Spotlight on Coding Club!

by Michelle Schusterman

  “Thanks again,” I said, giving Maya a quick hug.

  “Of course.” She gave me a last concerned look, then left.

  As soon as I closed the door behind her, I took another deep, slow breath. Then I plastered a smile on my face and went to help my mom unpack the rest of the groceries.

  Chapter Six

  I spent Sunday afternoon running more tests for bugs on our feature of the talent show app, writing an essay for English class, and worrying about seeing Maya at school. I thought I’d done a pretty good job convincing Mom that backing out of the talent show was a responsible decision based on all my other commitments, not a spontaneous freak-out due to picking a song that made me think of Dad.

  Maya had been a witness to the freak-out, though. She’d promised not to say anything to Mom, but would she tell the others? I couldn’t stop imagining a secret group text going on behind my back. I must have picked up my phone and started typing in our chat at least a hundred times by Sunday night, but I didn’t actually want to talk about this over text. And while I didn’t want to talk about it at school, either, that was my only other option. So by the time I got to lunch Monday, I’d made up my mind: If Maya hadn’t already said anything, I was going to tell my friends everything.

  Probably.

  My stomach twinged with nerves as I spotted Maya, Lucy, Sophia, and Leila at our usual table in the middle of the cafeteria. What if I started talking about my dad and had a panic attack right there in front of half the school? I pushed that image from my mind and slid onto the bench next to Leila.

  “Erin, check it out!” she said excitedly, holding her phone where I could see it. On the screen, a boxy little robot on wheels rolled up to a toy xylophone. A mallet was attached to the center of the robot, and as I watched, it started to hammer out a familiar melody.

  “Mary had a li-ttle lamb . . . ,” I sang along, scrunching up my face and headbanging like a rock star, and Leila cracked up. “Seriously, that’s so awesome!”

  “Thanks,” Leila said. “I think I’m going to keep working on it after the talent show. Maybe program it to play a more complicated song. I know it’s probably not as cool as a lot of the videos film club is getting.”

  “Do you know how many more videos came in?” Lucy asked me.

  “So many, we literally broke the entire Internet,” I deadpanned, and she giggled. “But the good news is, I think our voting part of the All the Talents app is ready to go. I tested it a bunch all weekend. And your sister helped!” I added, nudging Leila’s elbow.

  “Yeah, she told me,” Leila replied. “Thanks so much for doing that, Erin. I know you were busy making your video, too.”

  Sophia stifled a yawn. “Oh, that’s right!” she said, looking from me to Maya. “How’d it go? Can we see it?”

  Maya and I glanced at each other, and she bit her lip and looked down at her sandwich. Okay, so she hadn’t told them what happened at all. Which meant it was up to me. My heart started pounding, and a fresh wave of anxiety flooded through me.

  Nope. Not now.

  “Actually, I decided not to enter,” I said breezily, opening a bag of chips. “Too busy with other stuff, you know? Work zombie didn’t have the brains to think ahead, ha ha.”

  Lucy and Leila looked surprised, but Sophia nodded.

  “I totally get it,” she said. “I spent the whole weekend doing homework and helping out with chores. And every day after school I’ve either got coding club or softball tryouts. I never would’ve found time to make a talent show video, too!”

  Lucy was still watching me. “Maybe you could take a day off from film club to make your video. I’m sure your teacher would understand.”

  I shrugged. “Eh, it’s fine. Watching everyone else’s videos is way more fun, anyway.”

  “But you’re such a great performer! If you—”

  “I don’t want to.” The words came out way louder than I’d intended, and I could feel Maya staring at me. Whoops. I put on a silly vampire accent. “Eh-vary-body is treated to entertainment by ze Great Erin Roberts eh-vary day. Vy not give others a chance to vin?”

  My friends cracked up, and my shoulders slumped in relief.

  “Besides,” I added lightly, my voice back to normal. “I’ve never been a part of all this behind-the-scenes stuff for a show. It’s cool!”

  “It is.” Leila smiled at me. “But I still think you would’ve won.”

  “Me too,” Sophia added. “And I’m really sad we never got to see you do that dance.”

  “Or be your backup dancers,” Lucy added. “Onstage, in front of the whole school . . . on second thought, maybe I’m glad you changed your mind.”

  Everyone laughed, and I could feel my anxiety draining away. I felt bad for not being completely honest, but a crowded cafeteria wasn’t the best place for a serious talk, anyway. I’d tell my friends the truth later.

  “So I finished the teacher app,” Lucy told us. “Could any of you test it out?”

  And suddenly, it was the bug-testing ordeal all over again. I could tell from the other girls’ faces that no one wanted to volunteer—especially considering they’d already told Lucy they were too busy to help with the voting feature for the All the Talents web app. And honestly, the idea of doing even more testing for bugs after I’d done so much for the voting part on the site kind of made my head hurt. But the silence was getting awkward, and I didn’t want Lucy to get upset. So I bounced up and down in my seat and waved my hand in the air.

  “Oooh, pick me, pick me!”

  Smiling, Lucy crumpled up her napkin. “Thanks, Erin! Ugh, I can’t believe it’s Mrs. Clark’s last week teaching.”

  “It’s going to be so weird without her.” Leila sighed. “But I bet she’ll love TechTown. Tania is actually trying to get an internship there.”

  Lucy’s eyes widened. “Really? That’s so cool! What would she be doing?”

  As Leila told us more about the internship, I nodded along with everyone else. But now that I’d told my friends about backing out of the talent show, it was official, and the disappointment was sinking in. There was no chance I’d get to do my act onstage. Not that I cared that much about winning, but hey, maybe I would’ve had a shot.

  My phone buzzed, and I glanced down to see a text from Maya.

  u ok?

  She gave me a questioning look, and I smiled brightly at her before replying:

  I slid my phone into my pocket and turned my attention back to Leila. But I couldn’t help noticing Maya giving me nervous glances for the rest of lunch. I wished I could find a way to reassure her that she had nothing to worry about. Plan All the Distractions was still totally working. I had made it through my history test, a practice timed essay in English, and a pop quiz in social studies without even a hint of a panic attack.

  By the time I walked into Mrs. Clark’s classroom for coding club, I’d forgotton about Maya’s nervous looks and was in a pretty good mood.

  “What’s that?” I asked as I passed Bradley’s computer. Then I stopped. “Whoa—is that the site?”

  “Told you we were making some improvements,” Bradley said with a snort. I had to admit, the design was really cool. The background was an image of our school, but with a blurry, pastel effect that made it look like a watercolor painting. All the Talents! stretched across the top, and below was a transparent box with information about submitting and another one with voting instructions.

  Maddie reached over and grabbed Bradley’s mouse. “Wait, you haven’t seen the best part,” she told me, scrolling down. Below the voting instructions was a collage of photos. Familiar photos. I leaned closer to the screen, my eyes widening.

  “Are these screenshots?”

  Bradley nodded. “All the ones that the film club has approved so far. There’s mine!” He pointed to the photo of himself making a goofy face, and I grinned, remembering
his stand-up act. It was pretty hilarious, I had to admit. And there was Leila’s robot, and a picture from this amazing Claymation video Sarah Rodriguez had made, and Kyle Ward in the middle of a dance move . . .

  Clutching my heart, I swooned and fell to my knees. “Guys, I am dead,” I told them. “I am dead from the awesomeness of this site.”

  Maddie giggled. “Yeah, it was a lot of work. But we thought if everyone could see all the different kinds of acts that contestants were doing, maybe it would encourage even more people to enter.”

  “No problem there,” I said. “I think at least half the school’s submitted a video by now.”

  Lucy had the site open on her computer, too. Just like last week, she and I were the only ones in our group. I sat down next to her, and she sighed.

  “Sophia’s not coming,” she told me. “Softball tryouts. I’m not sure where Maya or Leila are, though.”

  “I bet they’ll be here soon.” I tried to keep my voice upbeat. And sure enough, Maya and Leila hurried into the room just as I finished logging into my computer. Maya turned to wave at someone in the hall, and I caught a peek of Hannah waving back right before the door closed.

  Maya sat on my other side, and I nudged her with my elbow. “Did you talk to her?” I whispered, and she looked confused.

  “Who?” Then she glanced at the door. “Oh, Hannah. No, not yet. I will, though!”

  She gave me a weird, tight smile, then faced her computer. And just like that, my anxiety was back, a tiny knot in my stomach twisting more and more every second. Maya was definitely acting strange. Was it because she was nervous about asking Hannah out? Why wouldn’t she just talk to me about it, like she did on Saturday?

  Maybe it wasn’t about Hannah at all. Maybe she was still weirded out about what happened over the weekend. For the next hour while we worked on adding our voting-feature code to the web app, Maya’s eyes kept darting over to me, like I might start hyperventilating any second. And when Leila successfully voted on the first video with the whole club gathered around her computer, Maya was the only one who didn’t cheer.

  “We still have a lot to do this week,” Mrs. Clark reminded us as we put on our coats and turned off our computers. “We’ll need to monitor everything as students start to vote tomorrow, and be ready to address any bugs. But you all have done an amazing job with this site. I’m so impressed!”

  The second we walked out of her classroom, I threw my arms up in the air. “We are the champions,” I sang, my voice echoing down the empty corridor.

  “We kind of are,” Leila agreed, pumping her fists.

  “Remember the first day of coding club, with the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?” I asked. “And now we can design a whole site in, like, a week!”

  Lucy gave a sweeping look at all of us. “We are definitely the coding champions.”

  Everyone was in high spirits as we left the school. But as soon as I waved goodbye to my friends, the anxiety knot doubled in size. Because I knew I would check to see if Dad was online the moment I got home, and I was dreading seeing that little gray dot showing that he wasn’t there.

  I ducked my head against the chilly wind and tried to think about anything else. Like Maya. Maybe I should call her tonight so we could talk about Saturday. The more I thought about it, the better it sounded. I’d tell her all about my dad’s mission and the panic attacks. And then I’d tell Lucy, Sophia, and Leila, too. Maybe it would even help get rid of the weird tension in our group once and for all.

  By the time I was unlocking the front door, I felt better. But then I saw Mom sitting on the couch, and the expression on her face made my knees go rubbery.

  “What’s wrong?” I said immediately, my chest so tight I could barely breathe. “Is it Dad?”

  Mom’s eyes widened. “No, honey, he’s—I haven’t heard from him. I’m sure he’s still fine.”

  I exhaled, my hands shaking. “Okay. But why are you home early?”

  “Because Mrs. Chung called me during lunch.” Mom looked at me with a mix of hurt and disappointment. “Erin, why didn’t you tell me you had a panic attack this weekend?”

  Chapter Seven

  My relief that this wasn’t about Dad was quickly replaced with dread. Maya’s mom had told Mom about my panic attack . . . which meant Maya had told her. Now I knew why she’d been acting so weird all day. She hadn’t been worried about me having another panic attack—she was worried about me finding out she’d told her mom about it.

  “Um.” My brain felt jammed. There was no point in denying anything, and I wasn’t trying to think of a lie. I just didn’t know what to say.

  Mom was watching me silently. I took my time hanging up my coat in the front closet, then walked into the living room.

  “I’m sorry,” I said finally. “I didn’t want you to worry. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Erin . . .” Mom paused, and my throat tightened, because she looked more hurt than angry. She patted the empty space next to her on the couch, and I sat down. “You used to talk to me about your anxiety. You always told me about your panic attacks, and we handled them together. We were a team.”

  I swallowed hard. “I know, but . . . but this isn’t like back then.”

  “It’s not? How?”

  “It’s . . .” I shook my head. “I can handle it now. I’ve got distractions.”

  Mom’s forehead wrinkled. “Distractions?”

  “Yeah, remember? Jillian said theater was a great way to manage my anxiety,” I said eagerly. “And now I’ve got film club and coding club to help me not think about . . . about . . .”

  After a few seconds, understanding dawned on Mom’s face.

  “About your dad?”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

  “Erin, I do remember what Jillian said about theater,” Mom said slowly. “But I don’t think she meant it was good for you because it distracted you from important things. Overworking yourself isn’t going to help you manage your anxiety—it might even make it worse.”

  “I’m not overworking myself!” I exclaimed.

  “No? Then why did you drop out of the talent show? Because you told me it was that you’d taken on too much.”

  I had no response to that—she was totally right. But I couldn’t tell her the truth. I couldn’t tell her that just singing a song that reminded me of Dad had triggered my panic attack. It made me feel like a baby. I was older now; I should be able to handle his missions. So I just sat there, staring at the carpet.

  “Sweetheart, I’m worried about you,” Mom said softly. “I think maybe you need to take a break from your clubs.”

  “What?” My head snapped up. “No! That’ll make things worse. Extracurriculars help anxiety! All my therapists said so!”

  Mom sighed. “Erin, if you value therapy so much, why have you been putting off letting me call the therapists on the list I gave you?”

  “Because I don’t need one!” I said, frustration boiling over. “I needed one in elementary school, but I’m better now. I can handle this. And I don’t have time for appointments after school, anyway.” I stared down at the carpet again, not sure what to do with my hands.

  “Actually, you do have the time.” Mom’s mouth was a thin line. “You dropped out of the talent show and lied to me about the reason why. You had a panic attack and didn’t tell me about it. You’re not being honest with me, and you’re taking on way too much, which is not healthy. So until we get this sorted out, I want you to come home right after school every day.”

  “No, I can’t!” I yelled. “We’ve got too much to do with the talent show this week, I have to—”

  “I’ll talk to your teachers,” Mom interrupted. “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

  “You don’t understand,” I snapped. “Dad would never make me quit my clubs.”

  I closed my mouth, surp
rised at myself. I’d never spoken to Mom like that before. She looked shocked, and even more hurt than before, but I swallowed my guilt.

  “This conversation is over, Erin,” she said quietly.

  “Fine.” I stormed off to my room. As soon as I slammed my door, tears welled up in my eyes. I flopped down onto my bed and instinctively grabbed Brave Bonnie Broomstick. Then I blinked, staring down at her fuzzy face and crooked buttons. Really? I still needed the same comfort toy I used in third grade?

  “Nope,” I announced, setting her back against my pillows. “Sorry, Bonnie. I can handle this on my own.”

  I pulled out my phone instead, opening the group text with my friends. My fingers hovered over the screen, and I glanced at the date on the last text in the chain. We hadn’t texted since Friday because everyone was so busy.

  My eyes grew hot again, but right before tears spilled over, my phone vibrated in my hands. I blinked down at the screen to see a string of text messages from Maya.

  plz plz plz don’t be mad at me, but . . .

  i told my mom what happened on saturday and I think she called your mom today

  i know i promised not to tell but i’m worried about you . . .

  you said that panic attack wasn’t a big deal, but it scared me!

  The knot in my stomach loosened. My fingers shook as I typed my response.

  I know, just talked to my mom.

  I’m not mad at you, and I’m sorry

  I scared you

  I’m so relieved!!!!

  I let out a shaky giggle, reaching for a tissue right as her next text popped up.

  was your mom upset?