“Showing Pulse as the scam it is wouldn’t hurt,” Lucy said. “Think of it—if you could hack into Pulse’s code . . . only a unicorn could do that.”
“Pink and blue and swirly,” Maddie said. “Or whatever color you want it to be.”
“We want it to be.” Delia inhaled a deep breath.
Breaths raise you from the depths.
And then she stood. If she could hack into the Pulse database and find the secret table, then they’d have real evidence. Usernames and ratings compiled outside the normal system? It’d launch a formal investigation. Into Ryan and Pulse. Would she make enemies?
Maybe. But she cared more about her friends.
“I’ll try,” Delia said. “That’s all I can promise. I’ll start at the Pulse field trip tomorrow . . .” She stopped herself. “But wait . . . can we go? We can’t use Lit anymore. We don’t have an app. Can we even stay here? If we’re not presenting at Demo Day?” Delia’s shoulders slumped. “Which my parents are coming to. They booked tickets already, and all they’ll see is me sitting in the audience beside them.”
“Mine aren’t coming,” Maddie said matter-of-factly. But her eyes lowered when she added, “At least Danny won’t be here to see me sitting in the audience beside you.”
Delia glanced at Lucy. “And yours . . .”
“I’m not sure what my mom is planning to do. How sad is that? I never invited her. That’s sadder, right?”
No one responded, not because the answer was clear, but because the answer was complicated. Like everything for all of them right now.
Lucy sighed as she sat on Delia’s bed, shifting the computer to make room. “Hey, what is this, Dee?”
“Nothing, it’s silly, don’t even—”
“I didn’t know you were into playing video games.”
“It’s not a video game. Not exactly. It’s just something I work on sometimes.”
Lucy set the computer on her lap. “You created this? Hedy Lamarr? The actress who had something to do with creating Wi-Fi, right?”
“Ultimately, yes,” Delia said, feeling increasingly self-conscious as Maddie perched herself beside Lucy. “The graphics aren’t great. It’s more what elements of the coding it’s teaching.”
“This teaches coding?” Maddie said. “Is this the kind of stuff you did to learn on your own? So cool.”
Delia’s cheeks burned, and she moved to take the computer. “We should really get back to Demo Day.”
Lucy scooted deeper into the bunk. “We are.”
“No, we’re talking about my silly game.”
“One and the same. Because this . . .” Lucy tapped the screen. “This is how we stay in it. We pivot, just like Nishi did when she had to plan her boss’s wedding.”
“What?” Maddie said.
“Never mind. Point is, we need an app for Demo Day. We have one. Right here.”
“But the games aren’t fancy or anything. And they’re based on female coders and mathematicians. Hedy Lamarr and Grace Hopper and Dorothy Vaughan and Joan Clarke. Women who did amazing, smart things that most people know nothing about. People won’t care.”
“You do,” Lucy said.
“But I’m into this stuff. Because I’ve got some robot brain or something.”
“Robot?” Lucy tapped the screen. “Uh, no, I don’t think so. This whole thing is super creative.”
Delia could only think of her mom onstage. “No, it’s not. It’s just code.”
“Made fresh and fun. That’ll appeal to kids. We both know how rare that is, Delia.” As Lucy paused to gather her thoughts, she looked up at the bottom of the bunk. She read the Ada quotation as she removed it. “‘Imagination is the Discovering Faculty, preeminently. It is that which penetrates into the unseen worlds around us, the worlds of Science.’ If this is your goal, this is how we achieve it. Together. Because including women? Historical women? Who are total badass screen queens? I could pitch the hell out of this.” Lucy ratcheted her enthusiasm down a couple of notches, turning more serious. “Which isn’t why I’m saying this. It’s just a great idea.”
“Teaching kids how to code,” Maddie said. “That’s perfect. And kicks that tap-dancing porcupine’s ass.”
Delia sat at the desk, a mix of fear and excitement bubbling inside her. “You really think we could do this? In a week?”
“The games are already there,” Lucy said. “And, really, we only need one to be fully functional for Demo Day. Which means you can mostly focus on Pulse.”
“Maybe . . . but . . .” Delia faced Maddie. “It’ll mean a lot of work on your end to make it look remotely professional.”
“Excellent. I’ve been bored out of my gourd.”
“And you’ll have to redo the presentation,” Delia said to Lucy. “Without a beta test.”
“Heard it right from the ass’s mouth: all I need to do is own the room.” She smiled her most confident smile. “Got it covered.”
Delia thought of how much she’d have loved games like these as a kid—after all, that’s who she’d always been designing this for: her younger self. “You really want to do this? Because if you do, I’d like us to try. And not just so we don’t have to leave the program.”
“Because this is important,” Maddie said. “Like Eric’s app.”
“It could be. I wish I’d said something sooner.”
Lucy waved her off. “I probably wouldn’t have listened. But I’m listening now. And, actually, there’s so much potential—”
“Lucy,” Maddie warned.
“No, I’m serious, because this would be perfect for an underserved market.” She got out of the bunk and spun around, like she was already on the Demo Day stage. “Girls.”
“I like that,” Delia said.
“Sadie would love that,” Maddie said, a spark in her eye that had never been there when they talked about Lit.
Lucy’s excitement matched hers. She swung the printed quotation in her hand and then faced the door, still covered in old Lit logos. She tore them all down and pressed Ada’s words dead center. “And that’s just the beginning, ladies.”
Maddie sat on the corner of the desk, Delia stayed in the chair, and Lucy paced the room, her ideas flying even faster than they did when she’d proposed Lit. And this time, she paused to hear everyone’s suggestions.
Maddie: Offering bite-sized daily games and larger ones to attract all types of users from the casual to the more dedicated.
Delia: Committing to free intro-level games, the rest at a low price with discounts for coding groups, schools, libraries, to encourage girls to work as teams.
Lucy: Including free and paid tutorials run by women in tech, from high school students to C levels like Nishi and her mom.
Maddie: And not just women in tech; talks about working hard by successful women like Esmé Theot.
“Right,” Lucy said. “Like we can just call up Esmé Theot and ask.”
“You can’t.” Maddie swiped at her phone and held the contact up for them both to see. “But I can.” Lucy’s jaw fell open, and Maddie said, “Why, I think I just impressed Lucy Katz.”
She had. And as the afternoon turned to evening turned to early morning, and they’d all impressed one another more times than they could count, Delia took a deep breath to steel herself and texted Eric.
Delia: I’m sorry about last night. I was scared.
Delia: I still am.
Eric: Glad I’m not the only one.
Eric: Got plans for breakfast?
A quickening of her pulse preceded Delia’s grin, and Lucy said, “Excellent! I like it too.”
“Wait, what?” Delia had missed whatever Lucy had said.
“So you don’t like it?”
“Like what?” She tried to hide her phone and then just admitted it. “Sorry, I was texting Eric.”<
br />
Lucy sighed. “Total code crushing.”
“I—” Delia just shrugged. She was. They were. And she couldn’t have been happier.
“It’s cool. I’m just mega jealous.” Lucy winked, then held out both hands. “So, here it is, our app name: Girl Empowered. What do you think?”
“Don’t answer yet,” Maddie said. She flipped to a new page in her sketchbook, wrote the words at the top, and Delia watched, amazed, as an image formed underneath. A computer monitor at the bottom with three lines coiling up.
“Power cables,” Maddie said, but didn’t need to.
Attached to each cable, the outline of a girl morphed into shape, then lines connected them back to the computer in a continuous loop. On the screen, at the bottom, she filled in something, barely readable unless you knew what you were looking for: 303. Their room number.
Delia took in the rainbow of colors on Lucy’s bunk bed turned closet, the crumpled pile of clothes and papers spilling over the end of Maddie’s bed, the San Francisco sticker peeking out from under the pillow of Lucy’s that was now hers, and then, the scuffed knees on all three of them. They were pretty badass screen queens too.
“It’s perfect,” Delia said. “Now let’s go break a keyboard.”
TWENTY–EIGHT
DATA SMOG • An overwhelming quantity of information, often as a result of an Internet search, that serves to confuse the user instead of helping one understand
THE VIBE WAS DIFFERENT. And not just for Lucy.
The first field trip, everyone was high on the newness of ValleyStart, the energy of what was to come, the buzz of a private night at the city’s hottest club—not to mention the cooler of alcohol.
This time, as the bus veered down the hills of San Francisco toward Pulse’s headquarters, the only thing high was the stakes. Demo Day had everyone heads down in laptops, bleary-eyed, exhausted from days and nights of prep that no amount of caffeine could combat.
Lucy kept her eyes glued to her PowerPoint slides most of the ride. But when the bus hit the Embarcadero, she looked up. She waited for it to come into view. The circular drive where valets helped her in and out of the Tesla, the walls of glass enclosing the indoor space, the patio at the back, barely visible from the street but vivid in Lucy’s mind. It was where her teammates were insulted, where her ambition was used against her, where she was treated like a commodity that could be bought with champagne and views and charm that proved to be as fake as Pulse.
He thought it would work. The Lucy he saw made him think it would work. Was the fault in his interpretation or in Lucy’s reality? The question had been gnawing at her ever since that night. She still didn’t know the answer. She wasn’t sure how to find out—or if she really wanted to.
“Lucy?” Delia said. “Everything okay?”
Maddie turned to see what the bus had passed. “Is that where . . . ?”
Lucy nodded. “I just realized I haven’t seen him since.”
“You don’t have to,” Maddie said. “We can get a rideshare and go back.”
Lucy breathed in, feeling incredibly lucky to have been assigned to room 303. “No. What we’re doing is more important. Besides, I have to see him eventually. Better that I’m not alone.” She felt the tears welling up, and she let them. “And even better that I’m with you guys.”
Delia draped her arm around Lucy’s shoulders and squeezed.
Lucy gave her a thankful smile but said, “Back to work. We may be on each other’s side, but time isn’t.”
Hesitantly, Maddie and Delia returned to the app, and Lucy placed her hands on her keyboard. Her fingers spread out across the letters, her bare fingernails stark against the black keys. Last night she’d tossed every bottle of nail polish in the trash. Trophy Wife and Gold Digger and Ditzy Blonde and all the ones with names no self-respecting woman—no Girl Empowered—should let define her.
Today she was simply Lucy.
* * *
* * *
It was the lending library that surprised her the most. The ping-pong tables, yoga studio, fancy tea makers, espresso machines, on-site bicycle repair—even the free beer garden on the roof. Status quo for an elite tech company like Pulse. But the library . . . floor-to-ceiling mahogany shelves lined the perimeter of the room, wooden ladders hung on rails across the top of each, the collection ranged from children’s books to mysteries to cookbooks to nonfiction everything, and, of course, an entire wall dedicated to technology: hardware, software, manuals, biographies, how-tos, and more.
And then she remembered that Ryan’s mother was a librarian.
The contradiction filled her not with confusion but disappointment. Because he had it in him to be a better person than he was.
Then again, who didn’t? Some people’s gaps were just much wider than others.
Which became clear when they entered Ryan’s “Be VIP or Be RIP” room. An entire room of Ryan. Photos with every A-list female actor, model, and pop star, and in each and every one, a hand hidden from view, sometimes in seemingly innocuous places, most times not. Not enough to notice, unless you were looking for it, unless you were trying to discern a pattern. A pattern that continued with the photos of Ryan with tech movers and shakers. All men. Not a single female founder, CEO, CIO, CTO, VP, VC, or otherwise in the frames.
As they lined up to exit the room, Maddie and Delia huddled together, whispering, but Lucy hung back, taking a final look at the only photo of Ryan by himself, circa age five, a grin as wide as his current ego, filled with pride as he leaned over a homespun-looking computer.
Sadness for him, for her, for everyone in the photos hanging on the walls and for everyone behind the desks contained within this building with its nap pods and wellness center and executive chef. Sadness for what Pulse could have been, for what Ryan Thompson could have done, and for what he chose to do instead.
When she finally exited the room, he was there. Shaking every ValleyStart student’s hand, personally welcoming them to his home away from home. She couldn’t avoid him.
She waited until the end, watching his fake smiles, head bobs, and words of encouragement. Gavin was up next. He donned a conspiratorial grin, broadened his chest, and put his hand up for a high five. But it stayed there. Because Ryan barely glanced at him before moving on to the next student in line. Gavin shrank before her.
As he continued past Ryan, Gavin turned and caught Lucy’s eye. They held each other’s gaze. She wasn’t sure what he saw in her, but she saw everything Gavin was—arrogant enough to do what Ryan asked and naïve enough to think it meant something more. Because he wanted—needed—it to mean more.
Lucy was the last in line. She pushed herself forward and stood before Ryan.
His face exuded warmth, but the tilt of his head and the slow travel of his eyes scanning every inch of her iced Lucy to the bone. She refused to let him know.
“Miss Katz? I’m surprised to see you here,” he said. “I heard you were having some trouble with Lit.”
“We were,” Lucy said breezily despite the clawing beneath her skin. “Which is why we switched apps. Fortunate to not be a one-hit wonder when it comes to ideas, don’t you think?”
Ryan’s face fell but recovered quickly. “But that must go against the rules. To switch just because you hit a road bump?”
“Less of a bump and more of a grenade tossed straight at us.”
“But you can’t—”
“They can,” Nishi said, coming up beside them. She turned to Lucy. “If anyone can come from behind it’s you, but I am sorry Lit didn’t work out.”
“I’m not. This is way better.”
Ryan’s lips thinned.
“Really?” Nishi said with interest. Today she was wearing a deep blue scarf with a tiny undulating pattern that reminded Lucy of the way the light shined on the Pacific. “Care to give a hint?”
“So
rry, but I think we need to keep this one to ourselves.”
Nishi nodded. “Like any good startup should.”
Ryan cleared his throat. “Right, well, if you girls will excuse me, it’s time for the pièce de résistance.”
Ryan brushed past them, and Nishi snorted.
“Oh, sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be. He really is full of himself.”
As they walked down the hall, they passed a room full of egg-shaped woven chairs hanging down from the ceiling, employees cocooned inside them, plugged into laptops and headphones.
Nishi paused at the doorway. “After I sold my first company, Ryan tried to get me to work for him. None of this was here. Here wasn’t even here. He built all this after. Guess he’s got reason to be full of himself, doesn’t he?”
“Does he? You’re not.”
“I’m not nearly as successful. Yet,” Nishi added.
“You’re nothing like him, and you won’t be even when you are as successful. More.”
“When? Not If? You remind me of your mom.”
“Yeah?” Lucy’s heart beat a little faster—this time, in a good way.
“Yeah,” Nishi said, and Lucy wanted to tell her everything—about Girl Empowered, about the night with Ryan, about Emma and the fraud they thought Pulse was. But if they were wrong and they involved someone else . . . someone like Nishi who had everything to lose if—no, when, definitely when—Ryan hit back . . . That gap between the person Lucy was and the one she wanted to be would stretch wider than she could live with.
Nishi leaned into Lucy. “Now, not even a hint . . .”
“Just one. It was inspired by you. Speaking of, do you think you could direct me to the source for some of those stats you were quoting at the women in tech talk?”
Nishi’s eyebrow lifted. “I’m going to like this, aren’t I?”
“If we pull it off, you’re going to love it.”
“When. When you pull it off.”
“When.” And Lucy couldn’t wait.
TWENTY–NINE
STEALTH MODE • A startup operating in secrecy, not revealing what it actually does in order to stave off competition
Screen Queens Page 22
