Screen Queens

by Lori Goldstein

  “Exactly.”

  “But I didn’t apply. . . . I’m not sure I can start in the fall.”

  “I may not be the founder of Pulse—”

  “Thank goodness,” Delia said.

  She smiled. “But these are strings I can pull. Oh, and after breakfast, I’d like you and your cohorts to meet me in my office. I can’t shake the feeling that Girl Empowered deserves some serious consideration. Never been an investor before, but maybe it’s time to add another line to my résumé. What do you think?”

  “Oh, she thinks,” Cassie said, and for the millionth time in her life, Delia was grateful to have Cassie as her best friend. Cassie always had her back. And then Delia remembered Natalie.

  “Uh, Nishi?” she asked. “If you’re looking for programmers, I have someone I’d like to recommend. I wouldn’t be here without her.”

  “Well, can’t get a better recommendation than that. Send her my way.”

  The night had left Delia without words. All she had left were emotions. So many that after parting with her parents and Cassie, on her walk back to the dorms, she had to fight the ballooning in her throat. And then, a text came through, and she gave up the battle.

  Eric and Marty had won ValleyStart.

  Her heart exploded. She couldn’t have been happier than if her team had won. And maybe, maybe not even as happy. Because this meant Eric was staying in the Valley. Just like she was.

  She’d miss her family, but she was starting to have one here too.

  She wouldn’t be going back to Littlewood.

  (Good riddance, parkas.)

  THIRTY–EIGHT

  IN THE WILD • When a new product is finally out in the real world

  FOUR.

  Still.

  Four ValleyStart teams commanded the balcony at the end of the hall. Lucy had been pacing in front of the door, waiting for them to leave for the past twenty minutes. She’d poked (jammed) her head in twice (okay, four times), her arms full of the comforter from her bed and the bag of junk food (fine, kale chips and wasabi peas and free-trade organic chocolate) she’d picked up (looted) from the ValleyStart snack center after her mom had dropped her off. She’d already texted Maddie and Delia to meet her outside after saying goodbye to their families for the night.

  The Demo Day party must have ended early. And now four teams were on the balcony that was supposed to be theirs. She’d been subtle. (Subtle-ish.) No more.

  She dropped her blanket and tote and pulled out her phone, determined to find the longest, most graphic YouTube video on menstruation she could when someone said, “Hey, Luce.”

  Not someone.

  Freaking Gavin Cox.

  “Missed you at the party,” he said.

  “Uh-huh.” Lucy kept swiping.

  “Saw your mom came. That’s cool. Mine, well, you know. If we’d won, that’d be different, but—”

  “What do you want, Gavin?”

  He pushed a loose curl behind his ear. “Can’t we just talk? Like we used to?”

  “No, we can’t.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Lucy lowered her phone. “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “Wasn’t sure that word was in your vocabulary.”

  “Which?”

  “Fair.”

  “I deserve that.”

  “And a hell of a lot more,” she muttered. But the torrent of anger she expected to be swirling inside her wasn’t. All she felt was sad. “What made you do it?”

  Gavin couldn’t look at her. “He promised me the win. You’d have done the same.”

  “Probably. Which sucks. I don’t want to be that person.”

  “No, trust me, you don’t.” When his eyes again met hers, they were awash in regret. “But, hey, the new app? Even cooler. So in a way you have me to thank.”

  “In a twisted, disturbing way, but, yeah, I guess.”

  “Listen, if I’d have known . . .”

  “He covered well.”

  “He can’t anymore. Not with all the comments on your article.”

  Her pulse quickened. “Trolls are out already?”

  “Some. But most are from people who have stories like yours. Pulse board already tweeted something about an investigation into him and the company.”

  Everything had moved so fast, Lucy hadn’t had time to think about what would happen after. This was what she’d have hoped, right? Validation for everything. And yet all Lucy could feel was intense sorrow for everyone else, for the women Ryan targeted, for the ones speaking up and the ones not, and for everyone who might lose their jobs, the ones building a company on a foundation they’d had no way of knowing was a fraud.

  “Will I be seeing you at Stanford?” Gavin asked.

  Lucy shook her head.

  “Too bad.” He tucked his hands in the pockets of his gray jeans. Paired with his white oxford, his clothes might have fooled Lucy that they were back in high school. But one look in his eyes, and what they’d been through let her know they weren’t in high school anymore.

  Gavin started to leave and then spun back around. He slipped his backpack off his shoulder and dug out a bottle of champagne.

  “Turns out, my celebration’s off.” He handed her the bottle and pointed toward the opposite end of the hall. “Stairs to the roof. Not a bad view.” He gave a half smile. “Assuming you already have company?”

  Lucy slipped on her butterfly-frame sunglasses. “Tonight, Silicon Valley is a girls’ club.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Like on day one, Maddie arrived first.

  She and her brother shared the same constellation of freckles, the ones that had never lifted as high on Maddie’s cheeks as when she’d seen Danny in the audience.

  Lucy handed her a plastic cup.

  Maddie lifted her aviators to her head and eyed the bottle of champagne. “Your mom?”

  Lucy snorted. “We’re not that close.”

  Yet.

  “Gavin,” Lucy said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “No, really. He apologized. Sort of. Ryan used him too.”

  That didn’t mean she’d forgiven him. Even if some part of her wanted to.

  An explosion through the doorway drew their attention, and in came Delia in her round sunglasses, body bouncing as much as her curls.

  Lucy put a cup in her hand, and Delia’s shoulders dropped. She removed her sunglasses. “Oh, I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

  “About Ryan?”

  “Ryan? No, me. And Nishi. She offered me a job. Here. Can you believe it? I can stay and work and go to school at Mountain View U and . . . oh, oh . . .” Delia’s eyes widened. “You guys . . . you’re both . . . I couldn’t have done any of this without you and Nishi knows . . . but I mean, I’m sure she just needs programmers, and if—when—she needs—”

  “Delia.” Lucy wrapped her hand around Delia’s wrist. “It’s okay. I’m happy for you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah,” Maddie said. “You deserve it. You kicked major ass. This whole time. Especially during your part of the presentation. Sorry I choked, by the way.”

  “I’m not,” Delia said. “I’d have wondered ‘what if’ every day if I hadn’t gone onstage. I’ll take being scared over regrets.”

  “Sounds like a toast,” Maddie said, reaching for the bottle.

  “Uh,” Lucy said, watching her grasp it by the neck without placing a hand over the top. “Have you ever opened one of those before, because—”

  Maddie rolled her eyes and twisted too fast and the cork shot out of the bottle with a thunderous pop!—soaring into the sky and plummeting into the fountain below.

  “Duck!” Maddie cried, peering over the edge.

  “A little late with the
warning, isn’t it?” Lucy said.

  “No, because it’s for us—I’m pretty sure that’s a campus cop down there!”

  “A what?” Delia cried, and Lucy dragged them both down onto her comforter where they all devolved into hushed laughter as they tried to catch the cascade of bubbly spewing from the bottle.

  As Delia sat cross-legged, she stroked the blanket.

  “Good enough to nap under?” Lucy said, raising an eyebrow.

  “It was once,” Delia said, sheepishly.

  “Twice,” Lucy said.

  “It looked lonely?”

  Maddie poured champagne into each of their glasses. “If napping under this means she can code like that, well, give her the damn thing.” Maddie raised her glass in the air. “Now, what first?”

  “To Delia,” she and Lucy said at the same time.

  Lucy propped herself up on her heels. “To Delia. Who brought so many things to life—from Lit to Girl Empowered to—”

  “Us. She wouldn’t let us quit,” Maddie said.

  Their plastic cups may not have made a sound when they touched, but it didn’t matter, because each of their hearts was beating loud enough.

  They sipped. Delia hiccupped and lifted her glass. “And to both of you. I may have been able to do this on my own, but I wouldn’t have wanted to.”

  “Me neither,” Maddie said.

  “Well . . .” Lucy started, and they both shot her a look. “Kidding, just kidding.” She took another sip. “So, Delia’s staying, but I’m curious . . . Madeline, have you been drawn in by our sunshine too?”

  “Rain makes things green, you know,” Maddie said.

  “And wet.”

  “And lets you take a shower longer than three minutes.”

  “Huh,” Lucy said, “you got me there.”

  “There’s much to like here,” Maddie said, quickly glancing at each of them. “But I think the East Coast is calling me. Maybe NYU. It’s a great school and the city’s full of artists and museums and—”

  “You’re a good sister, Maddie,” Delia said. Maddie shrugged uncomfortably, and Delia changed the subject. “What’s next for you, Lucy?”

  Lucy had been thinking a lot about that, but for once she wasn’t jumping to make concrete plans. Everything seemed open to her—something that hadn’t been the case since she was Maddie’s brother’s age. She wanted to enjoy it. Or try to anyway.

  “My mom’s got a business trip to London coming up. I’m thinking I’ll go. Spend time with her and see my dad, and then, well, I’m still weighing my options. One thing I was kicking around was asking Nishi if she’d be interested in sponsoring an incubator for girls next summer. I’d kill it organizing that.”

  “You may kill everyone else while doing it,” Maddie said. “But, yeah, you would.”

  Lucy felt herself getting choked up.

  Was this it?

  “Oh!” Delia almost dropped her drink. “I can’t believe I forgot! Nishi wants to invest in Girl Empowered! If we want to actually do it.”

  “Do pterodactyls fly?” Maddie said.

  “And she said we didn’t win.” Lucy snickered. “Sneaky, real sneaky, Nishi.” Lucy poured out the rest of the champagne. “Good thing when your toasts outlast your bottle, right?”

  “You do know who we’re forgetting though?” Maddie said.

  “Don’t say anything about Ry—”

  “No,” Maddie said. “Older than that. Way older.”

  Delia grinned. “It’s time she got her due. All of them. The first screen queens.”

  And then Lucy realized who they meant. She held her glass high and said, “To Ada.”

  “To Ada,” they repeated.

  Because that was how they were all related. The women that came before, the women of now, and the ones to come.

  All empowered.

  For the future they’d create.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Bringing a book to life is much like founding a startup. The first thing that’s required is an unwavering belief in the idea. And that I have been lucky to find with my editor, Jessica Harriton. One look at the number of smiley faces and exclamation marks we’ve exchanged while working on this book together is proof enough of your unbound enthusiasm, for which I am eternally grateful. Thank you for your constant support, encouragement, and sharp editorial eye.

  Thank you to everyone at Razorbill and Penguin Young Readers for helping Screen Queens to “go public,” in start-up lingo, and for making me feel so at home, especially Casey McIntyre and Ben Schrank (emeritus!). I owe my gratitude to Krista Ahlberg for her stellar copyediting skills and Vivian Kirklin for her strong proofreading eye. To Mallory Heyer, thank you for your beautiful cover illustration that perfectly captures each girl’s personality and strength. Thanks also to Theresa Evangelista for the impeccable jacket design and Corina Lupp for making Pulse feel like it was ripped out of an app store! My appreciation to Kaitlin Kneafsey for all her publicity magic.

  To Katelyn Detweiler, my deepest gratitude for, well, everything. Your editorial insights make me a better writer, and your warmth, optimism, and steadfast belief make me an indebted one. I appreciate all that you and everyone at Jill Grinberg Literary Management do every day on my behalf.

  Many startups owe their success to a “friends and family round” and so do I. This book wouldn’t be here without the help of Pamela Ardila, Jen Brooks, Lee Kelly, Chandler Baker, Kelly Loy Gilbert, and especially Natalie Mae, whose previous life as a programmer ensured the accuracy and authenticity of both the coding and the experiences of the women in this book. You are all wildly talented—the embodiment of “girl empowered”—and your friendship and support mean everything to me.

  I wouldn’t be in this career without the love and understanding of my family—my parents, Denise and Frank, in-laws, Martha and Steve, and the Marangos and Goldstein families. Thank you especially for putting up with my deadlines!

  On the subject of those deadlines . . . writing would not be my version of startup’s “big hairy audacious goal,” without one particular person. Thank you, Marc, for reading every word, and for letting me know the ones that need to change and the ones that make you laugh and cry (sorry!). Thank you for always being my angel investor.

  This book is about taking chances. Like the ones taken by the pioneering women in this book and by the women today who are forging new paths in STEM and making their voices heard in the #metoo movement. Thank you to all the women who are standing up, often in the face of discrimination and seemingly insurmountable odds, to empower the next generation. As much as I hope Lucy, Maddie, and Delia are role models for girls pursuing interests in STEM, I also hope they represent the other key tenet of this book: the power of friendship.

  RESOURCES

  Thanks to the following online sources for the background that informed the definitions used in the chapter titles: Silicon Valley Dictionary, Investopedia, Funding Sage, Techopedia, Cambridge Dictionary, Martin Fowler, Wired, Medium, and TechCrunch.

  While I have previously worked in IT publishing, many sources contributed to the base of knowledge for the experiences of women in tech, notably Emily Chang’s Brotopia: Breaking Up the Boys’ Club of Silicon Valley and The Atlantic’s “Why Is Silicon Valley So Awful to Women?” Statistics and facts cited in the book come from the following: the Department for Professional Employees’ “The Professional and Technical Workforce”; Boardroom Insiders’ “2018 State of Women CIOs in the Fortune 500”; The New Yorker’s “The Tech Industry’s Gender-Discrimination Problem”; Microsoft’s “Closing the Stem Gap”; The Atlantic’s “How Self-Tracking Apps Exclude Women” and “Are the New iPhones Too Big for Women’s Hands?”; Fortune’s “The Number of Women in Computing Has Plummeted”; NPR’s “When Women Stopped Coding”; and Catalyst’s “Women in Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics (STEM).”
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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lori Goldstein was born into an Italian-Irish family and raised in a small town on the New Jersey shore. She earned her bachelor's degree in journalism from Lehigh University and worked as a writer, editor, and graphic designer before becoming a full-time author. She currently lives and writes outside of Boston. Lori is also the author of the young adult contemporary fantasy series Becoming Jinn (Feiwel & Friends/Macmillan). You can visit her online at www.lorigoldsteinbooks.com.

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