Click'd

by Tamara Ireland Stone

  Nathan

  you did it

  Allie

  no YOU did it

  WE did it and now we’re even

  Good luck on Saturday

  You too

  Goodnight

  Allie smiled when she saw the alligator emoji. She was still smiling ten minutes later when she climbed into bed, opened Click’d, and navigated over to the CodeGirls group. Even though it was too late for good day/bad day with Courtney, Allie had to tell her about the good parts.

  Allie

  1200+ users fixed the glitch have more success stories

  She put her phone on her nightstand and let her eyes fall shut. As she drifted off, she thought about all the stories she’d gathered so far.

  Blake and Jackson. Kira and Sean. Ben and Brody. And then there was Zoe and Ajay, who had been texting each other every night, and Maddie and Chris, who had eaten lunch together that day.

  But then she realized she had a sixth one. She thought about the photo she and Nathan took in the lab the day they clicked, and smiled to herself. Their new friendship might have been her favorite story of all.

  Allie waited on the corner for the bus, feeling exhausted but pumped with adrenaline at the same time.

  She couldn’t wait to get to school. She was going to try to click with as many people as she could before the first bell rang, and at lunch, she’d make Zoe sneak around with her, finally playing the game she’d invented. But most important, she couldn’t wait to tell Emma it was fixed. Maybe then she’d reinstall it. Or maybe she never would, and that would be okay, too. She just wanted to make it right for her.

  The bus pulled up, the doors slapped open, and Allie climbed the steps with a big grin on her face. But as soon as she hit the landing and she heard Marcus’s voice, the smile slipped from her lips.

  “What happened, Three?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. His eyebrows pinched together, and before he could say anything else, she answered her own question. “Oh, the ClickPics? I had to take them down, but don’t worry, it’s just temporary.”

  But as she continued to her seat, she realized it wasn’t just Marcus. Everyone on the bus was staring at her, and they didn’t look happy.

  “Where’s my leaderboard?” someone called out from the back row.

  “Yeah, mine’s empty,” a girl said.

  “They’re all empty!” another guy added. “Where did everything go?”

  What are they talking about? Allie thought as she fell into the seat next to Zoe. “Okay, what’s happening?”

  “Didn’t you open Click’d today?”

  “Of course!” Allie immediately responded. It was the first thing she did every morning when she woke up. But then she thought about it.

  She’d been curious about the photo queue, so as soon as her alarm sounded, she’d bolted from bed, fired up her computer, and gone straight to the CodeGirls server. She was so thrilled to see it working, her mom had to call her down to breakfast three times, and she’d darted out the door for the bus, speeding to the corner so she wouldn’t miss it.

  “Actually…no. I guess I didn’t.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped on the icon.

  “It’s gone?” she said as she stared down at her screen. “Everyone’s rankings are gone. What happened?”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s what everybody on the bus wants to know.” Zoe tilted her screen in Allie’s direction. It looked the same as hers: nothing but ten question marks next to ten empty photo slots.

  Allie’s fingers flew across the glass as she opened screen after screen, frantically searching for anything that would help her understand how this could have happened.

  “There hasn’t been a single bloop all morning,” Zoe said.

  As soon as the bus came to a stop, Allie stepped into the aisle and sprinted down the steps. But she didn’t go to her locker. And she didn’t go to first-period math, either.

  She was heading for the computer lab, but when she turned the corner and spotted the door, there were a bunch of people standing there. She couldn’t deal with answering their questions. And she couldn’t deal with seeing Ms. Slade. She felt her eyes well up as she took off in the opposite direction. And suddenly, she found herself in front of the library doors.

  She ran up the steps to Emma’s favorite spot in the corner next to the window, and collapsed into one of the beanbag chairs. She let her face fall into her hands and she sat there, letting the peaceful silence seep into her skin.

  The bell rang, but she didn’t move.

  Her phone chirped, but she ignored it.

  She sat there for a long time, going over the events of the night before, thinking about every change she made, every test she ran.

  She’d done exactly what Nathan told her to do.

  Nathan.

  Did he?

  No way.

  He couldn’t have.

  She pulled out her phone and started writing a text to him, when the speakers crackled to life and a woman’s voice filled the silent library air.

  “Allie Navarro, please report to the office. Allie Navarro.”

  When Allie stepped into the empty hallway, she realized she’d been racing around campus all week—running to the lab, sprinting to her locker, rushing through the lunch lines—but now she wasn’t in a hurry at all. She took slow steps, taking as long as she could to get to the office.

  She thought about all the teachers Jane had mentioned, and she pictured them lined up outside Mr. Mohr’s door, each waiting for a turn to complain about Click’d. She could feel the sweat beading up on her forehead.

  She was relieved to find the office empty when she arrived. “Hi,” she said to the assistant behind the counter. “I’m Allie Navarro. Someone paged me?”

  “Mr. Mohr had to take a call,” she said. And then she pointed to a row of uncomfortable-looking chairs. “Have a seat. It might be a while.”

  She sat there for a full fifteen minutes, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. Finally, Mr. Mohr’s office door opened and he waved her inside.

  Allie’s heart started racing again, even faster this time. She’d never been inside Mr. Mohr’s office. He pointed at a brown leather chair on the other side of his desk and said, “Have a seat, Ms. Navarro.”

  As Allie sat down, he opened a file on his desk and read it to himself. It was quiet for a long time, and she wished he would say something—anything—because she was starting to feel claustrophobic. And she needed to drown out all the thoughts in her head. She grabbed a chunk of her hair and wrapped it around her finger for something to do with her hands, while she tried to ignore how thick the air in that tiny room felt.

  He finally let out a long breath and folded his hands in front of him. “I’ve been at Mercer Middle School for sixteen years, and I have to tell you, this has probably been the strangest, most interesting first week of school I’ve ever experienced. Do you know why?”

  Allie shook her head.

  “Teachers have been complaining all week about classroom disruptions from student phones, and over lunch breaks this week, I’ve been forced to start confiscating them. We’ve never had a problem with phones—a few offenders here and there—but for some reason, they’ve become especially popular all of a sudden.”

  Allie tried to look like she had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Have you heard of an app called Click’d?”

  Allie nodded.

  “I hadn’t heard of it until late yesterday. When I did, I went straight to all the online app stores so I could download it and see how it worked firsthand, but I couldn’t find it anywhere.” He stood and crossed the room, and then leaned back against the window overlooking the parking lot. “Do you know why I couldn’t find it anywhere, Ms. Navarro?” he asked as he folded his arms.

  Allie gave him a quick nod.

  “It’s not in any of the app stores, because Click’d was created by one of our very own students. Isn’t that right?”<
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  Allie hugged her chest. She wished she could close her eyes and disappear.

  “Tell me about it,” he said.

  “About Click’d?” Allie asked.

  “Yes. Please. What does it do?”

  Allie shifted in her seat. “Well, it’s an app that helps people find common interests. It learns who you are, and then matches you up with ten people you might want to know.”

  Mr. Mohr nodded and gave her a half smile. “How did you come up with that idea?”

  Allie leaned forward in her seat as she told him all about her summer at CodeGirls camp, and how terrified she was on that first day. “I thought it would be fun to have an app that would help us break the ice,” she said. And then she told him all about Courtney, and how she worked next to her for ten weeks, and how the two of them stayed late in the lab, helping each other with their projects and taking turns running out to the vending machine for late-night snacks.

  “I worked so hard. I’ve never worked that hard on anything before. And when I presented to the parents at the end of camp, I got a standing ovation. I’ve never felt so proud in my whole life. And Ms. Slade was there, and she told me she wanted to mentor me in the Games for Good competition, and…I came back for the first day of school walking on air. I couldn’t wait to show my friends and my computer science class. And they loved it, too.”

  Allie realized she was rambling. She stopped and took a few deep breaths.

  “I didn’t mean to share it. Well, not with that many people…It just took off. It started spreading around campus. And on Tuesday, things started going wrong.” She told him all about the photo glitch, and how she’d spent the last three days working in the lab and at home each night, trying to figure out how to fix it without breaking anything else.

  “Yesterday, Nathan came up with a work-around, just to get me to the Games for Good competition this weekend. But now…” Allie collected herself before she continued. “Now, it doesn’t matter anyway. When I fixed the photo glitch, I broke the leaderboard, and the leaderboard is like the heart of the whole thing. And now, I guess…it’s just…over.”

  She didn’t even feel the tears build up. They just started streaming down her cheeks, one after the other. Mr. Mohr handed her a tissue from a box on his desk. She blew her nose and started rambling again.

  “Everybody’s all annoyed that the app isn’t working, but that’s not even the point! My game isn’t working! Which means that I don’t have anything to enter into the contest. And on top of that, my best friend Emma thinks I’m a horrible person, and my friend group is totally falling apart, and all these people I don’t even know are fighting with each other, and it’s all my fault. Everything’s my fault.”

  When she stopped talking, the room got quiet. Allie wiped her cheeks and blew her nose again.

  Mr. Mohr returned to his desk, folded his hands together in front of him, and looked at her. “I can see how hard you’ve worked and how much this means to you. And I have to say, I’m impressed with your dedication—not only to fixing it, but also to building it in the first place. That’s pretty impressive for a twelve-year-old.” He laughed to himself. “Actually, that’s pretty impressive for anyone.”

  “Thanks,” Allie said.

  “What has Ms. Slade suggested you do?”

  Allie looked down at the carpet. “She doesn’t know any of this.”

  The room got quiet again. “Would you consider telling her?”

  Allie felt sick. She didn’t want Ms. Slade to know she’d messed up. It was even worse that she’d messed up and hadn’t told her when she’d had the chance. But Allie knew Mr. Mohr’s question wasn’t really a question anyway. It was a request. And she didn’t have a choice.

  “Okay,” Allie squeaked out. “I will.”

  “When do you have computer science class?” he asked.

  “Not until sixth period.”

  “Hmm…” He scratched out a note and handed it to her. “Give this to Ms. Slade, please. I’m excusing you from your classes today so you can work with her in the lab and fix your app.”

  “Really?” Allie looked down at the piece of paper in her hand. And then she looked up at him. “Why?”

  He smiled at her. “You spent your summer creating a fun game to help people make friends, and then you spent the whole week in the lab trying to fix it when you learned it was malfunctioning. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. That tells me this matters to you. It shows drive and dedication. I think you set a good example for the rest of our students.”

  Allie couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and she couldn’t seem to find any words to speak, so she just nodded.

  “I could force you to shut your app down, but what kind of message would that send to the rest of the school?”

  Allie wanted to hug him, but she didn’t. Instead, she stood and said, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She gestured toward the door. “I’d better get to work.” Allie walked toward it and turned the knob.

  “Ms. Navarro,” Mr. Mohr said, and Allie stopped and turned to look at him. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why didn’t you just shut your game down when you first realized something was wrong?”

  It was a good question. She started to give him all the reasons she’d been telling herself all week. That people were having fun. That she needed big numbers for Saturday. That she needed good stories to prove that Click’d was doing good in the world. But as all those answers passed through in her mind, she knew that none of them had anything to do with the real reason she didn’t shut it down.

  She locked her eyes on Mr. Mohr and told him the truth. “Everyone knew who I was.”

  “Allie.” Ms. Slade looked surprised to see her there. “Everything okay?”

  She’d been practicing her speech while she was standing out in the hallway, but now her heart was beating so fast, she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to get the whole thing out the way she’d planned.

  “No,” she began. She took a deep breath, trying to slow her breathing. “Everything’s not okay, and I have no idea what to do about it.”

  She handed her the note from Mr. Mohr. Ms. Slade unfolded it, read it, and then locked her eyes on Allie’s. “I think you should start from the beginning.”

  Allie told her everything. All about the photo glitch and the shared personal pictures and the texts and the fights with her friends. She told her that was why she’d been working so late in the lab—that she wasn’t building success stories to add to her presentation like she’d planned to—she was fixing Click’d. She told her about the leaderboard party, and the underwear shot, and the photos she’d missed, and the fights she’d overheard on campus.

  “Nathan thought he knew how to fix it. And when he told me about an issue he was having with Built, I thought I could help him, too. So we switched stations. I came through for him, but last night, when I made the changes he suggested, it somehow disconnected the leaderboard.”

  Allie was trying not to sound accusatory, but she couldn’t help it. She thought back to the events of the day before. Nathan had highlighted everything she needed to change, but she had made the changes herself. And she’d tested it all, countless times. She couldn’t imagine he’d do anything to hurt her on purpose, but given that he had a working app and she no longer did, she couldn’t ignore the possibility.

  She thought about Nathan, sitting next to her with his headphones on. Had he only installed the app because he was trying to get a look inside? Maybe he was trying to sabotage her from the beginning. He knew she had a chance at beating him this time, so he’d decided there was no way he was going to let that happen.

  But then she thought about all their lunches in the lab, reaching into the popcorn bag as they worked on their code, and texting each other as they stayed up late, troubleshooting from home. Had he been playing her all along? She didn’t want to think it was possible.

/>   Ms. Slade curled her finger toward her chest and led Allie to the back of the room. Allie fired up her computer while Ms. Slade sat in Nathan’s seat.

  “Remember, it’s my job to help you find the problem and do whatever I need to do to help you solve it, but I’m a mentor. I can’t fix it for you.”

  Allie nodded. That wasn’t news; she knew the G4G rules.

  “Okay, let’s take a look and see if we can figure out what’s going on,” Ms. Slade said. The classroom started filling up with her second-period class, but she didn’t leave Allie’s side.

  She logged into the CodeGirls server and went straight to the cloud-based database. Allie scrolled down slowly, one line at a time. The answers to everyone’s questions were still there, and she stared at them, trying not to cry. Everything looked right. The algorithm that gathered each person’s leaderboard data and ranked it against the others in the system seemed to be working exactly the way it was supposed to.

  “I have a backup,” Allie said. “I could just revert back to the old code and everything will return to the way it was last night.”

  Ms. Slade’s eyebrows shot up. “But then Click’d would go back to randomly pulling pictures from people’s private photos?”

  “Yeah.” Allie felt guilty for not caring, but what was the worst that could happen? It was Friday. As soon as she got it running again, she could take it offline for the rest of the day.

  “The judges would never figure something like that out, Allie. But you would know. And I would know.” She pointed at the monitor. “I’m afraid you’re going to need to fix it, for real this time.”

  Allie looked at her teacher. A big part of her wished she’d never told Ms. Slade the truth. Why didn’t she just go straight to Ira, revert to the code before she made the changes, and send out another update to the user base? It was that easy to get the leaderboard running again. And then everyone would be happy.

  But she knew deep down that would have been wrong.