I haven’t moved an inch, so Mrs. Fontaine wiggles her fingers upward. “Go on—stand up, Paisley. The National Tech Excellence scholarship is the most prestigious scholarship in your field, and it’s not one you’re given—it’s one you earn.”
I think she added that last part. She doesn’t want my classmates thinking the scholarship was handed to me because of my last name. But I don’t care what they think about me. I’ve had to don emotional armor made of tungsten since my first day of school when I smiled at two girls in my first-period class and they pretended I didn’t exist. Bailey and Aniston are their names. They still behave as if I’m a stranger.
I don’t remember rising to my feet, but I’m standing. My legs tremble as the clapping dies down. And just before it all ends, I turn, looking past Lyle. Hercules’s lidded gaze holds me captive, refusing to let go. I’ve never been boy crazy, but I’ve been fantasizing about him since the first time I saw him. In my made-up world, we’re the perfect couple. He’s such a good kisser, and his fingers stimulating my body always inspire a panty change.
The bell rings, and he rips his eyes away from mine, thereby releasing me. I can’t feel my legs while the other students move around me, collecting their backpacks and whooping because we’re finally free from high school. I plop back down into my seat, talking myself off the love cliff. I don’t want to read more into the fact that he was looking at me that way yet again. The only reason he paid me any attention at all on the last day of school is because Mrs. Fontaine made me the center of attention. Actually, he’s probably always looking at me because I stupidly look at him first.
And then my body goes stiff as fingers tap the top of my desk. First, I see his thighs, and then my eyes veer up to his gorgeous face. My mouth is caught open, and my breaths are craggy.
“Congratulations on AIT,” Hercules says.
I’m still staring at him stupidly.Say something, Paisley, damn it.
I start to say thank you, but he walks away before I can form the first of the two words. I want to drop my head on top of my desk and moan. I’m so embarrassed. Why couldn’t I say something?
And then, while beating myself up, I notice something. Everyone who remains in the classroom is watching me with surprise and shock. Oh, yes, there’s another reason why Hercules and I have never spoken to each other. His family and my family, for some unknown reason, are enemies.
* * *
Before I can make an escape,Mrs. Fontaine calls me to the front of the classroom to once again congratulate me on my scholarship. The cheers and jeers in the hallway are not as distracting as my wishing I could make it to my locker before Hercules has a chance to clean his out and then walk out of my life until tomorrow, which is graduation day. I want to say thank you to him for his well-wishes and even strike up a bigger conversation. Possibly, I could ask him what college he’ll be attending. That would be a great conversation starter.
My eyes keep darting away from Mrs. Fontaine’s moving lips and looking out the door. I wonder if she knows what university Hercules is going to. Maybe I should ask her. Or maybe not.
“One of those people is Benjamin Geoffrey, head of the Elite Programmer’s Society,” she says.
I can barely remember what she said before that. Something about her colleagues being excited about me starting at AIT this fall and that they’re well aware of my expert programming abilities. The entire school is aware of my programming skills. This January, I won the national CodeOrama competition. My initial project was one I named Killer Firewall. On one rare afternoon, when my mom was home, I demoed Killer Firewall for her.
Eyebrows ruffled, Mom asked, “You created this one hundred percent on your own?”
“Yes, of course I did,” I said, offended.
My mom’s eyes brightened. “Sweetheart, I only want to make sure no one else can claim proprietorship. You know how you’ve always wanted to make a product for Grove Industrial Technologies? Well, this is it.”
I took her through my steps, showing her how I’d made my software hostile toward attempted security breaches and any type of virus, known or not yet invented. If a hacker attacked my firewall, their entire hard drive would be drained. If they tried to upload malware onto my computer, their virus would turn on their system. I also showed her how I could even release a worm into the operating system of a hacker, which would collect pertinent system identification data and cordon it off to be used for a security-breach report. I came up with the idea after GIT suffered a hostile attack on Christmas Day last year.
My mom stood up straight and stretched her back. “I must admit, though, your software is quite ominous for a high school competition project.”
Some days later, I overheard her singing my praises to my dad but voicing concern that my Killer Firewall might be my way of protecting myself because I felt as though they didn’t protect me enough. My mom is always worried that she’s wounding me by working too much and focusing more on her career than on home. I don’t think she is. She’s my hero.
However, since GIT acquired Killer Firewall, I entered software I call the Curricula Crown into the competition instead. It’s a smart internet search engine that compiles and composes data on any micro or macro academic subject, and with one final click, it hands educational professionals a solid and comprehensive lesson plan. All the teachers at my school now use the software, and so do numerous other educational institutions, as it was also acquired and licensed by GIT. That’s the long reason why it was so easy for me to land the most coveted scholarship in the tech field. Every single teacher at my school wrote me a letter of recommendation, saying how my software transformed their classrooms and how they are so proud that I attend Dorset Miracle Academy. And this is probably another reason why I’ll never land in a romantic relationship with Hercules Valentine—I’m more than a nerd. I’m, like, a super nerd.
“I know it hasn’t been easy for you here at Dorset,” Mrs. Fontaine says.
Now she has my full attention.Has she really noticed how others have treated me?“I got through it.”
Her smile remains sympathetic as her eyes roam my face. “You’re quite a remarkable young lady, Paisley. I’m very honored to have been your teacher.”
I open my mouth to ask if she knows why everyone’s been treating me like a pariah. But instead, I say, “Thank you.”
She wishes me well, and I wish her the best too. I try not to run out of her classroom, as I’m emboldened now more than ever to finally catch up with Hercules and chitchat with him, even if all we talk about is the weather.
Free at last, I hurry past open lockers, stepping on papers that were tossed in the air and now litter the floor. It’s quieter than it was only minutes ago. One thing about New York City, compared to California, is that at the end of the school day, students don’t linger for long. In the city that never sleeps, life is always more exciting beyond the confines of the school’s gates.
Hercules is nowhere in sight, but my locker looms a short distance ahead. My steps slow when I see Greenly Hyde, a girl who wears her uniform skirt shorter and her blouse tighter than the rest of us, at her locker, which isn’t far from mine. And she’s not alone—her snobby friend, Donovan Milner, is with her. He’s frowning as if whatever she’s saying is making him miserable. But he always looks that way. I’ve concluded that Donovan, for whatever reason, is a very unhappy person. And the two of them are the last people I want to see before I abandon the halls of Dorset Beacham Academy, and my locker, for good.
I ignore Greenly and Donovan as I turn my lock. I can feel them watching me, though. If I could, I would just walk away and come back and get what’s inside tomorrow before our graduation ceremony. I don’t have much left inside it other than a graduation-day instruction pamphlet and my advanced statistics and economics textbooks.
“Smart girl,” Greenly says as I shove my books into my backpack.
