben is waiting to give Robert and Hannah (who lives right near him) a ride.
I let Izzy take the car again, her last day at home, as she said she had some shopping to do before she flew back to LA, and George and I walk out to the parking lot to look for her. We don’t see her, so we sit down on the curb and I text her.
Be there in 5, she texts back.
It’s chilly outside, and I shiver and zip my parka up higher. “You want my hat?” George offers, pulling it from the pocket of his parka.
“Nah, I’m okay. Iz says she’ll be here in five minutes.”
“Are you sad for them to go back?” George asks. “I mean, obviously you’ll be happy to have your car back. But other than that?”
I shrug, remembering how George sounded bitter the first morning they were home, calling John the prodigal son. “Are you?”
“No...yes...maybe a little?” He shrugs, too. “High school will be over for us soon and next year we’ll both be off...somewhere.” I let his words settle a little. George is sitting right next to me on the curb, so close; the puffy shoulders of our parkas are touching. I’ve seen and talked to him almost every day this year. It’s hard to imagine that next year we’ll be living completely different lives, far apart. Even the thought of that makes me feel sad now. “Sometimes it just feels like everything is changing so fast, you know?” George says. I nod. I do know. “But these past few weeks with John back home, everything sort of felt the way it always was, the way it always used to be. And that was kind of nice, too.”
“George?” I say softly. “We’ll still be friends next year, right?”
“Emma.” He puts his hand on my arm, and even through my parka I can feel the warmth of his fingers. “I want...”
“What?” I think about that ridiculous thing Izzy said, which she based on the way he looked at me. He’s looking at me in a strange way now, frowning a little. “What do you want?” I say softly.
Before he can answer, the sound of a car honking makes us both jump up. Izzy has pulled up while we were talking and we haven’t noticed her.
“I’m freezing,” George says, changing the subject. “Let’s get in the car.”
John is in the passenger seat, so George and I both slide in the back. I stare at him, wondering what he was about to say, what he wants. I want to ask him again. But then John turns around to talk to us. “How was nerd club, kids?”
“John.” Izzy elbows him, before driving out of the parking lot. “Be nice.”
“What?” John says, leaning over to kiss Izzy’s shoulder affectionately. “I am nice. George is proud of his nerd status, aren’t you, George?”
George shrugs and shoots me a little grin, as if to say he’d way rather be us than be John, who, according to Izzy, struggled with his classes last semester. Then George actually answers John’s question and tells