“I don’t give a rat’s ass if it’s golf or pissing in a tin can; you don’t have to be the best, you just have to act like you are,” he’d spat at his son.
“I’m sorry I’m not,” Gavin had said.
“Not what?”
“The best.”
“You and me both, kid.”
Lucy had comforted Gavin, and they’d shared a bottle of red from deep in his dad’s cellar. Things spiraled that night. The drinks, the people, the party, her life.
She lied. She never told her mom she missed the Stanford interview entirely, sleeping off all she’d imbibed the night before with half a dozen classmates on the floor of Gavin’s basement. His basement. Not even his room. She’d opened his bedroom door before leaving and slammed it shut so quickly she didn’t even know who it was in his bed. All she knew was that it wasn’t her. And she’d given up Stanford. Stanford. For this? For who? And how? How? How? How?
“Listen, Luce,” Gavin said, sauntering deeper into the room. “I missed this morning’s lecture. And I know how diligent you are about taking notes.”
“And you thought I’d let you borrow them?”
“Why not? I’d do the same for you.”
Lucy snorted. “Only if you had something to gain.”
“Backs and scratching, you know that, Luce.” He leaned in so close, she could feel his hot breath on her cheek. “And believe me, I do, from firsthand experience. Those pretty little nails digging in every time I—”
“Um, excuse me?” Delia hovered in the doorway. “Lucy, do you want me to wait in the common room? I owe my parents a call anyway.”
“No, absolutely not.” She backed away from Gavin and told him, “Sorry, I forgot my notebook this morning, so in fact, I didn’t take any notes.”
Delia looked like she was about to offer up her own, and Lucy said, “Neither did Delia. None of us did.”
“Considering what I heard, you might think about starting.”
“Heard? What? From who?” Lucy said. People were talking? About them?
Gavin ran his fingers along his mouth, zipping it shut.
Fine, whatever. Underestimate us. We’ll show you. The Stanford portal was still up on her phone. She clicked it shut. We better.
Maddie came up behind Delia. She leaned against the doorjamb, and her brow creased. “Why is there crap on our rug?”
The turquoise-and-white diamond shag rug Lucy had ordered after the first time her bare feet hit the linoleum.
Gavin pursed his lips. “It’s not crap, it’s dirt. They ran the sprinklers too early on the golf course.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Maddie slid off her sneakers and added them to the pink canvas basket Lucy had also ordered and set by the door for their shoes.
Lucy’s jaw clenched both at the clumps now on her rug and at Gavin. “Some nerve, Gavin. Coming to me for notes because you were golfing.”
His shoulders rounded, not much, but enough for Lucy to tell. “I thought you’d understand. My dad called at the last minute. Needed a fourth.”
Maddie snorted, but Lucy stayed silent, searching Gavin’s eyes for a truth she was surprised to see was actually there.
She said in a soft voice, “You tell him about the hackathon win?”
Gavin nodded. “Got a whole chin lift out of him. But if I ‘stay the course’ . . .” Gavin used air quotes. “Well, then he might put Demo Day on his calendar.”
Lucy bit down on her lower lip, chewing, until she realized she was doing it and stopped. “Fine. I’ll take a photo of my notes and send it, okay?”
Maddie tossed her tablet and stylus on her bunk with a huff.
“Thanks, Luce.” Gavin winked at her.
Maddie stared at him. “What’s your team’s app, anyway?”
“It tracks the development of new apps.”
“How meta of you.”
“Can’t hurt to have a little self-awareness in our lives, now can it?” On his way out the door, he nodded to Delia’s half-curly head. “Way to rock the asymmetry.”
“Goodbye, Gavin,” Lucy said in a voice more high-pitched than she liked. We will show everyone. “Now, Delia, sit, before this thing overloads the fuse box.”
Delia grabbed her laptop and reclaimed her seat. “I’ve just got to figure out what’s breaking this line of code.”
“No,” Lucy said, reaching around Delia to shut her computer. She refused to let Gavin under her skin—under any of their skins. “We worked all week. Tonight’s for fun.” And letting everyone see how unified they were because, turns out, Lucy’s mom was right about the importance of presentation.
Lucy looked up at Maddie, who was sitting on the end of her top bunk, her long legs dangling well into Delia’s bed underneath. “I’ll do you next, Maddie.”
Without lifting her eyes from her phone, Maddie replied, “Got straight covered, thanks.”
“I have a curling wand. Three, actually. Teen Vogue asked me to do a review. And you can borrow one of my tees. It’ll be like a crop top on you, and it’s always good to show a little skin and—”
“I’m good,” Maddie said.
Strategize, stylize, socialize.
Tonight needed all three. Lucy yanked the straightener through Delia’s hair.
But then Delia asked, “You’re coming though, right?”
Maddie stared at them, twirling her stylus in her hand. “He really rented out the whole place?”
“I heard he tried,” Lucy said. “But the club donated it. Way better deal for them with all the attention they’ll get from Ryan walking through the door.”
“Unbelievable,” Maddie said.
“Pulse is the only way to live,” Lucy said with a wink.
“Is it though?”
“Come on, Maddie, it’ll be fun,” Delia said. “I’ve never been.”
“To San Francisco?” Maddie asked.
“To a club?” Lucy said.
“To anywhere.” Delia’s eyes flickered to her makeshift nightstand, the metal suitcase plastered with tourist stickers.
Maddie swung her legs back onto her bed. “Just let me finish texting my brother.”
“Way to go, Delia,” Lucy whispered in her ear.
“I wasn’t trying to manipulate her or anything. It’s just the truth.”
“Huh, really? Well, how about that.”
* * *
* * *
There was a cooler on the bus. Cans of cane sugar soda and organic coconut water, courtesy of ValleyStart. What surely wasn’t provided by the program were the koozie-covered PBRs and metal bottles full of premixed mojitos, margaritas, and rum and cola. Lucy wasn’t sure who’d snuck the alcohol on, but the drinks surreptitiously made the rounds. She and Maddie each had some, but Delia barely even tasted the sippy box of sangria before passing it off to Lucy.
She held it in one hand as the soft, warm sounds of an acoustic guitar filled the bus. Emma’s rich alto overlaid the notes, drowning out the excited chatter.
“Wow,” Delia whispered. “If she’s half as good a designer, we’re all in trouble.”
The song was the same one Emma had been practicing earlier. But this time, her voice played with the inflection, the ballad more sultry than before, as if Emma was finally honing in on her strength, letting the music accompany her instead of the other way around. Exactly what Lucy needed to do with ValleyStart. As the rest of the bus became entranced by Emma, Lucy sank deeper into the seat, mentally rehashing the past few days while sipping the sangria.
So by the time they walked through the door of the same club Lucy had been at little more than a week ago, she was well on her way to floating to the rafters above. Half the busload had partaken of the refreshments, but Lucy was the only one aiming for the dance floor instead of the buffet of free food. Even Delia and Maddie were heading
toward the taco station, forcing Lucy to reluctantly trudge along behind them.
She leaned against the wall, surveying her competitors.
Unfazed. That’s how she wanted to be seen.
Which is why when Gavin passed by, she grabbed his shirt and tugged him all the way to the dance floor. Gray jeans, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, he was dressed not like a Valley wannabe but the way he had in high school. Part of what had attracted her to him then. And that she hated still did now.
It only took a second for Gavin to kick into gear. His hands cradled her waist, and he flung her low into a dip. She giggled—purposely, loudly—as she righted herself. He held her close, using their bodies to shield a can of PBR in a red koozie.
Lucy tucked herself into Gavin and accepted the can. She took a swig, gave it back, and he polished it off, circling their fused bodies to the side of the dance floor where he stashed the empty. Gavin had showered since he’d been in her room, and he smelled like the redwoods like he always did. . . . Why does he have to smell so good and why does his hair feel so soft against my skin and why, why is he such a good dancer?
His arms were strong and her feet were quick and they were both so damn cocky that they didn’t care if they were the only ones dancing. The song ended and another began and they dug in deeper. Their rhythm was smooth and effortless, and anyone watching should have been able to see this was not the first time they’d moved in sync. Lucy’s eyes shot open. She jerked back, searching for Ryan.
He was at the end of the buffet, talking to Eric’s group. His head shifted and his eyes met hers. She slowly backed away from Gavin. He cocked his head, and she tilted her own toward Delia.
“Girl bonding.” Lucy wasn’t sure why she said it—like she cared if Gavin thought she was dissing him.
He shrugged and pulled an airplane bottle from his back pocket.
Lucy and Gavin’s dancing had enticed a few more to join. The night was sponsored by Pulse, and Ryan had made it a mixer of sorts, including some of the newer Pulse hires. Thankfully. Because the Dave ratio was strong at ValleyStart. A few more girls in addition to guys in those tees only given to Pulse employees began circulating through the crowd.
All of ValleyStart—and a few of the Pulse hires—were underage, which meant the bar was locked down for the night. But it was still a club. And so the lights dimmed further and the music pumped louder.
Lucy found Delia and Maddie. “Come on, I love this song!”
She knew the only way she’d get Delia out there was if Maddie came, so she locked eyes and silently pleaded with her.
Maddie’s eyes were unreadable, and then, finally, they softened. “One song,” she said, moving past Lucy and to the center of the growing crowd.
Lucy mouthed a thank-you before clasping a hand around Delia’s wrist and dragging her to the floor. Maddie was a decent dancer, her height and confidence making up for her lack of innate skill. Delia wobbled beside them, as unsure on her legs as a newborn fawn.
“Just let it go!” Lucy cried over the music, but Delia only shifted from one foot to the other, and so Lucy wrapped her arm around her waist and led her in an exaggerated tango.
Delia’s hands were clammy and her face glowed pink, but by the third time Lucy spun to lead her in the opposite direction, Delia was giggling. They zoomed past and through Maddie, trying to get her to join them, but Maddie simply snuck away after the song ended.
“Your loss,” Delia shouted, surprising Lucy by grabbing her and leading what was probably the worst tango in history. But Delia was finally showing confidence, leading, and Lucy, knowing everyone was watching, let her.
Until a super cute guy in a Pulse tee cut in. Another planted himself in front of Delia, and Lucy gave her a thumbs-up.
Lucy then followed her own advice and let everything go—Gavin and no news on Stanford and her mom’s voice in her head and her constant worries that they weren’t bringing Lit to the next level. She commanded the floor, moving from Pulse employee to Pulse employee and eventually landing in the arms of one of Eric’s teammates.
“Marty, right?” Lucy said.
“Marty Martinez,” he said. “And, yes, it was on purpose, and, no, my parents aren’t crazy, they write sitcoms, and, yes, I’ve considered changing my name.”
Marty spun Lucy, but the dizziness didn’t stop when her body did. After a quick peck on Marty’s cheek, she pushed through the sweaty pack and to the buffet, where she downed two mason jars of hibiscus water. The only tacos left were labeled beef tongue and Cowgirl Creamery goat cheese, and she ate one, cold, as her eyes searched for Maddie and Delia. Head still swimming, she started down the hall to the restrooms, remembering the door that led to the private patio area on the roof of the club.
She climbed the stairs, flung the door open, and breathed in the crisp night air, for once grateful for the microclimate surrounding the city. Lights from buildings in the Financial District glimmered in the distance, none more than the top floors of Salesforce Tower, which had edged out the Transamerica Pyramid to become the tallest building in San Francisco when it opened. Each night, fleeting images moved across the aluminum panels that formed the crown at the top—a public art installation visible from twenty miles in every direction. Lucy watched as a lone cyclist, a black shadow against the white lights, pedaled around the side of the building and out of view. When she stepped forward and turned to try to get a glimpse of the lights on the Bay Bridge, she realized she wasn’t alone.
Ryan was here. With Emma. Eric and Marty’s teammate. Ryan and Emma were so deep in conversation, his hand on her forearm, that they didn’t even notice her. She considered quietly leaving, but if Ryan was dispensing advice, Lucy wanted in.
“Hey,” she said.
Ryan’s head jerked back, and Emma averted her eyes.
Is this more than a tip or two? Is Ryan actually helping Emma’s team?
That if Lucy’s Pulse were higher, maybe he’d be helping her raced through her mind. Damn you, Gavin Cox.
Ryan handed something to Emma and she nodded. He then sauntered over to Lucy. “Someone’s been having fun.”
Pissing in a tin can, right? Just because Lucy wasn’t a 10 didn’t mean she couldn’t act like it. “How could I not? Especially when it’s this very club that inspired Lit.”
“Really? So you’ve been before?”
“A couple of times.”
“Isn’t it a shame we didn’t run into each other?”
“Tragic, really,” Lucy said.
He laughed and placed a hand on her shoulder, just past the skinny strap of her tank top. “Keep enjoying yourself, Lucy.”
His fingers pressed into her bare skin, giving a gentle squeeze. It wasn’t until he’d reentered the club that Lucy realized she’d basically admitted to using a fake ID and he hadn’t even blinked.
He’s so cool.
Emma barely looked at Lucy as she moved past her.
“Care to share?” Lucy said.
“Share what?”
“The intel on ValleyStart. Us girls gotta stick together, right?”
“Oh, we weren’t talking about the program.”
Lucy eyed her skeptically.
“We weren’t. Ryan’s into music and so am I and—”
“Got it. Keep it to yourself. I can get my own intel.”
And with a determination to do just that, Lucy marched into the club. She wormed her way back onto the dance floor, gathered as many Pulse employees around her as she could, and took a selfie, immediately posting it online.
As a baseline to test the photo’s traction, she double-checked her Pulse. Still a 4. Thud, thud, thud, thud.
Below, in her recents, was Emma. Lucy clicked on Emma’s Pulse profile and almost dropped her phone.
And for the first time since she sent in her application, Lucy knew Stanford
was hers for the taking.
ELEVEN
BUY-IN • Gaining support for an idea or project, often from management or the full team
THE THREE-HOUR TIME DIFFERENCE between them didn’t stop Maddie from checking if Danny had texted back. She shifted on the hard barstool where she’d been since leaving Lucy and Delia on the dance floor and logged in to her email. While she wasn’t taking on new clients during the program, she still had to field requests and answer questions from existing ones.
“This seat taken?” Nishi Kapoor asked.
Maddie looked up. “Feel free.”
“Me and my blisters thank you. Aren’t new shoes the worst? Damn cute though. That’s how they get you. Like babies.”
Though Maddie’s closet full of slip-on sneakers made her unable to relate, she nodded.
“Go ahead.” Nishi gestured to Maddie’s phone. “Don’t let me stop you from checking your Pulse.”
“Please. I don’t even have an account.”
“How refreshing. You have single-handedly restored my faith in the next generation, Maddie.”
“Don’t get too excited. I’m an anomaly.”
“Change always starts with one. One idea, one person, one chance, one risk. Without anomalies, life would forever be status quo. How boring would that be?” She smiled, and Maddie put her phone away. “Now, tell me why you’re here and not out there.” Nishi glanced at Maddie’s feet. “It’s not because of improper footwear.”
Maddie shrugged. “Not really my scene.”
“What is your scene?”
“I don’t have one, but if I did, it wouldn’t be this.”
“I’m familiar with the culture shock. Took me three months to realize ‘ramps’ was just a fancy word for onions. Though you do get used to the sunshine.”
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