6. Accidentally Discovered Coding While Drunk
ACCIDENTALLY DISCOVERED CODING WHILE DRUNK
BEFORE
“So should we do introductions, life stories and shit?”
We’re meeting in the Lloyd dormitory lounge, right off an area Brody proudly introduced as Lower Crotch, and I can already tell this isn’t going to work. If we want to practice, and practice seriously, the Lloyd lounge is not the place to be.
In the five minutes we’ve been here, setting up our laptops and trying to get tables situated just so, three people have offered Brody beer, two have invited him to try different—but both fla-mazing—new video games, and one girl actually sat on Brody’s lap, whispering something in his ear and (I swear) sticking her hand briefly down his basketball shorts, in front of everyone and anyone who might be walking by, before laughing and saying in a breathless, flirty tone that makes her an OnlyFans shoo-in, “You sure?”
Lucas’s eyes, which mirror my shock/surprise though likely in a different ratio, meet mine briefly.
He clears his throat and his voice is tinged with embarrassment as he asks, “Girlfriend?”
“I don’t do girlfriends,” Brody answers, which only lowers my character assessment of Mr. Bro Dude, something I didn’t realize was possible. “But don’t worry, Emmaline’s not looking for a boyfriend.” He glances toward Lucas. “She asked if you’d like to join, afterward.”
Lucas turns a choke into an awkward cough and almost knocks over the chair. He takes out a half-finished work of origami, clearly a nervous tic, and closes his eyes briefly. “I have to work,” he answers finally.
Brody shrugs. “So, introductions?”
I point to Brody. “You’re Mr. Bro Dude, you love green drinks and the gym, must have accidentally discovered coding while drunk one day, and you’re majoring in pussy?”
Lucas half chokes again, but he recovers more quickly this time. “This is the team I put together,” he whispers under his breath, though it’s impossible to know whether it’s meant to reassure us or if he’s berating himself.
Brody lets out a bark of laughter. “Harsh. I’m actually a physics/math double because black holes are fucking awesome, and fun fact, Caltech was first to detect and record the noise from two black holes colliding.
And maybe that’s not always as awesome as pussy, but I wasn’t sure if I could even say shit like that in mixed company.
So thank you, Lorelai, for clearing that up for me.
” He punches me on the arm to let me know he’s kidding, and okay, he’s a bit of a dick, but he’s more golden retriever than Doberman.
I can work with this. “We sharing long-term goals too?”
Lucas nods slowly. “I think we’ll work better if we at least attempt to get to know one another.”
“You first,” I tell Brody. He’s clearly the best talker among us.
Brody gives an exaggerated shrug. “This science shit is a layover for me. I’m the youngest kid—in case you can’t tell from my attention-seeking antics—in a family that’s all law all the time, so I’m just here to smash atoms and blow shit up while I still can.”
“You’re prelaw at Caltech?” Lucas asks.
Brody makes a face that’s basically the nonverbal equivalent of Dude, disappointed in you. “No. There is no prelaw at Caltech. My parents said I could major in whatever the fuck I wanted as long as my GPA was high enough for T14 after.”
“T14?”
Lucas is pulling at the collar of his shirt, and it’s an effort not to roll my eyes as I answer for Brody. “Top fourteen law school.”
“Then why not go to UCLA? Or USC? Bigger parties, more, uh”—Lucas seems to talk himself through it, but then still decides against it—“girls.”
“I have a shit ton of friends at those schools. I’m always invited.
But thus far? Those parties have been a slightly drunker extension of our high school scene.
Caltech has geeky anime girls who can debate manga versus anime, who not only play video games but are—sometimes—into cosplay. It’s a totally untapped pool for me.”
“Lovely.” I shake my head, even though I’m not actually feeling judgmental. Seeing how quickly my (theoretically assigned to me because we’d be compatible even though in reality we’ve barely spoken) roommate goes through partners? Brody’s viewpoint isn’t exactly a minority one.
If anything, Lucas (who apparently can’t or won’t even say the word pussy) and I are the sexual outliers on campus. In that we don’t seem to be indulging in any multipronged partner swap.
Or attending parties.
Or have any visible traces of a life outside of school.
Oblivious to the way I’m psychoanalyzing him, Lucas goes back to Christopher’s email on potential icebreakers during our first team meeting, all of which were clearly stolen from an online HR exercise. “So your life goal is?”
“In a word? Fun. I’ve got to squeeze every second of joy out of my youth before I suit up and my sphincter tightens into a walnut.”
I can’t help but ask, “Why try out for ICPC? Not a lot of girls code.”
Brody slouches a little more, letting his legs open wide; he’s definitely that guy on the subway who takes up way too much space and doesn’t apologize.
“Problems are fun, worlds will be in Azerbaijan, and let me quote my mother here: ‘It’s just not where our circle vacations.’ So I figure it’ll be an interesting trip.
” He leans forward and stage-whispers, “My allowance is decent, but not nice enough to maintain my normal needs and first-class tickets plus the Four Seasons in Azerbaijan.”
“Azerbaijan’s in two years,” I can’t help but point out.
“This year is practice.” Brody shrugs, as if it’s a given that we’ll be qualifying.
“Also, you know they’re not putting us up at the Four Seasons, right?” I should shut up, I really should. But it’s just so fun to needle this guy.
“And only standard ticket fare will be reimbursed.” Lucas, too, has clearly read through the rules.
Brody’s smooth baby face falls for a moment before he recovers. “Yeah. Duh.”
Lucas and I both laugh at Brody’s crestfallen expression, and I can feel some of the tension leave my body. A man-whore who’s intellectually curious and likes to crack jokes? I can definitely work with this.
Lucas half raises a hand. “I’ll go next. I already said I’m a transfer student, which hopefully isn’t a problem for anyone here.”
“Why should it be?”
I’m not sure if Brody is actually this dense or if this is the bro/dude patented way of laughing it off to demonstrate it’s fine.
For every curve Lucas has broken, for every whispered damn I’ve heard about my new teammate, there’s been at least one whisper, sometimes more, about the fact that he’s a first-generation admit, that Caltech likes to give socioeconomically disadvantaged kids an edge in admission.
The implication, of course, is that Lucas wouldn’t have gotten in on his own.
Ridiculous.
Lucas waits a beat before continuing. “I live off campus, which means practicing at Lloyd or another, maybe quieter, dorm would be my preference.”
Brody looks surprised, but I try not to react.
All freshmen and most transfers live on campus.
Caltech guarantees housing for at least the first year.
Usually, exceptions are only made if there are serious financial constraints, something I thought about petitioning for and which I’m not sure Brody (with his talk of the Four Seasons and social circles) would understand.
“And you’re a computer science major, right?”
Lucas nods, and Brody is momentarily distracted by my question. “Booooooring.”
Lucas is quiet, and I can’t tell if he’s done or if his vocal cords are stuck on the loading screen. I shouldn’t care, and he’ll probably give an answer as flippant as Brody’s, but I decide to indulge my Lucas-specific curiosity. “And your life goal? I’m guessing kindergarten art teacher?”
Because yes, it’s been difficult not to notice the origami Lucas is often folding and unfolding before competitions, the paper he’s working even now between answers.
“It’s a focusing exercise. I get anxious in new situations.
And my life goal?” He puts the paper down and scratches at his beard before running his thumb along his lower lip, a detail I really shouldn’t be noticing.
“Security. I believe in, uh, girlfriends and eventually I want to be able to provide for my family, to be comfortable enough to have a couple kids, maybe a few fish.” He must see the face I make, but instead of being offended, Lucas again offers me that small, almost timid half smile, the one where his lips tilt up so little you have to be really paying attention to tell it’s there.
“Let me guess, you’re a cat person?” he says.
“In that they’re low maintenance, yes. If I ever really settle down, it’ll be judgmental felines I surround myself with. Not sure why anyone would choose carp as a pet.”
“I have a lot of allergies.”
“So your dream pet”—Brody points to me—“wants to eat Lucas’s for dinner. You’re basically the predator to his prey. That’s like a beautiful metaphor.”
“But also, since you used like, now it’s a beautiful simile.” At Brody’s disgusted look, I gesture to the library books spilling out of my bag, only half of which are math- and computer science–related. “I enjoy English.”
Might have even considered pursuing it as a major, if I lived a different life.
“Probably the most important thing I need to tell you guys is that if we qualify for nationals—”
“Good luck to us. Arjun and Xinzhe recruited Dmitry, so that’s now a fully stacked team of people with international medals.”
“Big if, I know, but if it happens, we’d need to schedule practices around my work.”
Both guys nod; it’s Lucas who asks, “And your one-word life goal?”
“Money.”
Brody rolls his eyes, and I pause him with one hand held up. “It’s easy to say fun when you already have money, but a big enough allowance gets you all the adventures you want and the security Lucas asked for. I wouldn’t have to schedule our sessions around Pizza Palace if I was a trust fund baby.”