by Molly E. Lee
He nodded rapidly, clicking to the next slide where five bullet points listed the most effective coding languages. “You probably like that because you’re a pen tester, yeah?”
I held my hand out and did the universal so-so shake. I loved breaching walls and locks and codes meant to keep me out, but I hadn’t chosen cyber security as my only flavor of hack. Not yet. Not when there were so many more avenues to take.
“Well,” he said, mimicking my so-so shake, “Python is a great language. So is C, or C++.” He pointed to the slide behind him. “Coding languages are not only important if you want to break into something or build something. They’re vital to understanding what you’re working on. If you can’t read the language, you’re not going to get far with the given task.” He smiled, an easy grin that was rarely seen on the staff here at Wilmont. “Which,” he continued, “is why we’ll be spending the next few weeks on languages…” Griffin launched into his lesson, and I lost myself in a project I’d meant to wrap up last night but had crashed before I could.
I already knew my preferred language. I already knew almost everything Griffin would cover this semester, but this was an advanced computer course—one of many offered, the only perk of sticking it out at Wilmont. I couldn’t not take it. Plus, the hour block gave me extra time to code on my own.
Fifty minutes and a blink later, I dragged myself out of the zone and bounded up to the front of the room before Griffin could excuse everyone.
“Winters?” he asked while he powered down his gear.
“I’ve been appointed head of”—I cringed as I tried not to puke over the words—“Code Club.”
Griffin’s eyes widened, and he choked on a laugh. “Principal Tanner sent me an informative text before you stumbled in here.” He gave me a pitying look before he gestured to the students dying to get out of their seats. “Feel free.”
“Okay,” I said, turning to face the room.
I focused on Amber, the few streaks of pink in her dark hair that fell just short of her eyes and tightened around her ears. She was beyond easy to look at and took some of the sweat out of my palms. “If anyone is looking to get in some extra coding time, or needs help with other programming stuff…” I lost my train of thought when Amber’s green eyes popped up to mine as if she just realized I’d been speaking. “Um.” I cleared my throat. Today had been too long already, and now I’d have to stay after school three hours longer for this damn club.
I needed to reboot.
I cleared my throat. “I’ll be here right after school. Today, Wednesday, and Friday.”
Amber tilted her head.
Another student, Holly, one of the sole six girls in the class, shot her hand into the air. “Is it an extra credit thing?”
I shook my head, my palms smacking against my thighs. “Nope. Just a…club.” I refused to call it Code Club. It was bad enough on its own. Anything truly worthwhile would be strictly underground; putting a spotlight on what we were doing kind of took the point out of hacking.
“It’s just for knowledge,” I continued. “Practice. That sort of thing.” Now that the words left my mouth, I could practically feel Tanner laughing his ass off in his office. He knew as well as I did that Griffin was lucky to have a full eighteen-student class. Coding was tricky, hard, and really only enjoyable to those who actually wanted to learn the skill. Doing it for an extra three hours a day without any other incentives? Forget about it.
“Thanks, Winters,” Griffin said, patting me on the back. “I encourage anyone who wants to up their game to spend the extra time given.” He joined me in staring at a bunch of blank faces. All except one. A pixie with pink in her hair who couldn’t help but smirk. “Okay then,” Griffin continued. “You’re free to go.” The room instantly transformed into a flurry of motion with his magic words—a scene I was usually happy to be a part of, except for when they were all running away from me and what I loved to do in my spare time. It was almost comical.
Almost.
I supposed if no one showed up, I could at least use the time to maintain the website like Tanner had demanded, and then prep for the TOC coming up in March. I’d just have to make sure I did a damn good job on the website so Tanner didn’t find a worse way to punish me for not being able to stop something I hadn’t seen coming.
Something worse than a Code Club.
Something like shining his shoes or catering one of his social dinners.
I was so fucked.
Chapter Three
Amber
“You’re good to ride home with Jake, right?” I asked Hannah while we dropped books off in our lockers.
She wore a cheesy grin as she closed her locker door. “Oh, you know I am.”
I laughed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m just excited for you,” she said. “A cool after-hours computer club? With Dean? Sounds pretty…romantic.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please stop. You’re killing me with all the gushy stuff.” I sighed. “Besides, the idea of Code Club is actually pretty sad. The true grit of what we do is underground, not…you know, in a school club approved by Tanner himself.”
And I suddenly wondered why the principal would approve something like this. Especially after the fiasco this morning. Add to it that Dean had been front row and center to the train wreck? Something didn’t add up.
Maybe the club would look good for whatever information he compiled over the year to keep his job? Did he think having a coding club would make him look more progressive? If that was the case, he should’ve asked me—a girl—to do it. Not that Dean wouldn’t nail it…but girls—to my utter disappointment—made a small percentage of coders across the nation. There were only five others in Griffin’s class. And I wanted to see those numbers soar. I’d tried and failed miserably to recruit Hannah into coding, but she didn’t have the patience or the interest.
Either way, it didn’t stop me from jumping at any chance to test my skills against Dean’s.
“Whatever, hacker. Act like you’re not bouncing up and down inside at the idea of clicking Dean’s keys late into the night.”
I scoffed, gently nudging her shoulder. “You’re impossible.”
She stepped closer to me, lowering her voice. “I think it would be good for you. To…” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Spend some time with a boy who isn’t Brandon.”
The memories of my last relationship twisted my stomach. “I hang with Jake all the time,” I said, my tone missing the joking beat I’d intended. I glanced behind her, motioning to Jake walking toward us.
“That is so not the same.” She spun around, instantly melting into his open arms.
Damn, these two were so sweet it was almost disgusting. If I didn’t love them both I would be totally, absolutely…jealous of them.
Jake brushed some of Hannah’s hair off her shoulder and then planted a quick kiss on her lips. The motions were so natural, so effortless. Hannah didn’t hesitate when Jake reached for her, she didn’t flinch when he outwardly showed affection. There was a hard-earned trust between them, gleaned from years of friendship and compassion. And they had a sixth sense when it came to sneaking the intimate moments during school—like they had a teacher radar that alerted them whenever one was close. Practice makes perfect ftw.
I didn’t need to spend time with any other guys to know that not every male was a dick like Brandon—who thought of women as a game. Something made for him to enjoy.
Not that he’d always been like that, or shown me that side of him right away. In the beginning, he was nice. Funny. Smart. Attentive. We’d been friends before we’d dated. We had fun. I’d never seen him treat another girl like he’d treated me in the end…and maybe that was the game he played. Prince Charming until he didn’t get his way.
A cold chill raced down my spine.
Not all boys were like him.
But, then again, what Hannah and Jake had was clearly true love. And not everyone was guaranteed their happily ever after.
“You riding with me or Amber today, babe?” Jake asked, one arm draped over her shoulder.
“You,” she said without glancing up at him. Her eyes were on mine, perceptive and too knowing. There was a flash of pity mixed with anger. She knew my thoughts had turned to Brandon and everything that had happened between us. “He’s a dick,” she said again, no need to explain who she was calling out. “You want me to stay? I can sit with you while you hack.”
The gesture was enough to warm the ice crystallizing over my heart.
“Who’s a dick?” Jake asked.
Hannah gave him a quick duh glare.
“Ohhh,” he said, nodding. His brow knitted in the middle. “Did something happen again? I’ll fuck him up. Just say the word.”
“No,” I said, mustering a genuine smile. “Thank you.” I shrugged. “I’m going to have fun giving Winters hell over this new club.”
Hannah clapped her hands together. “Yay! Okay,” she said, wrapping me in a fast hug. “Text me later with all the details. I’ll want to know everything.”
“It’ll be coding talk. That’s all that will happen.”
“Sure, sure.” She waggled her eyebrows and interlocked her fingers with Jake’s. “And we’re going to go study.”
“You two are disgusting.”
“Love you!” she called over her shoulder as they walked down the hallway toward the school’s exit.
“Love!” I hollered back, already turning toward the coding room.
My heart sped as I neared the entryway, the door wide open but the interior quiet. Such a contrast from the normal school day. Nearly everyone on campus was already in or headed toward the parking lot, ready to put this day behind them.
I turned the corner, pausing a few steps in, my breath catching.
Dean had picked a desk in the far corner of the room, his custom laptop out, his headphones on and over his ears. They made his shaggy hair ruffle even more, and his sharp eyes were locked on the screen.
I wetted my lips, stepping farther into the room.
He continued to click away, fast and sure and steady.
Locked in.
Not about to interrupt, I sank into a desk a few away from him, and set up my own gear. Before I opened a capture the flag pwn challenge, I scanned the empty room. It wasn’t a total shock that no one from coding class had shown up, but I assumed Mr. Griffin at least would be here.
They don’t know what they’re missing.
I slipped on my custom Loki emblem headphones, cranking my electronic list on Spotify, and set my fingers on the keys. The sweet repetitive beats pulsed and thrummed in my ears, each thump taking me further away from the room and deeper into the task.
An hour later, I’d captured the flag by exploiting the program to gain remote coding execution. I rolled my neck, sighing with the release of a completed challenge. The angle locked me onto a pair of blue-gray eyes and I jolted.
Hi. Dean mouthed the word despite sitting in a chair an arm’s length away.
I furrowed my brow. “Hi!” The second the loud word left my lips, I realized my playlist still blared in my head. I yanked off my headphones, laying them on the desk next to my laptop. “Sorry,” I said much quieter.
“How long have you been here?”
I glanced at my cell. “A little over an hour?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I leaned back in my chair, stretching out of my stiff position. “I’d never break your rhythm.”
He pursed his lips, nodding. “Nice.” He glanced back at his gear. “I didn’t expect anyone to show up. After fixing some things on the school site, I launched right into a password cracking algorithm I’ve been working on.”
“Tanner has you maintaining the site?” I chuckled. “That sounds thrilling.”
“Riveting stuff,” he said.
“I just owned in capture the flag. A pwn challenge. I had to locally exploit the server and then use it against itself. Found the flag after switching up the language.”
Dean whistled, sitting in the chair right next to mine. He placed his elbows on his knees, putting him eye level with me. “Clever.”
I shrugged. “It happens sometimes.”
“Which site? CTFtime?”
“Pwnable. You know it?”
“I haven’t done one in a few months, but yeah. They’ve got some good challenges.”
The earbuds buzzed on my desk as my playlist switched to a new song, and I shifted to end it on my cell.
“Is that deadmau5?”
“Yeah,” I said, watching him. “You know him?”
“Hell yes,” he said. “‘Animal Rights’ is on almost every one of my lists.”
“Are you messing with me?” I asked, suddenly wary he’d snuck into my system and snagged all my info. That wasn’t his style, but still. How was it possible we loved the same DJ and he’d just named my favorite song?
“If I was going to mess with you,” he said, smirking like he could read my mind, “it would be infinitely more involved than stealing a playlist.”
A warm shiver danced down my spine as he licked his lips, that damn smirk both inviting and a warning sign.
“True,” I said, hating the crack in my voice. It was hard to focus with him so close, his eyes on mine. He smelled like Red Bull and cedar and I was hard pressed to remember what exactly we were talking about. “You do WebWars?” I asked, noticing a patch on his messenger bag.
“I did last year,” he said, rubbing his palms together where they hung between his knees. “And I’ve just earned my ticket to the Tournament of Champions this year.”
My eyebrows rose. Damn, he was even better than I thought. The TOC, or Tournament of Champions, was a prestigious cyber intelligence competition held every year. The winner not only received major bragging rights, but a trophy, a ticket to next year’s tourney, and an all-expenses-paid boot camp of their choice. Add to that all the connections to VIPs employed by top corporations, it was the competition to enter.
“Damn it,” I said, crossing one leg over the other. “That settles it then. You are a better hacker than me.” My shoulders sank a little at the thought. There was something about being better than the infamous Dean Winters that totally would’ve boosted my confidence.
“What?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “That is impossible to tell.”
I scoffed. “I tried and failed to get into the TOC.” Though, in all fairness, I hadn’t configured my equipment to the optimum performance standards that I knew about now, and a few seconds had cost me a ticket, but still. He was going. I wasn’t. And the competition was beyond insane—all ages could compete, meaning there were veteran hackers who had started movements all the way to pre-teens wanting to be the next Google intern.
“Which day did you compete on?” he asked.
“Two. You?”
“Three.”
“Well,” I said, sucking in a sharp breath. “I’ll come watch you. If you want support.”
“I’d love to have you there,” he said, and it actually sounded like he meant it. “But…”
Oh shoot me now.
“It’s in Boston this year, second week of March. Wouldn’t want to rob you of pre-spring-break-parties.”
Sure, Boston was over two hours away, but it would be worth the haul to watch him win.
“Parties? Have you spotted me at many this summer?” Ice splintered in my stomach—I hadn’t been to a party since Brandon. Since…
“No,” he admitted. “Not
that I’ve been hitting many, either, though.” He glanced back at his gear. “I lose time.”
“Me, too.” I nodded. “Brandon always gave me shit about wanting to spend time with my computer over doing keg stands or Jell-O shots.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them and I shifted in my seat.
Damn Hannah for making me think about my ex too many times today. Not that I could totally blame her. I constantly saw the guy in the halls. Usually that’s when I sprinted in the opposite direction with acid building in my throat threatening to spew Exorcist style. I totally needed to get a handle on that reaction, but I was lost on how to do so.
“Brandon is a dick.” A muscle ticked in his jaw as he leaned back in his seat.
I pressed my lips together, trying to contain my shock. They weren’t friends, but most of the school adored Brandon. The star football player who won Wilmont championships, maintained a 4.0 GPA, and threw all-expenses-paid ragers.
Not many people knew what he turned into when he drank said Jell-O shots.
My skin prickled and I folded my arms over my chest.
“Sorry,” Dean said. “I know he’s your boyfriend—”
“He so isn’t my boyfriend,” I cut him off.
“What?” Dean cleared his throat. “I mean…when did that happen?” He leaned on his knees again, the warmth from his shift in movement soothing the cold in my veins.
“A couple months ago.”
“I didn’t know.”
I chuckled again. “I didn’t post it on a blog or anything.”
He laughed, too, and damn if it didn’t unwind my clenched muscles. “Noted.”
I waved my hand like I could shoo the subject away. “So…Code Club.” I said the words with a shit-eating grin.
“I know.” Dean cringed, rubbing his palms over his face.
“I mean, you could’ve at least come up with a better name.”
“Wouldn’t have helped, would it?” He smirked.
“Nope.”
“Tanner made me do this.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Because of the presentation?”
