26

I called Mouse before I even pulled out of Isabel’s driveway and threatened his life if he didn’t agree to drive us all to the concert Saturday. I had to promise to buy his ticket and pay for gas, but that was a small price for an entire day of music, a girl, and glorious freedom.

Then I drove straight to Zach’s house and pounded on his front door.

‘Where’s the fire?’ Zach’s dad threw the door open, a broad smile on his face and a dish towel draped over one shoulder. ‘Hey, Eli. Come on in. Zach’s in the kitchen.’

Zach wasn’t the only one. His mom was zooming around, as always, cleaning up their dinner mess, while his little sister bounced a soccer ball on her knee – one hand spotting the ball, the other wrapped around a grilled cheese sandwich. Zach was the calm at the centre of the storm, sitting cross-legged on top of the kitchen counter, his computer in his lap. Zach frowned when he saw me, but he hopped off the counter and motioned for me to follow him down a hall to his room. I started talking as soon as he closed the door.

‘Look, I know you’re annoyed with me right now, and I probably owe you an apology, but can we just skip past all of that and fast-forward to the part where I tell you I just spent the last two hours at Isabel Ortega’s house?!’

Zach’s eyes, which had narrowed as I talked, now flew open wide. ‘What?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Isabel.’

‘Yep.’

‘Ortega.’

‘The one and only.’

‘Did you—’

‘No, Zach, I did not inject her with my code.’

He laughed, and I collapsed onto his bed, overwhelmed by my good fortune.

‘What were you doing at her house?’

I told him all about the Ashley– Isabel encounter and how it had given me the guts to talk to Isabel, how she had offered to help me with Spanish, and how we’d almost kissed. I didn’t even try to sound cool in the retelling, because this was Zach, and he knew exactly how big a deal an almost-kiss with Isabel Ortega was.

‘And hey,’ I said, sitting up, ‘she invited me to a concert this weekend and said I could invite anyone I want. You have to come.’

‘What concert?’

‘The Ravens.’

He scrunched up his face. ‘Are we Ravens fans?’

‘We are now.’

He nodded. He understood.

And I realised my good fortune wasn’t limited to Isabel.

I made myself a promise right then that I wouldn’t blow Zach off again – not for ACC practise or Friends of Bishop or even a girl.

‘The concert is up north at some fairgrounds outside of Iowa City,’ I said.

‘Okay.’

‘And Isabel needed a ride.’

‘But we don’t have cars.’

‘Right.’ I held my breath, not looking forward to this next part. ‘That’s why I had to invite Mouse. You met him the other day – sort of.’

‘Oh.’ Zach’s face went dark.

‘And Seth. He’ll probably go too—’

‘Why are you hanging out with Seth March?’ Zach exploded. ‘He’s such a d-bag, and he’s not even in our grade. And don’t say he’s helping you with Spanish, because I’m not that stupid.’

I tugged at a loose thread on Zach’s comforter. The seconds ticked by as I pulled the string, watching it slowly unravel back and forth along the comforter’s edge.

‘I wanted to tell you,’ I said without looking up.

Zach’s desk chair squeaked as he dropped into it and rolled it forward to sit square in front of me.

‘Tell me what?’

Everything.

But everything was still too dangerous. We had two months to go before the reveal, and I honestly didn’t know if I could trust Zach to keep our secret that long. It was a shitty thing to ask of him – maybe even shittier than not telling him at all.

I decided a half-truth was better than a lie.

‘We’re entering the American Cybersecurity Competition. Seth and Mouse and I.’

Zach stared at me. ‘That’s … not what I was expecting,’ he finally said.

‘They invited me onto their team,’ I rushed to explain. ‘I didn’t tell you because I felt guilty, like it was a … a … I don’t know, betrayal. I thought you might get—’

‘Wow. The ACC,’ Zach breathed, and I heard the jealousy in his exhale. ‘Lucky you.’

‘I know. I know. It should be me and you going, not me and them, but—’

‘How long have you known?’

I covered my face with my hands. Keeping the website a secret was one thing, but not telling Zach about the competition seemed really silly now.

‘Two weeks,’ I said.

Zach crossed his arms and let out a little grunt of disgust. ‘Well, that explains a lot.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’

‘For … I don’t know. Entering without you?’

‘Well, that’s stupid,’ he said.

It was my turn to be speechless.

‘Why would you be sorry about that?’ Zach asked. ‘If they’d asked me, I’d have said yes too.’

When I finally found my voice, I said, ‘You would? I mean … you’re not mad?’

‘About you joining their team? No.’

I sensed a ‘but’ coming.

‘But …’

There it is.

‘You lying about it? Yeah, that part kind of pisses me off. Like I’m so sensitive I couldn’t handle it if you told me.’

‘No, that’s not what—’

‘Or I’m such a dick I’d be mad at you for doing it.’

‘No, I – shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was worried about.’

‘I mean, I’m totally jealous,’ Zach assured me. ‘But I don’t blame you.’

‘Well, next year, we’re entering together, you and me … and maybe Mouse. He’s a Java genius. I think you’ll like him.’

‘Where is the competition?’ Zach asked. ‘Don’t they hold it in a different city every year?’

‘Chicago,’ I said. ‘In June. Seth said his parents are going to drive us and pay for our hotel.’

Zach looked doubtful. ‘Uh-huh. And what’s your dad say about that?’

‘I haven’t exactly mentioned it yet.’

He laughed. ‘Good luck with that. Maybe I can take your spot on the team when he says no.’

We talked a little more about the ACC and a lot more about Isabel, and then we worked on our augmented reality app for the rest of the night. By the time I left Zach’s house, we were so back to normal that I almost forgot to feel guilty for not telling him about the website.

*

Persuading my friends to go to the concert had been easy. Persuading Dad to let me go was another story.

‘But it’s not even overnight,’ I said, my voice dangerously close to a whine. ‘It’s just up and back on Saturday.’

‘You mentioned camping,’ Dad said.

‘Other people will be camping. Not me.’

We were squared off across the kitchen island. Dad had only half listened to my request before shooting it down, and I’d had to remind him twice that he had already ungrounded me.

‘But you’ll be at some campsite?’ he said.

‘No, Dad, forget the camping. No one is camping, okay?’

‘I think camping would be a good experience for you. Spend some time outdoors, away from your computer. Unplug a little.’

‘Dad—’

‘I did Outward Bound around your age. It was the best—’

‘Dad!’

‘What?’

‘It’s just a concert. It’s just one Saturday.’

Dad squinted at me. ‘You sure this isn’t some computer convention you’re sneaking off to?’

I paused. Was there an insult in there? I had to be a pretty major loser if my own dad found it so unbelievable that I would go to a concert.

‘First of all,’ I said, ‘there’s really no such thing as a “computer convention.” Second of all, you can Google it. The Ravens. Saturday. Outside of Iowa City.’

‘I’m still not—’

‘Look, you’re always saying I need to expand my horizons … find more interests, right? Well, that’s what I’m doing. I bet they don’t even have Wi-Fi.’

‘Hmm.’ Dad twisted his lips in calculation. ‘And your driver is a boy named … Mouse?’

‘It’s a nickname.’

‘It’s disturbing.’

‘Oh for the love!’ Misty’s voice exploded from the doorway. ‘I can’t listen to you two bicker back and forth anymore. Let the kid go to the concert already.’

Kid? Me? She was one to talk.

But she was taking my side, in her own way, so I kept my trap shut for the moment.

It took about ten seconds for Misty to do what I’d been trying to do for ten minutes, but she persuaded Dad to let me go. When he left the kitchen, I shoved my hands in my pockets and said a grudging ‘Thanks.’

‘Have you ever been to a concert?’ Misty asked.

I shook my head, a little embarrassed. Misty had probably been to a hundred concerts.

‘It’s a rite of passage,’ she said.

‘It’s just a concert.’

She smiled in this knowing way, like she was so much older and wiser. Gag.

‘You’re going with Zach?’ she asked. She circled the island to dig for something in the fridge. She’d been doing that a lot lately – as if she was searching for just the right food for us to bond over.

‘Yeah, Zach … and some other people.’

Misty emerged from the fridge with a slice of this store-bought chocolate cake she was obsessed with. It was kind of hypocritical the way she sugar-binged in between the healthy meals she made us choke down. She pulled two forks from a drawer and handed me one. ‘What other people? Your friends who were here the other day?’

‘Them and also … this girl.’

‘Isabel?’

Nosy.

‘Yeah.’

‘You don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to,’ she said.

Not falling for that reverse psychology.

But talking about Isabel had quickly become my favourite thing, so I forked a chunk of cake and spoke through a mouthful of chocolate. ‘She’s just this girl helping me with Spanish. Her family’s from Mexico, so she grew up speaking both.’

Misty nodded and said, extra-casual, ‘You know, if you wanted to impress a girl who speaks Spanish, you might say something like, “Veo la luz de las estrellas en tus ojos” … if you wanted to.’

‘If I wanted to,’ I repeated, looking away.

We both took a bite of cake and chewed quietly for a minute.

Then I tried out the words. ‘Vea la loose duh—’

‘Veo la luz de las estrellas en tus ojos.’

‘Sounds a little flowery.’

Misty waved her fork around. ‘So maybe something more like, “Me haces sonreîr”.’

I attempted to translate. ‘You make me …’

‘Smile.’

‘Right.’ I pulled out my phone. ‘Can you spell that?’

Misty dictated a few more compliments in Spanish, and I saved them all on my cell, trying not to seem too grateful. Two thank-yous in one day felt excessive, so when we finished, I just gave her a sharp nod as I put away my phone.

‘Cool.’

‘Cool,’ she echoed, the ghost of a smile on her lips.