Chapter 3
Chapter Three
The entire gym explodes with a loud ‘hissssss’ and students stomp their feet on the bleachers.
“Thanks, Principal Fisher, and hello, Vipers!” Holden says as he takes the mic and raises his fist in solidarity. The Viper hiss escalates for a moment more, then quiets when his fist turns into a raised hand. His command of the room is impressive.
“Ok, that was hot,” Jenna murmurs.
Holden continues. “It’s great to be back! I hope fried tater tots are still on the menu for Wednesdays. They are 100% of the reason I’m here today.”
A rumble of chuckles fills the room, and Holden flashes us a grin. His teeth are perfectly straight and bright white. Maybe he’s a model on top of being a CEO.
“I’ll be your tater tot.” Jenna mutters. My eyes roll. Hopefully her commentary doesn’t last the entire assembly.
“I work for a tiny, little company you may have heard of. You know… the one that makes the phones in your pockets and the tablets the school issues to each student. What you may not know is that we’ve been busy creating an exciting new feature that we are eager to test on a larger group than we have back at the office.
So I thought, why not bring it to Valley Prep and the two thousand wonderful students here? ”
Some kids in the crowd whoop, which seems ridiculous to me when we don’t even know what this man is talking about.
I, for one, will be withholding my endorsement until more details are given.
This could be an infomercial meant to get Valley Prep parents to write bigger checks, which would explain why they sent this male model to do the pitch.
Jake’s fingers dust across my cheek when he reaches forward to gently guide my chin up to tilt my head.
Tingles shoot down my spine when he gathers the bulk of my hair in both hands and runs his fingers through it, detangling it carefully before he parts a section of hair at the front of my head.
Although Jenna can be rough sometimes when she braids, Jake is always gentle.
I relax and enjoy the feeling of his hands in my hair.
“Do you ever feel like meaningful connection is still hard to find, despite how connected we are online?” Holden says, striding confidently around the gym floor.
Under the gym lights, his hair shines like glossy, black feathers.
“Well, we have found a solution to that problem. We’ve created Connection Services.
It’s a revolutionary AI-based service that uses all the data our devices collect about us, which—let’s be honest—between our smart watches, phones, and online shopping habits—is everything.
The AI uses that information to create a unique profile for you, without sharing any of your personal data, to connect you with individuals you are most compatible with.
This is all done anonymously. Your screen name will be a randomly assigned number that cannot be changed.
There is no profile to fill out or pictures to upload.
The interface is strictly text only, giving you an opportunity to connect without preconceived ideas about the other person or societal baggage to hold against them. ”
By now Jake has reached the crown of my head, and his fingers trace the shell of my ear as he scoops another section of hair. He pauses a moment to lightly tug on my earlobe in a way that feels playful and totally Jake.
“I know what you’re thinking—do we need another online dating service?
No, we don’t, but that’s not what this is.
Connections are not based on romantic interest. Its goal is to find connections on the deepest level.
The people you are connected with could be your new best friend, your much-needed mentor, or yes, possibly the greatest love of your life. ”
The gym erupts with another round of whoops and a spattering of clapping.
Ridiculous! Teenagers wouldn’t know true love if it slapped them across the face.
Except Braden and me, of course. We didn’t find each other through some impersonal algorithm—we started as best friends and moved into love organically, the way it should be done.
“His beautiful behind better be on there because I feel in my soul he’s my true love,” Jenna says while turning towards me. Her eyebrow arches in question when she finally notices her little brother braiding my hair, but I shrug noncommittally in response and she turns back to the stage.
“This is where Valley Prep comes into play. We are very confident in our software, but we need to test it on a larger audience before we roll it out into the world.” Holden glances at Principal Fisher, who nods at him.
“Your school-issued tablets will be handed out in your second period class today. They’ve already been updated overnight in preparation.
You’ll see a notification on the home screen asking you if you want to turn on Connection Services in your settings.
If you’d like to participate, simply swipe on the notification and toggle Connection Services to ‘on.’ Participation is not compulsory, but highly encouraged and appreciated as we run this beta test. Thank you for inviting me here today to share this with you. ”
The student body applauds again, and the sound of chattering surrounds me.
Some girls nearby are already whispering about turning the app on immediately.
But why? It’s not clear what benefit this will give us.
Do students trying to get into elite colleges need to waste their time helping some corporation make more money?
Absolutely not. My hands stay in my lap; maybe it’s rude not to clap after someone presents, but I do not endorse this beta test on our campus.
Principal Fisher takes over the microphone once again to issue warnings about messaging during class time, but her voice barely registers.
My thoughts pivot from what’s going on around me to Jake’s hands carding through my tresses.
They feel so large, so warm. So comfortable?
And oddly soothing. He finally finishes the braid and tugs on the end.
His hands land on my shoulders, his thumbs tracing vertical strokes along my neck while the assembly comes to a close.
Guilt flickers—but I'm relaxed. Besides, Jake is a close family friend, and he doesn’t mean anything by it.
The gym fills with music and the loud thumping of thousands of kids descending the bleachers.
I avoid eye contact with Jake, but he feels close on my heels while I walk beside Jenna.
We finally make it outside and I breathe in the warm California air.
Jenna tells me she’ll see me at lunch and we all part ways, scurrying to our next classes.
Analiese Price. That manipulative, conniving bottom-dweller.
That description isn’t harsh; it’s the cold, hard truth.
She’s earned it. That menace has been out to ruin my life since sixth grade, despite my complete innocence.
The only thing I could possibly be accused of is being better than her at everything.
It’s not like it was done out of spite; I’m just dedicated and disciplined.
And now I’m staring at her insufferable face in my AP Lit class. Why couldn’t we have been in different periods? If I never cross paths with her, my life is peaceful. Is it so much to ask that I never see her?
The teacher hands out our school-issued tablets, but I’m too distracted by Analiese’s nasally voice—loudly telling her seat neighbor she’s going to be valedictorian this year—to bother turning on Connection Services.
Not that I was going to. The excitement about it among the other students is vibrating through the air, but how can anyone be excited about anything with Analiese present?
Also, there’s no way she’s going to be valedictorian.
That’s on my vision board, and it’s going to happen.
I’ll simply have to do my best to ignore her existence in this class.
As if she had the same thought, her dark, almond-shaped eyes flick over me dismissively.
Ugh! If either of us should be holding a grudge, it should be me.
It all started with the 6th grade science fair.
I’d set up a display to show off a chemical reaction that resulted in a fire snake growing from a plate.
I’d practiced it dozens of times at home without a hitch.
But that day everything went horrifically, horribly wrong.
My entire booth caught on fire in an instant, forcing the entire building to evacuate and the fire department to show up.
Needless to say, I did not win any awards.
Analiese did something to my ingredients—I'll never prove it, but the self-satisfied smirk she flashed my way while we stood outside waiting for the firefighters told me everything I needed to know.
The memory of the blaring alarm and the smoke stinging my eyes while I tried to hold myself together upsets me every time I remember it.
For the record, it's not a coincidence that shortly before the science fair was the first time Braden kissed me at the school dance.
It was a peck on the cheek, but it was still one of the best moments of my life.
I'd felt so cool at the time—my brand new boyfriend (a recent upgrade from his previous status of 'best friend') came with me to the sixth grade dance and kissed me!
Analiese had always had a crush on him, and she never forgave me for it.
Analiese’s judgmental eyes seem to follow me for the next couple of class periods, despite my best efforts to shove thoughts of her out of my brain.
Only one more class before lunch—AP Calculus.
I snag a seat right in the front, but to the side, like usual.
It’s the ideal seat. It shows your teacher your eagerness to learn by sitting up front, but the side seat means fewer distractions and a quick exit out the door for the next period.
It’s a tip Braden gave me a couple years ago and now I live by it.
While grabbing my textbook and pulling out a beautiful, fresh notebook (labeled and color-coded appropriately) I feel a familiar presence drop into the seat behind me. Then a small tug on my braid.
Jake's bright blue eyes and crooked half-grin greet me when I turn. “Jake? You’re not in this class.”
His smile broadens, causing the second dimple to join the first. “Yes, I am.”
My brow furrows as I turn sideways in my seat towards him. “You’re a sophomore. This is AP Calculus.”
He nods. “Yes, and I took pre-calc last year. But I’m not a sophomore. I’m a junior.”
My head shakes. Jake has always been two years behind Jenna and me in school.
It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.
I distinctly remember Jake starting kindergarten when Jenna and I were in second grade.
He’d been a terrified mess, sniffling and sobbing.
We’d flanked him, both holding one of his hands, when we walked to the school entrance.
He’d turned to me and asked, Will you be at school all day too, Avery?
Only when I’d confirmed that, yes, I’d also be at school all day, did he finally muster up the courage to stop crying and cross the threshold.
“Is this a joke?”
Jake keeps grinning like he finds my confusion highly amusing. “Nope. I skipped a grade.”
A million more questions run through my head—like when? Why? How? And why did Jenna never mention that?—but he changes the subject before I can launch my inquisition.
He gestures towards my tablet on my lap. “Have you turned on Connection Services yet?” He leans forward and snatches the device in a flash.
“What the heck, Jake! Give that back.” I reach for it, but he swings it away from me and swipes at the screen, which I already unlocked in preparation for class.
“There,” he says, handing it back seconds later like he’s proud of himself. “Now your future awaits.”
Frustration mounts. I didn’t want Connection Services, and I certainly don’t need Jake’s antics distracting me from the most important school year of my life.
“You can’t mess with my stuff, Jake. It’s rude.” When he still looks amused, I add, “And immature. Maybe you should go back down a grade.”
The smirk drains from his face and I pivot towards the front of the class, satisfied. The teacher shushes the class and begins to explain the syllabus. With a quick swipe, the tablet locks. Connection Services is an unneeded distraction that I fully intend on ignoring.
After class, Jake walks with me to my locker but doesn’t say anything.
I act like he’s not there, confused by his sudden, near-constant presence today.
Since he started high school a couple of years ago, we’ve never really interacted much while on campus.
Occasionally, he’d still hang out with Jenna and me at their house, but even that had been less frequent.
It’s not that he’s bothering me exactly, but it’s… noticeably different.
My phone buzzes with a text. Braden!
He sent me a picture of his dorm room. It’s plain, but impeccably organized. Of course it would be—it’s Braden. For a moment, I forget Jake is right next to me, and my fingers start flying over the screen, gushing over his MIT dorm room in a reply.
“So you and Braden are still a thing, huh?” he says.
“Of course. We’re soulmates.”
“Soulmates? Wow.” It’s clear from his flat tone that he doesn’t believe me, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t need Jake’s approval. He doesn’t even have a driver’s license yet! Or does he? I guess I haven’t kept up with Jake’s life.
I tap on the picture Braden sent me and zoom in on it, taking in all the details so I can give him specific compliments in my reply.
His desk has a small lamp that casts a warm glow over the surface, which is adorned with notebooks, pencils, and a laptop in neat lines.
His bed is made with near military precision.
The navy bedspread and coordinating pillows look clean and comfortable.
“That room looks fake.”
Confused, I look up at Jake. “What do you mean by ‘fake’? How can a room be fake?”
“You know, staged or whatever. Like the rooms you see in college catalogs or something. Like, look there,” he explains as he points with one finger. “Who keeps perfectly sharpened number two pencils lined up neatly on their desk like that?”
A frown tugs at my lips as I study the picture. “It’s probably because they take those pictures in the rooms of perfect students, and Braden is a perfect student.”
After a beat, Jake shrugs. He tugs on the end of my braid teasingly one last time, then walks away. I shake my head and turn to my locker, stuffing everything I don’t need inside and pulling out my lunch. The screen of my tablet lights up with a notification.
You have a new Connection!