Unreal. Is she going to see how she looks right now? In front of everyone?
Ms. Felix nods and Jade taps on her phone. In an instant, the home screen of Jade’s phone is displayed on Ms. Felix’s monitor.
Oh, THAT kind of mirror.
She takes us through the menus of Pirate Kittens, explaining that the game is based on her own calico at home. “I named her Anne Bonny, after the famous female pirate.”
I look around the room. She’s got everyone mesmerized—including Ms. Felix. That familiar sinking feeling that I’ll never be good at anything creeps into my stomach. I’m the one who could really use a visit from Maggie right now.
Like everything else I’ve had to work to understand, I know if I’m going to keep up in this class, I have to buckle down. I’m usually too busy watching epic fails on YouTube to bother with tutorials that could improve my skills, but I’m not about to let this new girl code her way around the rest of us so easily. I’ll stay up past midnight every night if I have to; I’m going to catch up to Jade if it kills me.
Share THAT!
JADE GOES VIRAL
The entire school is cuckoo for Pirate Kittens. The game spreads like last year’s wildfire, with kids playing alone or in groups at every break. I can’t even walk to class without hearing that annoying meowing background music around every corner. I’m not even playing this game and I can’t get the song out of my head.
It turns out Pirate Kittens isn’t Jade’s first app; she’s got a backlist of games she freely shares with anyone who asks—which is pretty much everyone but me. I think I’m the only kid here who DOESN’T play her stupid games. What’ll she come up with next—a game where your avatar ransacks trash cans outside a hospital for bracelets?
While Jade rides her popularity wave, I spend every waking moment watching coding tutorials. Over the weekend, I lock myself in my room on my still-has-no-applications laptop and attempt to write code for my OWN game.
Is Pirate Dogs too much of a rip-off? Or Buccaneer Cats?
It’s HARD coming up with original ideas.
And even if I do pull some fantastic concept out of my imagination, I still have to write the code that’ll make the engine of that idea work. I text and call Umberto several times asking for clarification.
“I keep getting the same error message,” I whine. “I feel like I’m banging my head against a wall.”
“Dude, there can’t be even ONE typo,” Umberto explains. “If there’s one mistake in the code, it won’t work. You have to be super methodical when you check your work.”
I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds like I have to drastically increase the level of proofreading that I usually do with homework. If every report or essay I handed in at school had to have ZERO mistakes, I wouldn’t have gotten past preschool. I might even have to resort to running my homework by some classmates—something I’ve always been too embarrassed to do. I know Carly and Umberto edit each other’s essays in Google Docs all the time. Collaborative homework always seemed like an unnecessary and additional step, but I might have to jump on the bandwagon.
Umberto patiently explains that you have to string together words and symbols in a specific order if you want them to make sense. “It’s the same way a sentence works in any language,” Umberto continues. “You have to arrange the nouns, verbs, adjectives, and prepositions in a certain way—but with numbers. It’s called syntax.”
“You know I stink at grammar!” I say. “Now I’m supposed to learn the grammar of a computer?”
“It might be difficult in the beginning, but you’ll catch on.”
“I’m glad one of us thinks so.”
“When you create something that matches the vision you had for it in your head, it’s really cool,” Umberto says.
I tell him that’s how I feel when I finish a good drawing.
“Exactly. Plus, being so systematic with coding helps you IRL too. Having a coding mind-set lets me see the big picture in other things. I’m much better at working through all kinds of obstacles now.”
If either of my parents had said that, I’d be running to the bathroom to hurl. But Umberto’s a kid; it would be dumb not to take the advice of someone who’s learning the same things as I am.
“Besides, being on the Internet shouldn’t be just a spectator sport—you need to create stuff too. Mr. Ennis and Ms. Felix both talked about that.”
I have to admit, I’ve thought about Ms. Felix’s technology rant often in the past few days. Maybe I SHOULD be paying more attention to where my attention is going.
“Coding can be frustrating,” Umberto adds. “But stick with it—I think you’ll be great.”
There it is again—that vote of confidence in my abilities. Umberto’s rarely wrong. Why start doubting him now?
Before we hang up, I ask him about Jade.
“That girl has some mad skills,” Umberto answers. “I love Ms. Felix, but Jade could be teaching that class. She’s not too bad-looking either.”
Never mind what I said earlier; if Umberto has a crush on my coding-class nemesis, his judgment is totally compromised. I thank him for his help and hang up.
I’m about to get back to work when I see Bodi sitting by the bedroom door. I realize I never took him out to pee and it’s after ten o’clock. Hours have passed while I was lost in my work—maybe I DO have what it takes to be a coder after all.
A DIFFICULT CHOICE
Matt’s been bugging me to check out his brother’s band for months. Before Jamie left for college, Matt and I would hear him practicing in his bedroom all the time, only it sounded less like music and more like an angry rooster. When Matt would ask me what I thought, I’d just smile and give him a thumbs-up. There’s no polite way to tell your best friend that his brother’s music stinks.
But I guess all those years of practice paid off because Jamie’s band has quite a following now; they have over three thousand likes on their Facebook page. The name of his band is Velvet Incinerator, which doesn’t really make sense until Jamie explained that the whole point of a band’s name is that it DOESN’T make sense.
Velvet Incinerator usually plays at bars and clubs up and down the coast. Tonight, however, they’re doing an all-ages show at Amoeba Records, so Matt and I can finally see Jamie play. To make sure there’s a big crowd, we spent the weekend helping Jamie put up flyers outside every local coffee shop. Matt invited half of our school too.
When I asked Carly what time she wanted to meet us at the show, she said she “wasn’t up for it.” Carly’s usually up for anything so something must be really bothering her. Plus, she dropped out of the after-school drawing class and Carly never drops out of ANYTHING.
Matt’s too excited about going to Amoeba to share my concern. “We can head in early with Jamie and look at all the movies and music while he sets up,” Matt says. “Last time I was there, they had a whole new section of Funko Pops!”
“We’ll see if we can beat our previous record,” I add. Whenever Matt and I go to a store together, we keep a tally of how quickly someone comes over and tells us to be quiet. Our current time to beat is a mere twenty-eight seconds. If they gave out Olympic medals for in-store antics, Matt and I would bring home the gold every time.
It’s pretty rare to have the same favorite store as one of your parents, but Dad loves Amoeba Records as much as I do. He always comes up with an excuse to be “in the neighborhood” so he can get lost in all the cool stuff there is to see. When he found out last week that’s where Jamie’s show was, he immediately volunteered to drive us home. I’ve got a sneaking suspicion he’ll show up early to browse through the bins of cult records pretending he’s there to see Jamie’s band.
My thoughts are pulled back to school when I turn a corner outside the administration wing and almost trip over someone. I never even knew Jade existed until coding class, but now I bump into her all the time. She barely looks up but surprises me with a quick nod, which is an improvement from our last few intera
ctions.
I don’t know why Jade keeps to herself so much. She’s a coding rock star and could easily be friends with anyone, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in a conversation with another classmate. Her best friend seems to be her phone—which makes me think yet again about what Ms. Felix said. But I don’t want to get sucked into the rabbit hole of the am-I-a-slave-to-my-phone argument, so I keep on walking.
I’m hit with another surprise when I run into Carly slipping out of Ms. Costa’s office. Ms. Costa is the guidance counselor who’s been at our school the longest; she’s an expert in helping kids with serious issues. After Taylor’s dad died last year, she supported him in dealing with his grief.
“Oh!” Carly says. “What are you doing here?”
I tell her Ms. McCoddle asked me to drop something off to the vice principal on my way to science. “What are YOU doing here?”
I can see the wheels turning inside Carly’s nimble mind. Should she make up an excuse or tell me the truth? In the end, she shrugs and admits she had a meeting with Ms. Costa.
The moron in me wants to bust Carly’s chops but an even bigger part of me can see she’s troubled, and joking around isn’t the correct response. Judging by Carly’s expression right now, a teeny-tiny horse might not be the answer either.
“Was Ms. Costa helpful?” It sounds like the kind of question my mom would ask and I pray it doesn’t make things worse.
“She was,” Carly answers slowly. “It made me feel better to know lots of kids feel anxious sometimes too.”
“You know what else helps people feel better?” I ask. “Doing something fun. Come with us to hear Jamie’s band!”
Carly declines again.
“Aww, come on,” I say. “You just want to watch me beg.”
A smile slowly crosses her face. Finally!
“I don’t want you to beg,” she says. “I just don’t feel like being around a bunch of people right now. I think I’ll stay home and binge-watch some old Nickelodeon shows.”
Normally I’m always up for vegging out in front of the TV, but we’re talking about seeing a concert by a band we actually know at one of the coolest places in L.A. I implore Carly to join us one more time.
“I’m FINE!” Carly says. “Stop worrying.”
Carly’s tone tells me I may have pushed too hard. I hurry to change the subject.
“My mom left a message at the equine-therapy place,” I say. “Maybe we can see the horses next weekend.”
“That sounds great.” Carly rests her hand on my arm. “Thanks for being such a good friend.”
We go our separate ways but Carly’s words echo inside me for the rest of the afternoon. What WOULD a good friend do in this situation? The truth is, I know the answer. But it’s not going to be easy for another one of my friends.
At the end of the day, I catch up with Matt at his locker. “Something came up. I won’t be able to go tonight.”
“WHAT?!” Matt shouts. “We’ve been planning this for weeks!”
“I know … there’s just something I have to do.”
“It better be something important like discovering the antidote to an incurable disease,” Matt says.
“It IS that important,” I answer. “I wouldn’t be bailing on you if it wasn’t.”
Intentionally disappointing a best friend is something I try to avoid at all costs. No matter how much of a good time I’d have with Matt tonight, thinking about Carly home alone watching old TV shows would suck all the fun out of it. Matt wants me to see his brother’s band, but Carly needs a friend even more.
Matt shakes his head. “Guess I’ll have to go to my first real rock show alone.”
“I can go!” Umberto skids to a halt in front of us. “I didn’t think I could get a ride, but I can.”
Now that Umberto’s in, I wonder if my Good Samaritan routine is overkill and I should be celebrating Jamie’s new CD with my friends. My brain fart is temporary, however, and I text Carly to ask if I can hang out at her house tonight.
Suppose she says no? Shouldn’t I have asked her before I pulled the rug out from Matt? Thankfully, Carly texts back YES!
I tell Matt and Umberto to have fun and run to catch Carly at the bus stop.
“I know how much you wanted to go to the concert,” she says. “You really don’t have to keep me company—I’m GOOD.”
I know she’s giving me an out, but I don’t take it.
“Who could pass on an iCarly marathon with the ORIGINAL Carly?” I respond. “Miniature horses couldn’t keep me away.”
The huge grin on Carly’s face as we wait for the bus tells me I made the right decision.
THE BUDDY SYSTEM
Matt and Umberto text me a dozen pics of how much fun they’re having at Jamie’s CD release party, but spending the night reciting catchphrases from old TV shows is fun too. After we finish binging, Carly pulls out her laptop. She logs in to the school’s website to check the grades on our last test and is disappointed they haven’t been posted yet. (I, on the other hand, am elated.) She opens another tab to check out next week’s lunch menu.
“That’s so weird…” Carly’s forehead wrinkles. “My mom just put money in my account yesterday. Why does it say I’m at zero?”
“Did you buy pizza for Ms. McCoddle’s entire class and not invite me?” I ask.
She ignores my joke and hits refresh several times. The account is still empty … and her frown is back.
“The page is probably just down for maintenance,” I suggest. “This sort of thing happens on the meme site all the time. Let me check mine. I’m sure it’s a temporary glitch.”
Carly turns her laptop toward me and I log in. When the page loads, my lunch balance also shows up at zero dollars.
“See, I told you. It’ll be back to normal by morning.”
“I hope so.” Carly still looks worried. Thankfully, the number of unopened emails in my inbox steals her focus. “OMG, Derek. When was the last time you checked your email?”
“Uhm … last month?”
I need to be constantly reminded to check my mailbox on the school’s network. It’s a good thing Carly points it out, because there’s an email from Ms. Felix announcing she’s partnering the class for the next assignment.
“NEXT assignment?” I say. “I haven’t even finished the last one.” I practically throw myself across the room. “I’m doomed!”
“It’s not that bad.” Carly points to the screen. “At least you’re paired with someone who knows how to code.”
“Umberto?” I pop up.
“Not exactly.”
I slowly drag myself back to Carly’s computer to face the music head-on. Sure enough, I’m partnered with Jade.
“That’s good, right?” Carly asks. “She’s seems knowledgeable. You’ll probably learn a lot.”
I pretend to bang my head against Carly’s desk. Spending time with Jade is not my idea of fun. Even worse, Jade is probably thinking the same about me.
When Tuesday morning rolls around, I haven’t even finished entering the combination to my locker before Jade taps me on the shoulder. “I’ll be at your house at three o’clock to get cracking on the new app assignment,” she says. “Should take twenty minutes but I’m budgeting ten times that since I’m working with you.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“So you agree the deadweight variable in this equation is you?” Jade cracks the first smile I’ve ever seen. “See you at three.”
We haven’t started working together yet and I’m already praying for this week to be over.
“You don’t know where I live,” I call after her.
“Of course I do,” she says. “Took me less than thirty seconds to find out.”
Umberto may be right about Jade’s mad skills, but right now she’s making me plain old MAD.
At three o’clock on the dot Jade appears at the door. Her laptop is attached to her back with some kind of elaborate strap system.
“Are you g
oing skydiving?” I ask. “Because it looks like you—”
“Brought a parachute? Yeah, I get it.” She plops into a chair at the kitchen table and stares at me with an expression that says, “Well?”
I open my laptop and take the chair beside her. Before I can offer her a drink or a snack—as my parents have reinforced a thousand times—she pulls out a bag of pistachios and an old-fashioned plaid thermos. She doesn’t ask me if I want any, which is fine because I DON’T.
“First things first,” Jade says. “Do you want to learn this or do you just want to get the assignment done as quickly as possible?”
It’s a ridiculous question. Who DOESN’T want to be finished with homework in the fastest amount of time? But because I want to torment her, I tell her the exact opposite—that I can’t wait to learn from her vast experience. In reality I want to spend the absolute minimum amount of time with Jade, but I’m willing to sacrifice my own wishes to make her even more miserable than I am. However, she seems unfazed by my answer; instead, she pops another pistachio into her mouth and begins typing.
“Based on your current coding abilities, I think we should start with something pretty generic. How does a homework-organization app sound?”
My Life as a Coder Page 4
