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“Colton, welcome,” Mr. Bryant says with a smile. “Thank you for joining us.” He gestures to the empty desks in the room. “You can choose whatever seat is available.”
Colton picks a desk in the back. What’s he doing here? It’s odd for someone to join coding class in the middle of the semester. Especially someone who makes it seem like a knife is being held to his throat.
Mr. Bryant explains the assignment. It’s a program full of bugs that we need to fix. Just as I load the program, he says, “Oh, Colton. You need a partner. Let’s see…” His eyes rove over the students, eyebrows furrowing like it’s a major dilemma who to squish him with. Then his gaze lands on me. “Willow! You don’t have a partner. Colton, why don’t you partner up with Willow?”
My hand shoots in the air. “I work best alone, Mr. Bryant.”
“Willow, coding is a solitary activity, but there’s always something to learn from another person. And Colton is a little behind the other students, and I think you’re the perfect person to help him.”
Great. I never signed up for tutoring, especially to a popular kid who thinks the rest of the students are plebs who worship the ground he walks on.
Colton runs his fingers through his hair, disheveling it in a way that he thinks makes him look hot. Then he pushes a desk closer to mine and lowers himself on it, flashing me a smile, showing off his perfect white teeth. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
He launches the program and stares at the screen with creased eyebrows.
“You know how to code?” I ask.
“I have some knowledge, yeah.”
“Okay. At least that’s something.”
I start explaining what to do. We’re only a few minutes in when his phone buzzes. I assume he’s going to grab it and text back whichever one of his popular friends texted him, but he deposits it into his bag. Interesting.
And what’s even more interesting? He’s catching on to coding really quickly. Soon, he’s doing it all on his own and I’m left sitting there staring at him.
Sure, he has “some knowledge.” I bet the guy’s been coding for years. Who is he tryingnotto impress? And his expression is completely different from the one he had when he first came here. He made it seem like someone would decapitate him if he didn’t join the class, but now he has a kind of light in his eyes that’s super rare. I see it all the time on Chloe when she works on the school paper, and on Liam when he cooks. Mom claims I get the same expression when I code. It’s the look of someone doing something they love. Their passion.
But he seems to catch himself every so often and puts on a bored and somewhat disgusted face. Why is this dude pretending to hate it?
As though he feels me watching him, his eyes lift to mine. I tear my gaze away and focus on my app, since I already debugged the program ten minutes ago.
I don’t have the time or the patience to figure out what this guy’s deal is. Because the popular kids? They live in a different world. A world I have no interest being part of.
Chapter Six
Colton
Putting on an act that I’m completely useless in coding class makes me feel like such a fraud. But I tell myself over and over that it has to be this way. Once I’m done with high school, I won’t have to pretend anymore. But since I don’t want to go through what I went through in middle school, I’ll just deal.
My partner is still shocked that I’m catching on so quickly. But she’s smart and must figure I know a thing or two about coding. She doesn’t say anything, though. Which is a little surprising, since she seems like the type of person to not take crap from anyone.
We finish our assignment before the other kids. Willow looks at me, adjusting her glasses, shrugs, then does some other work on her laptop. She turns it away from me so I can’t see.
Getting the message that she wants privacy, I return to my desk, drumming my fingers on the table. I can work on my app for the coding competition, but I’m not ready for anyone to find out I’m entering. Gossip spreads quickly at Edenbury High.
I browse through the popular social media app, Spill It!. My friends love posting and it takes me the rest of the period to like and comment on their photos and videos. Since I’m in many of them, I study myself. I look happy. Happy as someone putting up a facade can be, I guess. Now that I’m really studying myself, I notice that my eyes are a bit hollow. Maybe after what happened to my family, I’ll never truly be happy.
Class is over and all my thoughts fly out the window. The kids gather their things and hand their assignments to Mr. Bryant. I walk up to his desk at the same time Willow does and we both stop before we collide with one another. I gesture for her to go ahead. She nods in thanks, places her assignment on Mr. Bryant’s desk, then leaves the room with that overstuffed backpack on her back.
After handing my work to the teacher, I chase after her, hiking my backpack strap up my arm before it drops to the floor.
“Willow?”
She turns around.
I grin at her. “Just wanted to thank you for helping me out back there.”
