adaleo.txt

Characters

Main:
* Ada
* Ada's mom
* Ada's dad
* Leo
* Mr. Scott Hickenlooper

Classmates:
* Evangeline - headstrong, inattentive
* Kenny - self-conscious
* K.C. - creative, erudite, nonbinary
* Phaedra - straightedge?
* Pradeep - fey, flamboyant
* Gaby?
* Sumit - quiet, nerdy boy who is usually reading a book during class
* Marco - Leo's friend, shallow and rude
* Sasha
* Lyra - too smart and clever, always misunderstood. Me, Lisa Simpson... but unfailingly optimistic, not cynical
* Annie
* Kailynne

School staff:
* Ms. Dawkins or Ms. Henri - principal
* Ms. Barkle - teacher
* Ms. Krebke - teacher
* Ms. Tavares - teacher
* Ms. Hartley - teacher
* Ms. Lashley - secretary, sweet to Ada
* Tashauna - art teacher, wise and one with the earth

Other:
* Ada's sister, Nicole
* Peter and Henry, Hickenlooper's kids
* Mary, Hickenlooper's wife
* School is called Bob Moses Elementary






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To file:

Sumit saves the day quietly at end -- turns out he was always paying attention!



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Chapter: algorithms

Ms. Krebke wrote a word on the whiteboard: "algorithm". "Who knows what this is?" she asked, turning to face the class.

Ada knew, of course. She had known since she was a little kid, and so had her sister; their mom practically wouldn't shut up about them. At least, that was true when they were younger. She didn't talk to Ada much about her work these days.

The class was silent. "Anybody?" Ms. Krebke asked. Finally, she looked over at Ada, and Ada caught her look and nodded slightly. "Ada," she asked energetically, "could you help us out?"

"Well," Ada began, "an algorithm is basically a sequence of steps that you take to do something. But it can have logic in it, like... do this part ten times, or if the door is still open, then go back to step two."

"Okay," Ms. Krebke said, turning back to the whiteboard to write. "I'm hearing some key words. Who can shout them out?"

"Steps," said Pradeep, and Ms. Krebke wrote "steps" on the board.

"Logic," said K.C. 

"Door," said a low voice, and the class laughed. Ada looked over. Leo had his head down, his face hidden in his folded arms. He glanced up at Kenny and smirked. 

Ms. Krebke rolled her eyes. "What do we think of 'door' as a keyword, class?" There were giggles. "Maybe that's more of what we just call a 'word', Leo. What else?" That was what Ada liked about Ms. Krebke. She wasn't the most clever teacher. But she had a sense of humor, and she could tell the difference between a student maliciously disrupting class, and when it was more well-intentioned. Because of course, Leo's deliberately incorrect answer meant that he was, in fact, paying attention. Even though, for whatever reason, he wanted to show off like he wasn't.

"So," Ms. Krebke was asking, "where in our lives do we see algorithms operating?"

"Like, traffic lights?" Phaedra offered. "Red, then yellow, then green?"

"You don't drive much, do you?" came Leo's voice again, and most of the class laughed. But Ada saw Phaedra blush and tense up. Now that contribution by Leo, she did /not/ like.

"Actually," Ada spoke up, "that sequence of lights is a useful example. Because it's just a matter of how the algorithm is programmed into the control circuit that runs the light. We assume it's always green, then yellow, then red. Machines can be programmed to follow in any pattern--whatever algorithm you write, that's what they'll do. They don't stop to check what algorithm you meant to write. That's why a climate of--" and here she over-enunciated the word--"/blameless/ error-checking is important for programmers." Leo raised his head up halfway, and looked over at Ada with slightly narrowed eyes. Ada looked right back, and locked eyes with him, as she coolly said, "A climate where we're afraid to make a mistake is poisonous."

There was an uneasy silence in the room, but Ms. Krebke cleared her throat and pushed on. "Where else in our day to day lives do we see algorithms?" she asked.

The question hung in the air, and Ada looked around the room. K.C. and Meera were fiddling with something surreptitiously under K.C.'s desk, and Ada saw that it was a folded paper fortune teller. K.C. caught Ada looking at them, and flashed a slightly rude "what?!" expression back.

Ada sat up straight in her seat and raised her hand. "Would a fortune teller count?" she called out. "I mean, the kind we fold, and write things in?"

Ms. Krebke smiled. "Definitely. So, what would be the first step?" She looked at Ada, then followed her eyes. She gave a little laugh. "K.C. and Meera, do you have thoughts on this?"

K.C. and Meera looked up in surprise. Meera spoke up. "I'm sorry Ms. Krebke, could you repeat the question?" Ada rolled her eyes. She wished Meera would just say, plainly, that she hadn't been paying attention.

"A fortune teller," Ms. Krebke explained with a smile, "like the one I believe and K.C. have over there—what would be the first step in using it?

K.C. and Meera looked at each other. K.C. began, "Well, you look at the numbers on the outside, and pick one."

Ms. Krebke wrote on the whiteboard:

    1. choose a number on the outside

"And then?"

K.C. continued, "Then you... sort of..." she frowned. "You do this!" and she demonstrated with the fortune teller she had, opening and closing it rapidly, and counting up to 9.

Ms. Krebke let her finish. "What if you had to put that into words? How would you describe it clearly, so that someone who hasn't seen your demonstration will know how to do it?

K.C. chewed her lip. "I guess... I could say, split the sides horizontally. Then bring the sides back together. Then split the sides vertically. Then repeat."

Ms. Krebke wrote these steps on the board:

    1. choose a number on the outside
    2. repeat:
        a. split the sides horizontally
	b. bring the sides back together
	c. split the sides vertically

"What do you think, class?" Ms. Krebke asked. "Will this work, if we try it?"

K.C. fiddled with the fortune teller, and a few other students mimed using a fortune teller with their fingers, imagining one there. Kenny even started to fold himself one.

"Nope!" shouted Leo, his head still down.

Ms. Krebke took a deep breath and let it out. "Do you care to elaborate on that, Leo?"

"Not really," Leo replied, and Marco let out a loud choking laugh.

"Why doesn't this work?" Ms. Krebke asked. "Shouldn't we split the sides horizontally, then bring the sides back together, then split the sides vertically?"

"But then you have to repeat it," came Leo's voice.

"Ooooohhhh", Evangeline let out slowly. "After we split the sides vertically, the next thing we'll do is start over and split the sides horizontally again."

"Yes, yes," Pradeep called out. "We're not ready to split the sides horizontally again. First we have to bring the sides back together."

Ms Krebke snapped her fingers in celebration. "I'm loving how you are all exploring this by building on each others' ideas. Does anyone want to fix our set of steps?"

"Algorithm", came Leo's voice. His head was still down on his desk.

"Huh?" asked Phaedra.

"An algorithm," Ada spoke up to explain, "is just a series of steps. It's written in plain language. It's like a computer program, but just for people to understand, not, like..." She was suddenly aware of most of her classmates looking at her. She swallowed. "Not like, actually something a computer could run." She looked at Ms. Krebke, who looked pleaseantly surprised, and then back to her classmates. "What?" Ada asked, shifting in her chair. "I know stuff about computers. It's not a big deal."

"Oh Ada," Ms. Krebke said, "It is /such/ a big deal, actually." Ada rolled her eyes. She liked Ms. Krebke, but sometimes she pulled condescending nonsense like this. "And," Ms. Krebke continued as she turned to write on the board, "Ada's definition of an algorithm is right-on. An algorithm is just a series of steps, written in plain language."

"Hey algorithm," Leo called from across the room, looking at Ada with eyes that struck her as uncaring. "Should I fix you?" Marco snorted. Leo unfolded himself and sauntered to the front of the room, picked up the eraser in one hand and a dry erase marker in the other, and changed the instructions to:

    1. choose a number on the outside, call it X
    2. repeat X times:
        a. split the sides horizontally
	b. bring the sides back together
	c. split the sides vertically
	d. bring the sides back together
    3. look at the choices, and choose one
    4. open it up and read your fortune

Leo re-capped the marker, flipped it so it spun as it returned to the ledge at the bottom of the whiteboard, and ran back to his seat in simulated slow motion, as if winning a race. He slapped five with everyone in the row as he passed them. Ada rolled her eyes.

Ms. Krebke began to say something about appreciating Leo's proposal, but Ada cut her off. "It's wrong!" she cried.


[CONTINUE HERE; algorithm needs to alternate between horiz and vert, able to stop at either.]



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When Ada got home, she made herself a bowl of cereal, then ate it as she read one of the magazines her parents subscribed to. She was in the middle of an article on new types of digital art when her mind began to drift. She knew that her mother was home -- she always seemed to be home, almost always in her bedroom with the lights off. Ada felt a pang of tightness in her chest. She got up suddenly, with a sense of determination, and marched over to her parents' bedroom door. She meant to knock loudly, and to demand that her mother tell her--something. Ada wasn't sure what, exactly. But instead, she knocked gently. Hearing no answer, she slowly opened the door, and called out "Mom?" in a tone so timid and soft, she almost didn't recognize her own voice.

Her mom didn't answer. Ada heard her breath quicken.

"Mom," she started, "I'm not sure if you're awake, or asleep." Still no answer.

"I spoke a lot in class today," she said. "You would have been proud of me, I think. A boy--a stupid boy--he was making fun of someone. And I stood up for her."

Ada stood at the door for a bit, listening. Then she continued.

"I shouldn't call him stupid. He's--" Ada paused. "I think he's actually, really not. That's what makes me mad. He could be different. He could contribute, support people, support other people in the class, you know? I don't know why some people act like that. Like they're too good to help, like being helpful and... and honest, or eager to help, like those wouldn't be cool."

She took a deep breath, then turned to leave. That's when her mother did speak, finally.

"Ada," her mother said, and Ada was struck, as she always was, by the texture of her mom's voice. It was gentle on the surface, but firm and strong underneath, like a hardwood tree, or soapstone. In contrast, Ada's own voice sounded to herself so thin, so insubstantial.

"Ada," her mother continued, "I am so proud of you. Your classmates are lucky to have you."

Ada felt her throat tighten. She didn't want to sound like she was going to cry, but when she spoke, it sounded like a croak: "Thanks, mom." She felt tears coming, and didn't know why. She pulled the door closed.

But her mom had one more thing to say. "And Ada," she called through the door, "remember, you don't know what anyone's going through until you get to know them. Don't give up on that boy."

What!? Ada hadn't expected her mom to scold her about that. "You don't know what you're talking about," she whispered at the door. She felt furious, as she wiped her eyes. Where had her tears come from? Where had this anger come from? It was an uncomfortable, awful, awkward feeling to have such strong emotions come over her, and to feel at their mercy, and not in control of them.

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Chapter: Mailbot


The mailbot sat, waiting to be given its payload: the single-page flyers about the upcoming arts fair, three of while were supposed to be delivered to each classroom. 

"Here we are," said Ms. Tavares, and held out the stack of bright blue and black paper to Ada. Ada took it; the pages were still warm from the copier, and they had that smell that freshly printed copy paper had, a bit of warmed wood and glue, with a static scent on top of it, like you might smell during a thunderstorm.

Someone whooped jokingly, and Ada felt everyone's eyes on her. She was proud that she had spearheaded this project. But she also felt a bit guilty. 

Ada took a breath, then said "Thanks y'all, but it's Kenny who's got to do the honors. It was his idea." She turned to him; he looked at her sideways, acting vaguely annoyed and certainly distracted. "Hey, for all the ways this guy gives me grief, it was he first sketched the bot (during Spanish class, I might add)." Kenny let a little smirk show on his lips. Ada felt heartened, and continued. "And Kenny did something else, something that must have taken swallowing his pride: he brought the idea to me. That took vulnerability." She handed him the stack.

"Entrust," Kenny mumbled. Ada looked at him quizzically. "And trust," he said again, louder, eyebrows raised, and Ada realized she had misheard him. "You know," he explained, "I had to trust you wouldn't..." he shrugged. "You know."

Ada laughed. Where had this side of Kenny been? "Sure. For all you knew, I was going to laugh you out of the room."

Kenny nodded. "And notice something stupid about the idea. Something obvious. To you, obvious."

They looked at each other. This was such a surprise. After a beat, Ada said, "Shall we?" Kenny loaded the paper in the hopper, pressed the activate button, and everyone cheered and whooped.

The mailbot raced into the hallway, crossed it, and promptly ran straight into the door of Ms. Hartley's classroom. 

Kenny froze. Leo put his palm to his face. Ms. Tavares called out from behind the students, "Tell me you guys tested with the doors closed."

Leo sighed. "We were always working on it afterschool -- the janitors just have all the doors open!"

Kenny looked deflated. "All that work for nothing."

Ada scrunched up her face, exaggerating that she was taken aback. "For nothing? For NOTHING? K, this is just the beginning." She could hear her father's voice in her words; oh my god, was she really becoming just like her dad? "We're going to take this obstacle, and use it to make Mailbot smarter. And this isn't going to be the only one. It's obstacles that make engineering matter."

Kenny looked unconvinced. "I just want something that works the first time. I thought it would just work. Why'd we even do this test right now?"

Ada nodded. "Because if we just build it and don't test it in the field, it's fragile. It's not good engineering. It's not real."

Kenney kicked a spot on the floor with his sneaker, a spot where a nail head stuck up a fraction of an inch. "I guess it's good to know we need our training set to be wider." Ada nodded. "Different times of day," Kenny continued. "Sometimes with kids around, sometimes not. Doors open, doors closed."

"Some lights on, some lights off," Ada replied.

Kenny was starting to grin. "And you know what else?"

"Tell me," said Ada.

"We'll need to mess with the mailbot itself. Fog up its camera lenses. Turn it around suddenly."

Ada was grinning and nodding.

"What?" Kenny asked, frowning.

"No," Ada said, "I'm just psyched to see you like this again. I knew you wouldn't mope for long." She affectionately punched him on the shoulder.

Kenny nodded and stared sideways for a few moments. "It's exciting, actually," he said. "I think we might be able to show Mailbot a diverse enough set of stituations that it might be able to handle... well, just about anything. That's pretty cool."

"Yes, Kenny" Ada said, laughing warmly, "That's pretty cool."

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> Ada and Phaedra investigate random forests, get accused of stealing book


"How about this one?" Phaedra called from around the corner. Ada looked up to see her coming around the corner of the bookshelves, carrying a massive textbook that looked like it would topple her over. With a huff, she dropped it on the table in front of Ada. It kicked up clouds of dust that went spinning off to either side.

Ada looked at the title: Artificial Intelligence and Knowledge Modeling. On the front was a set of branching lines, which started as a single, thick white at the top of the cover and split again and again into what seemed like hundreds of thin lines at the bottom. Some sort of metaphor for all the different choices an AI program made, maybe? 

She flipped the book open and ran her finger down the table of contents, scanning it for—well, she wasn't quite sure. Then her eye caught on a subsection. "Bingo," she said, with a big nod.

Phaedra looked where she was pointing. "Choice refinement wizards?" she said aloud. She looked a few lines up to the chapter title. "Decision trees and random forests." She looked at Ada. "I don't get it."

"So," Ada started, "I don't totally know what any of this means. But 'choice refinement'—that sounds kind of like when you're at Sephora and they say, 'answer a few short questions to find the right shade for you', right?"

Phaedra chewed her lip. "I guess," she shrugged. "And wizards?"

"A wizard is an old 90s name for a sequence of questions," Ada explained. "My parents told me about them. They still have them, but they're just, like, web pages now. When computers started, you kind of had to know how to program to do anything. Then when they first started making graphics that could lay out what you're doing visually, people still didn't know what to do. You couldn't, like, put a bunch of choices in a dropdown menu, because people didn't know what a dropdown menu was. So they had to walk you through every decision, one at a time." She grimaced and turned her lips to one side. "I actually have no idea why they called that a 'wizard'."

They brought the book to the checkout desk. The librarian took one look at the book, and another at Ada and Phaedra. "Girls, this is a very advanced book. This is a..."—(and here she tapped the book hard with her finger, tapping on each word separately—"college-level textbook."

Phaedra and Ada looked at each other, then back at the librarian. Phaedra spoke up first. "We know." The words hung in the air; the librarian just stood there. Phaedra continued, stiffly, "Um, we would like to check the book out now."

The librarian let out a big sign, and said "Girls, you have got to be kidding me. No, you may not check this book out. I know what you're doing."

Ada had been holding her tongue, but was starting to run out of patience. "Are you saying we're not allowed to take this book out? That it violates some rule—some written rule, that we agreed to when we signed up for our library cards?"

The librarian smiled. "I'm saying, this book is not for you to take out. It's a valuable book for our college-age borrowers."

"That doesn't make any sense," Phaedra said with a grimace of disbelief. "It's valuable for us too."

"No, it makes perfect sense," Ada had her eyes locked with the librarian, who finally looked away and began to fiddle with a staple remover on the tabletop. "She thinks we are going to steal it, and sell it online."

Phaedra smirked. "No she doesn't," she began with a laugh. "That's crazy." But then she looked at the librarian, and saw the look on her face. "Oh my god," Phaedra almost whispered, in a very different voice. "She does."


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> Elmer is forbidden to fix the broken computer room door

> write this; it will be revisited later

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> Leo's mom is sick


Ada stopped on the school steps. Leo was there, standing on the sidewalk, idly kicking a rock at the base of a tree. By the way he glanced her way and then looked anywhere else, she could tell he was waiting for her. She gathered her backpack, continued down the steps and turned onto the sidewalk.

He took a step to fall in behind her. She spun to face him. "What?!" Leo pursed his lips and looked away. "What is it? You're gonna make fun of my mom some more?" He still said nothing. Ada let out an exasperated gggrrruuuuhhhh!!!!!, turned, and resumed walking home.

After a block, she realized he was still following her. Fine. He could do what he wants; she didn't have to notice or care. They kept this up the whole mile home, Ada sneaking a glance here and there as she turned, frustrated at first to see him there, a block behind. But at one point, when she caught a glance and he wasn't there, she felt disappointed. That surprised her.

Finally, she got home, but didn't go in. Instead, she sat on her steps. Eventually, he turned the corner, stopped, then slowly walked over and sat down beside her.

"it didn't feel right to just go inside and cut the whole thing off. What--" Ada looked at him and tried to catch his eye. "--what are you doing? What was all this?"

"My mom," Leo started. He picked up a little rock and started making lines with it against her concrete steps, not a picture, just curved lines of lighter rock on darker.

"Your mom?" Ada was clearly going to have to do all of the work in this conversation. "Are you trying to tell me about your mom? Because you're trying to apologize?"


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Chapter: Arty the robot

(Note: needs writing out) Arty can recognize kids, they train it, but kid in wheelchair gets recognized as a bicicle. Kid frowns and goes away, Ada feels awful, apologizes, kid says he's used to it, actually it's useful to be reminded that these things aren't magic, they inherit whatever biases our world already has


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As the bell rang, the 5th grade students poured out of the school doors and into the playground and combination basketball court and soccer pitch. "Arty!" several of them shouted, running up to the robot the class had built and throwing their arms around it. 

"Oh Arty, I missed you so much," Pradeep said, feigning a dramatic swoon.

"Pradeep!" Arty said back, in a Scottish brogue. The students hadn't been able to decide on one voice for Arty to use—for one thing, it wasn't clear if Arty was like "Artie", a name usually given to boys, or "Arti", a name usually given to girls. Finally, the students had decided that Arty was just Arty, and had left it programmed to randomly select a voice each time it spoke.

"Pradeep," Arty continued, "yer speed commin over here was three miles per hour faster than policy allows. Ten demerits."

Pradeep blinked. Several other students stopped in their tracks, but Evangeline didn't hear, and raced by.

"Evaaaangeleeeenn," Arty called out, in a voice that she recognized as being similar to her cousin's, who lived on Long Island. She hated her cousin's voice, and she hated this one, too. "Ten demerits fah you too, hon. No runnin'."

"Arty, what happened to you?" K.C. asked, taking their hand from around Arty's shoulder. "Hey Ada, something happened to Arty. It's like Arty's been–"

Ada stepped up and finished K.C.'s sentence: "–reprogrammed. Arty can still recognize all of us, just like we programmed it. But instead of that being fun, it's being used against us."

K.C. exhaled loudly. "And I think we all know by whom." K.C.'s grammar was impeccable.

They turned towards Leo, who was sauntering over, seeing a crowd gather. "Leo, does your uncle still have that t-shirt printing business?"

Leo laughed. "I mean, he's like four businesses past that now, but yeah, all the equipment is still in his basement. Why?"

K.C. and Ada locked eyes. Ada started nodding. "Nice. Arty recognizes faces, right? And gives demerits to whoever is moving too fast?"

K.C. smirked. "It's whomever. And there's no reason the same face can't be on fifty t-shirts at once."

Leo blinked. "Sorry, what's going on?"

Ada answered, "It's time to hand out some demerits."


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> Ada's mom tries to explain why she left


Ada knocked softly on her mom's door. Sometimes she was already asleep by 9. Sometimes she was awake, but not in a mood to see people.

"Come!", came her voice, and Ada felt relief and warmth rush through her. She could tell from her mom's voice that this was a good night.

Ada opened the door to stick her head in, with a sheepish smile on her face. "I know it's late, ma, but can you brush my hair?"

Her mom chuckled and pulled the covers back in a neat triangle. "It is late. And yes, I can brush your hair. But then you've got to go to right to sleep."

She fetched the brush from her side table as Ada settled in on the floor, her back against the edge of the bed. "Do you know why I say 'Come!' like that?"

Ada rolled her eyes. "Oh my god, mom, yes, I know. I know about the TV show, I know grandma had a crush on that guy–"

Her mom feigned offense, as she took the ties out of Ada's hair. "'That guy'? That guy is captain J–"

Ada cut in. "I know his name! Or like, I don't know his name, but honestly, I don't care. It's your thing. I get it. Ow!" she scowled as the brush snagged. "And yes, I know the first show in the sixties had a Black actress, she was the first Black woman in space, well, TV space, anyway. Et cetera, et cetera–"

"–And do you know who said his family watched that show every single week, and how much it meant that–"

Ada groaned. "Martin Luther King. Yes, mom. I know."

Her mom paused, holding the brush aloft. "Well, if you are saying his name like that, then I'm not so sure what you know. Or who raised you." She'd meant it to sound kidding, but it didn't.

They were silent as she continued to brush. Ada finally spoke. "You should have seen my hair while you were gone." She laughed. "Daddy tried. He really tried."

Her mom was quiet, but then her chest convulsed in an unintentional, choking laugh. "I forgot. He had your—oh my god, he had all your hair gathered in one bunch at the top. With all the stragglers popping out at the sides..."

It was Ada's turn to feign offense, and she tsked. "OK, OK, that's enough! I am your own daughter!" They both laughed.

More silence; then her mom realized she was holding her breath. She exhaled, then said, "I missed you so much, Ada."

"Mom, don't–"

"I am so, so–"

Ada started to gather herself up. "Don't do this right now. Just do my hair"

"Ada, you have to know that I would never leave you if I didn't think it was absolutely necessary. What I sacrificed–"

Ada scrambled to her feet and walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind her. Her mom hated when she slammed it.


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> Ada drops by Leo's house and sympathizes

Ada rang the doorbell a second time, and counted to thirty. It sure seemed like no one was home. Didn't Leo know she was coming over? She looked around to see if their car was there, but it could be any of the cars parked in the street, and she couldn't remember if she'd seen Leo's parents driving around before. There was a walkway on one side of the house, though -- maybe they were in the back? 

Ada stepped gingerly down the path, feeling a bit like she shouldn't be there. Leo was cool, but you never know who has a racist uncle who will see a Black girl and treat her like she's there to steal something. She could feel herself tightening, poised to protect herself and stay strong if someone barked at her in a way that might be harsher than how they'd question someone else. And you never really know for sure, and if you feel hurt about that then you second-guess yourself... Ada shuddered, and tried to shake the energy out. She was just there looking for her friend.

"Leo," she called, loud and clear, making it obvious to anyone listening that she wasn't sneaking around. Behind his house, there was a smaller house—sort of a big shed, or a garage, except there wasn't room for a car to drive back here. "Leo?" she called, and knocked on the half open door. It was old, worn wood, with nine separate little panes of glass in it, one of them missing. She peeked inside, and saw tools—and remembered Leo talking about his dad's "workshop". Somehow, she had imagined a well-appointed, brightly lit, high ceilinged space, with his dad chipper and moving around efficiently. If this was his workshop, it was a monument to disorganization, with more things in a state of partial repair than she could count. Posters lined the wall, many of them covering other, older posters; she couldn't tell if some of them were ironic vintage, or, like, actually from the 1950s or whatever. One said "Visit Yugoslavia!". There were rusty cans, with rusty screwdrivers and files and awls, next to rusty vises, and rusty saws. There were books lined up against several walls, books stacked on their sides to hold up parts of chairs that maybe had once had glue drying. Some of the books were water-worn, and there was a strong moldy smell in the air. There were cans of what looked like washers, until she realized that they were mostly coins, with washers and screws and nails mixed in. 

Ada backed out and shut the door. Whatever, every parent was a bit of a mess. But seeing that made a bit more sense of Leo's reluctance to talk about his dad. It's not like Einstein had a neat desk, it's not like appearances are everything. But Leo had said his dad was a carpenter! And that looked like the workspace of someone who doesn't take care of themselves. And if not themselves, then how do they take care of their kid?

She turned to leave, but suddenly heard a car pull in at the front of the house. The doors opened, and she heard Leo's voice, and the voice of a woman--maybe his mother. Suddenly she felt out of place, and guilty. What would they think, seeing her there? Somehow, having seen Leo's dad's disordered workshop made her feel like she'd violated something. They were going in the front door now. She crouched down next to the back corner of Leo's house, waiting to hear the front door close.

"Watcha doin'?" came a small voice from above her. Ada jumped, and looked up. Through a screen window, a little girl, maybe 4 years old, was looking at her. The girl leaned her head forward and pressed her forehead and nose against the screen.

"Um, hi," Ada said, and waved stiffly. She didn't know what else to do or say.

"I can make my skin all bumpy like this," the girl said. "Watch!" Ada noticed that the screen was very stretched out and wrinkled, probably from previous times the girl had done this. She pressed even harder, and started bouncing against the screen.

"No," Ada said in confusion, "I don't think you should--"

SNAP! With a sound of wrenching tin, the screen's metal casing came loose from the window frame, and the whole thing popped forward, with the girl tumbling head-first after it. She shrieked and reached for the window frame with her hands, but her hands bumped into the screen mesh and her fingers closed around air. Instinctively, Ada formed her arms like a bucket and moved forward so she was right below the girl, whose head struck Ada's chest. As Ada's arms closed awkwardly around her inverted body, Ada's knees buckled, and they ended up in a heap on the weed-covered patio, with the wind knocked out of Ada.

Instantly, the girl began to cry hysterically, as Ada came to her senses. Frantically, she checked the girl all over for anything that seemed bloody or broken. But she could already tell by the crying that she was alright. As for Ada herself, her tailbone ached and her back had gotten a shock, but she was alright.

Then the back door burst open, and Leo's mom--Ada knew who she must be right away--came running out and scooped the girl up in her arms. "Maeve!" She cried, looking alternately at the girls and at Ada. "What the hell is going on?"

Ada sighed. "This," she said, getting to her feet gingerly, "is going to take some explaining. Do you have tea?"

============================================

> Leo's dad works on sculpture

Damon yawned and stretched, then slowly sat up in bed. He waited for his feet to adjust to a bit of his body weight, then stood up slowly and took a couple of steps, stretching his hips from side to side as he went. He gargled a little mouthwash, walked to the kitchen, hit the electric kettle, and put some ground coffee in the drip liner. 

He'd come back when the water had boiled to make the coffee. For now, it was sculpture-making time.

He rolled open the sliding door at the back of the house, and stepped outside into the cool late morning air. Bits of mist were still rising and burning off in the sunlight. He walked across his wooden back deck to his garage workshop. Would the piece look as jumbled and unpromising as he'd felt at the end of yesterday's work? He pulled the door open and pulled the light switch cord, and the shop sprang into view.

On the table was his self-portrait, a work in progress that started with a mismatched set of wood remnants that he had glued together, then sculpted with a router as though they were a single object. Now he was in the process of adorning it with sequins and tassels. This direction had surprised him, but it felt right, and omitting them seemed wrong. He tried not to think too much about his self-portraiture work, knowing that second-guessing would kill his creativity. Sequins and tassels it is, he thought, though the underlying structure could use some tweaking.

============================================

> Personal website

"Happy birthday!" Lyra shouted as the door opened.

Sumit walked in, blinking like he'd just woken up. He looked around, then behind him. Seeing no one else Lyra could be talking to, he asked, "Is it my birthday?"

"No," Kenny explained. "It's K.C.'s birthday. Lyra's just shouting that each time the door opens, in case it's K.C." He pointed to the smartboard, where a website was projected. It had "K.C." in huge letters, a list of K.C.'s favorite things, and a garish, brightly-colored background made up of thick zigzag chunks of color.

Sumit blinked some more. "Happy birthday!" Lyra squeaked as the door opened and Ada walked in. Ada looked puzzled, but Kenny caught her eye and shook his head.

"But--" Sumit began. "Happy birthday!" Lyra practically screamed, as Sasha walked in. Everyone looked at Lyra, who shrugged. "I decided to really believe that time," she explained.

Sumit looked confused, then sat down at his desk. "Lyra," he called softly. "Happy birthday!" she let out in a singsong voice, her arms spread wide, as Phaedra froze in the doorway in bewilderment. Sumit tried again. "Lyra, I don't think--"

"Happy birthday, K.C.!" Lyra shouted, as no one came in. "Just practicing," she answered the unasked question.

Sumit frowned, and looked around for help. He spotted Marco. Marco rolled his eyes.

"LYRA!!!!!!" Marco bellowed. Everyone jumped.

Lyra stared at him. "Oh my god, what??"

Marco gestured to Sumit, who cleared his throat. "Um," Sumit said quietly. "K.C. won't be here until lunchtime. They have a dentist appointment."

"Oh," Lyra said, and sat down. Oblivious to all the eyes on her, she wordlessly took out a sketchbook, started drawing in it, and began to whistle.

There was a long pause.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, K.C.!" Sumit roared, his eyes squeezed shut and his fists clenched. Then he relaxed and composed himself. He tilted his head towards Ada. "I just wanted to know what it feels like to say it," he shrugged.

=========================================

> Website has error because everything is kept in separate arrays

========================================

> Everyone thinks Kenny loves cats, because of the website error

"Kenny," Leo called as he waltzed into the the room, "my mom saw that you love cats, and she wanted to give you this mug cozy." He pulled a rubber cylinder out of his pocket, and held it out. It had cartoon cats on it, and the cats were drinking something hot out of mugs. Kenny eyed it warily. They said "I'll be PURRR-FECT... as soon as I've had my coffee!"

"Um, thanks," Kenny said uneasily. Kenny didn't drink coffee, being only 10. He basically never used mugs at all. 

Also, he didn't have cats. Or like cats. Kenny was allergic to cats.

Leo was still standing there, beaming. "Wow, thanks, Leo, um, for this gift," Kenny managed. Unsure what to do, he reached out and slowly took the mug cozy, realizing as his hand closed around it that there were actually two cozies. He looked around for a place to put them, and settled for his desk.

"No toys on your desk during class," Ms. Krebke said, not looking up, and turned and wrote "Kenny" on the board under "Warnings".

"Hey Kenny!" K.C. said as they rummaged through their backpack, "I knitted your cats a sweater." They pulled out an elaborate yarn object. "It has sleeves and booties, and a tail cover. Oh, and a hoodie and neck warmer." As far as Kenny could see, it was an entire knitted cat.

"Where does the cat, like, go in?" Kenny asked.

K.C. poked her finger in a nickel-sized opening where the mouth would be. "I guess it depends; how big are your cats?"

Kenny wasn't sure how to answer this. He didn't have any cats.

"Kenny," Ms. Krebke called out sternly, her back to the class, "Please leave your cats' used items at home. A student in this class is allergic to cats!" She underlined Kenny's name under "Warnings".

"How does she see--" Kenny started. He wanted to point out that he was the one allergic to cats, but he worried that would get him in further trouble.

"My mom says I can't keep my cat," Marco complained to Kenny, "just because he won too many fights." Kenny pondered this. "But she's OK with giving him to you, to add to your collection." He reached under his seat and patted a large plastic bin with a few breathing holes drilled in the top. He slid it slowly over to Kenny. "Oof!" Marco gasped. "It's heavy with the both of them!" Kenny said nothing. Marco saw that he needed explanation. "I think they're in love," Marco added helpfully.

============================================

> Ada plays Leo's choose your own adventure game


"I finished it!" Leo said breathlessly, flopping into his seat. "Well, not finished finished, but it's ready enough for you to play it."

Ada looked at him. "Um, not finished finished... what exactly?"

Leo threw his arms out incredulously. "Hello, the adventure game!" They stared at each other. "Okay," Leo continued, "now I'm realizing that I didn't exactly tell you I was working on it."

Ada rolled her eyes. "That is, in some circles, considered an important step before announcing to someone that you've finished something."

"Not finished finished—"

"NOT finished finished, I get it." Ada paused. "Well, so, when can I play it?"

"Ada and Leo," Ms. Barkle called from her desk. "This is not debate class!"

"We're not deba—" Ada cut herself off as Leo shook his head disapprovingly. 

"This afternoon!" Leo whispered.

---

Ada was stumped. She'd been trying Leo's choose-your-path-style text-based game, "Trapped on the Island", for two days now. After the first few games, where her ship went up in flames or was boarded by pirates, she figured out how to navigate past those possibilities, and made it to the main part of the game's story, where her ship crashed in the shallows near an unpopulated island, and she struggled to find a way to escape.

Leo had filled the game with countless dead ends and red herrings, which alternately frustrated Ada and delighted her. She found trees with bark that peeled off in thick, stringy strips, made rope from them, felled trees, and lashed them together to make a raft. She was sure this was her ticket off of the island, but every time she boarded her makeshift craft, she capsized in the thunderous waves that crashed against the island from every side. She spied a string of lights forming a path in the distance, and hacked her way through the island's jungle to get there, only to find that it was merely fireflies alighting on an old fallen log. She found a cave with tunnels and ancient wall art that seemed to hint at mysterious possibilities, but she died several times stumbling in the darkness into precipitous drops or swimming through underground lakes trying to find hidden ways back up to the surface.

She couldn't help but feel critical of Leo's game design, and told him so at school. "A good game isn't just hard in arbitrary ways," she explained. "Bowser could obviously stop Mario completely by just putting up a wall ten blocks high—that would be game over. But the game would suck." The implication hung in the air. For anyone else, Ada would never imply such a criticism. It was only because she respected Leo so much that she was willing to share her thoughts, as they were, without sugar-coating them or biting her tongue.

"Keep playing," was all he said. With a smile, which made her want, just a little bit, to punch him in the face.

---------------------

===================================================

When they got to Leo's house, Ada was surprised how quiet it was. He'd described it as bustling endlessly with all of his siblings and their friends, but everyone was away, and it was just the two of them.

They had been in an easy conversation for the whole walk from school, but stepping into the quiet house, things suddenly felt awkward.

"I guess nobody's home," Leo said. "I dunno, maybe my little brother has a recital thing and everyone went, or something."

Ada didn't know what to say, and just nodded.

"Um," Leo said, glancing around, "you want something to drink? Or like, chips and salsa?" He started to blush a little. He clearly didn't quite know what to do either.

"Yeah," Ada replied quickly, "some chips and salsa and water would be great."

Leo started to walk to the kitchen, and Ada followed. "We have coke, you know," he called back. "We have, like, infinite coke." He laughed. "Nobody here ever drinks just, like, water."

Ada smiled. "Coke, then?"

Leo poured two glasses of coke and handed one to Ada. They sipped it in silence for a moment, and then both started to talk at once.

"I'm sorry--" Leo began, just as Ada said "You know--". They both laughed, and Leo said, "You first."

Ada took another sip to buy time to think. Then one more sip. Then she took a deep breath. "When school started," she began, "I hated you." Leo was looking at her, and chewing his lip a bit. "I mean, it really seemed like you didn't care about anyone but yourself. You were so..." She looked away. "Obnoxious. And, like, on purpose. I just didn't get that."

"Okayyyy..." Leo muttered, frowning a bit.

Ada continued. "My point is not that you are obnoxious. It's that you're not obnoxious. Not really. You do care. You're not like I thought you were. You're not... you're not the person I think you were trying to act like you were."

Leo looked away, drained his coke, and put the glass work on the counter, a little too loud and hard. "So what's your point?"

"Hey," Ada exclaimed, putting her hands up in a shrug and taking a step back, "Why are you being such a jerk about this? I'm saying something appreciative about you. I'm telling you I get you, I get the real you, and I'm trying to ask you..."

"Ask me what?" Leo's frow was furrowed, and he was staring at the floor.

"Why you..." Ada threw up her hands. "Why you pull this bratty White boy bullshit!?"

"There it is," Leo said, nodding.

"Oh, fuck you," Ada said, wishing there weren't an audible choke in her voice.

They sat there for a minute, not talking. Ada sipped her coke and felt her throat relax, and her tears subside.

Leo was looking away, and fiddling with his cap. "I don't know," he finally said, not looking at Ada.

Ada raised her eyebrows and looked at him squarely. "You don't know... what?"

Leo looked at her and rolled his eyes. "I don't know why I pull that bratty White boy bullshit." He held her stare, and then they both suddenly burst into laughter. "I don't!" he said, laughing.

"I know you don't," Ada said through her hands as she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

"What's white about it, anyway?" Leo asked, still smiling, with his hands forward in a pleading gesture.

"I guess..." Ada began. "I mean, I don't know, it's like... that you do it without thinking that it'll matter. Like, you don't worry there will be any consequences for you. And your parents don't worry about it either."

"My mom is always telling me to take school more seriously," Leo objected. "And Marco does the same thing as me, and he's not white!"

"OK, maybe it's unfair of me to say it's white," Ada conceded. "But, I don't know, it's a thing. That kind of... entitlement is a thing. It just... there's a particular way it works with white people. With some white people. With some white boys."

"And you think that's not really me." 

"No, Leo," Ada said. They weren't laughing now. She looked him in the eye. "I think that's not really you. Some people don't care about their effect on others. They don't care how they act, so long as they're going to be alright."

"But I do."

Ada said nothing.

-------------------------------

> Ada plays Leo's game again, in frustration

Ada sat down at her computer in frustration. She didn't want to do homework. She didn't want to call a friend. She just wanted to be mad at Leo for a while.

She idly opened up his game. Stupid Leo. What was the point of this game, anyway? It was just a really, really complicated way to be a jerk.

She walked around the island, choosing the worst option whenever faced with a choice. She made a campfire—and made sure to do so in the woods, so that the fire started to spread and get out of control. But it started to rain, and the fire went out. She scowled. She just wanted to wreck something. 

She chased through the forest after a little furry creature like a rabbit, throwing stones at it, until she hit her head on a low tree trunk and passed out. When she came to, she was at the bottom of a ravine, and it was getting dark. She must have fallen after she hit her head, and lay there for a while. She shivered in the cold, now that the sun wasn't beating on her. She would need to find shelter, and fast, or else she'd be out in the forest all night, unable to see and unable to walk, unless she wanted to trip and hit her head again.

She stumbled around a bit, until her foot landed on a surface that felt surprisingly flat and firm. She pushed the leaves and branches away with her other foot, and found that the flat surface extended for some distance. Slowly, she followed it, and it led her further into the ravine, down several levels that seemed clearly to be stairs, if a bit rough and overgrown, until she reached a spot that she would have thought was just a natural hill covered in roots, if she didn't already suspect what it was: some sort of building. It even had an entrance, a pitch black, yawning mouth that seemed to have a faint, musty breeze of ice-cold air coming from it. 

Well, she wouldn't be warm inside there, but at least it would protect her from scavenging creatures in the night, that could come from any direction, biting her from below, above, and all around.

Unless, of course, it was the *home* of such a creature. 

================================================

> Sal the lizard
(before this: kids make jokes about what's behind the unused closet door that's nearly comletely hidden by books. is it the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe? Also, it will be important that Sal is an endangered species of lizard, that only eats termites, which the school has!)

Annie's birthday was coming up, and she was having dreams about lizards.

The lizards would swarm all over her neighborhood: up and down buildings, under and over cars, all along the wires that connected to her house. There were so many lizards, and they made everything thicker, coating it with a leathery blanket of writhing lizard bodies. She never realized just how many different wires connected to her house.

Sometimes, in her dreams, the lizards would form a pile in front of Annie, seeming to assemble a bigger shape. She would always wake up before the shape became clear, but each night, it got farther towards being recognizable. One the fourth night, it seemed to form a lumpy shape like a star. On the fifth night, the parts of the star took clearer form: arms and legs, a tail. On the sixth night, the top of the star became a head, with eyes and a mouth. Each of the eyes was a single, wriggling lizard. 

The eyes looked at Annie, and the mouth opened.

Annie bolted upright in bed, gasping and shivering. Was the mouth  going to say something? She looked at her feelings: disgust; fear; curiosity; excitement.

Annie weighed these against each other in her mind, feeling how strong each one was. She decided her curiosity outweighed her fear and disgust, so she closed her eyes, cleared her mind, slowly breathed until her body settled down, and slipped back into the dream.

The lizard made of lizards noticed that she was back and turned toward her. She reached out to it, reminding herself that her curiosity was greater than her fear. She wasn't sure what sort of touch a lizard made of lizards would like, but she stepped around to the side of it, where it could still see her, and slowly stroked it on the back with her fingertips. It was colder than she expected, but she remembered that lizards are cold-blooded; they don't have an internal source of warmth, like mammals do. The lizard's back rumbled and squirmed, the stubbly surface glinting here and there in an oily way. It felt on her hand like -- well, she didn't have words for what it felt like. It felt like it felt. She only knew she would never forget the feeling.

The creature opened its mouth. And it spoke, its voice sounding like rocks rubbing against dried banana peels:

"Happy birthday."

That was the last time for a while that Annie dreamed about lizards, but she found it hard to forget the dream. 

"Psst, Kailynne?" she asked her friend one day, sitting at the desk next to her.

"What is it?" Kailynne was done with her creative writing and had been drawing Yetis defending their mountain against hikers in the margins of her paper.

Annie paused. "When you have a dream... say, a weird one... where does that come from?"

Kailynne gave her a look; she only moved her eyebrow and mouth a little, but Annie could read it like a book. The look said, "You're going to have to tell me what you're talking about."

Annie took a deep breath and looked at the floor. "I keep having these bizarre dreams, all about... about--"

"Lizards?" Kailynne finished her sentence. Her face tightened, looking hard and cold.

Annie stared. "How did you know?"

Just then, the bell rang. The class began to line up to leave the room. Kailynne gathered her books and stood up. Annie sat, frozen in surprise, and then scrambled to catch up. "Kailynne!" she called after her. "How did you know?"

Kailynne looked uneasy. "I've been seeing something. I haven't known if it's real either." The class shuffled out the door. "Stay near the door," she whispered to Annie as they passed Mr. Maguire. "After we leave the room, stick around."

The last student left the room, and Mr. Maguire flicked the light switch and closed the door. "Hurry to math, kids," he told Annie and Kailynne as he passed them and started down the stairs. They watched him go, then hurried to the window in the door.

"What are we looking for?" Annie asked, confused. If they stood around doing nothing, they would soon be late for math -- and Annie hated the feeling of interrupting class and walking into the room with all eyes on her.

"Watch the lights," was all Kailynne said. They stood for a while, watching.

Annie glanced at the clock. She sighed loudly. This was ridiculous.

Kailynne turned to her and locked eyes. "I know this seems pointless. But think about how long you've known me: practically a year. Do I make things up?"

The question made Annie pause. "Sorry. You're right. I wasn't really being here with you." She took a deep breath and exhaled, shaking out her worry. "What are we looking--"

Annie stopped mid-sentence. The lights had clicked on again.

"There!" Kailynne whispered sharply, pointing to the far corner of the classroom, where there was a stack of bins in front of a closet door they never used.

Annie saw movement near the floor, too fast to make out what it was. "Maybe there's a mouse," she wondered. "Maybe the lights are using a motion detector."

Kailynne nodded. "I wondered the same thing. But watch this." She opened the door and flipped the light switch off again. The room was dark -- not very dark, because there was sunlight through the half-shaded windows, but it was dark enough for the room to feel abandoned, forgotten. It was a feeling that Annie realized she knew well, from other times she had been in classrooms with the lights off and morning sun peeking through the windows. The sunbeams came into the room diagonally, lighting up bits of dust swirling slowly in the air.

Kailynne danced across the room, doing a spin and a hop. She kept at it, darting between the desks and galloping down the aisles. The lights stayed off and the room stayed dim. "Is this enough motion for you?" she asked between breaths.

Annie laughed. "OK, so it's not a motion detector... The lights aren't going back on."

Kailynne shook her head in agreement. Then she stopped dancing, catching her breath. "Now be really still and listen," she instructed, still breathing heavily. Annie shifted her position to a balance that would be more comfortable, while Kailynne's breathing slowed and became silent. Kailynne cupped her ears, and raised her eyebrows, looking at Annie.

Annie nodded and began to listen. At first she didn't hear anything. But then she realized she was still thinking a little bit about being late for math class. In fact, she was kind of mad at Kailynne for making her late, and even a tiny bit mad at herself for it. She told herself, "I accept that I'm going to be crazy late for math. I forgive Kailynne for it, and I forgive myself too." <- this is too on the nose

Kailynne had closed her eyes. Maybe to listen better? Annie wondered, so she closed hers too. She tried to let her mind do nothing but hear the room, in its every dusty nook and cranny. She stood still, and turned her whole attention to parsing the sounds around her. At first she thought she heard notthing, and felt bored. But then she realized that the "nothing" that she heard had all sorts of sounds in it; first she noticed the sounds of passing cars, then a distant echo of talking in the hallway outside the classroom, then wind rustling in trees near the school, then cries of glee from the playground, where the little kids were having recess. It was like someone had turned up the volume on the world; the more she stood still and listened, the more she heard, until she couldn't believe she had thought she heard "nothing" before.

Layers of sound kept slowly revealing themselves, seeming to step forward out of the background to claim their role in the day's dramas. A chair being dragged across a floor somewhere else in the school, far away. A muffled sing-song voice like a Kindergarten teacher. Birds chirping far away. Some kind of beeping, somewhere. And then se realized that there were sounds so subtle and faint, they were on the edge of her perception; at this point, Annie couldn't tell the difference between what she was hearing, and what she might be only imagining. 

Annie had never known a moment like this one. It was as if she could hear the world breathing—the trees, the walls, the sunlit air itself.

And then, finally, she heard it: a sound like two fingers touching. It had a rubbery texture, an almost sticky shape to it, and a rhythm: tup-tup, tup-tup, in sets of two. She opened her eyes, then watched Kailynne as she opened hers. Kailynne used two fingers to point to her eyes, then to the far corner of the classroom, where there was a stack of bins in front of a closet door they never used. The sound was coming from the tower of bins in the corner, in front of the forgotten closet. 

Annie responded by making her two fingers walk across the air. Kailynne nodded, and began to creep towards the corner. As quietly as she could, Annie started to pull the stack of bins that nearly hid the unused door from view.

And then they heard a click, and the lights turned back on, and at the same moment, Annie gasped and jumped back, knocking into Kailynne so they both staggered back. "Did you see that?" Annie croaked, clutching her friend. Kailynne nodded. Behind the stack of bins there was a light switch--one they had never seen before, and never seen anyone use. And something had darted up the wall to the switch, flicked it, and darted back down, all in the blink of an eye.

"What was that?" Annie asked. "Was that a lizard?"

"It was a salamander," Kailynne said steadily. "And I think I know its name."

---------------------------

> Kailynne and Annie set an alarm with a simple circuit

----------------------------

> The alarm goes off

Annie and Kailynne were in Tashauna's art class when they heard it -- a metallic ringing in the distance. It was their door alarm.

It took a moment for them to register it, and then their eyes met and they bolted to their feet.

"Um--" "We--" "I---" they fumbled their words, looking at Tashauna with pleading eyes.

Tashauna laughed. "What's the emergency?"

Annie and Kailynne looked at each other, then looked back at Tashauna.

"I get it," she chuckled, "secret project." She smiled at them, then cocked her head. "Let's see. Should I make you fess up to the details?" The girls gulped. "Or should I just trust you?"

Annie spoke. "Tashauna, I promise you, it's nothing bad. We're just..."

Kailynne finished, "We're just not ready to show everybody yet. There are still some mysteries to unravel first."

Tashauna nodded. "With this project," she asked in her unique voice, smooth as silk and yet gravelly and textured, "are you bringing our world into greater balance?"

Kailynne thought about the mysterious lines of code, about their urgent warning. How could she help meet such a need, without understanding it? "Yes," she said confidently.

Tashauna said no more, but gestured with two fingers and an eyebrow to the door.

"Thanks, Tashauna," Annie breathed as the girls rushed past her, out the door, down the hall, down two flights of stairs, and into the fifth grade homeroom.

Kailynne gasped, and Annie almost choked. They had caught the culprit--a college-age guy they had never seen before was fumbling frantically with their alarm mechanism. 

He was wearing a black jumpsuit, and in large pink letters were the letters: C.I.A.

The man shot to his feet. "I can explain," he said, holding his arms out towards them defensively. Kailynne's eyes went past him, to the door to the secret room; it was open a few inches, the stacks of books pulled away from it. 

"You'd better," Annie warned loudly, speaking over the ringing, her arms crossed. Kailynne stepped around the man to the box where the alarm circuitry was hidden, and pulled one of the wires away from the screw that held it to the bell. The sound stopped; in its place, the silence felt like a shock. The man looked pleadingly from Annie, in front of him, to Kailynne to his left. Kailynne stood back up, crossing her arms too. "You heard her," she said flatly. 

He stepped forward and pulled a chair out from a desk. "I'll start at the beginning," he sighed, sitting down gingerly. Annie and Kailynne moved to sit down too, looking down at two nearby chairs as they pulled them into position.

And at that moment, the man sprang from his seat and bolted to the door.

"Hey!" both girls shouted, tripping over their chairs as they moved to run after him. By the time they reached the hall, he was banging open the swinging doors to the stairwell; by the time they reached the stairwell, he was a full flight down.

They burst from the building, and saw him sprinting across the field. He came to the four-foot chain-link fence that separated the baseball diamond from the rest, and leaped over it. His front leg cleared it with room to spare, but his back foot caught the fence top, and he hit the ground awkwardly, sprawling on the grass.

The girls were ten paces behind him, Annie a few steps in front, and they seemed close to catching up. But as she reached the fence, she stopped, holding it and looking at it. The man was rising to his feet again. As Kailynne reached the fence, she stutter-stepped to slow herself, planted her feet on the ground, grabbed a fencepost, and vaulted over the fence cleanly. But the man was already dashing across the field to the street, where he opened the door of a white van with the initials "C.I.A" in big purple letters, jumped in, and revved the engine, with a side glance at Kailynne, who just reached the van as he sped off. 

Out of breath, Kailynne walked back across the field to the fence, where Annie was still trying to get her toes to stay in place in the fence's diamond-shaped openings. "Do you not know how to climb a fence?" she said between panting breaths. "What do you do when you need to get to the other side?"

Annie gave her a dirty look. "I go around, OK?"

Kailynne laughed. "Seriously?"

"Shut up." Annie was frowning.

"Wait," Kailynne said, "are you mad? I really didn't mean it like that." She wished she had enough breath to give a fuller explanation.

"I'm fine," Annie replied, rolling her eyes. "Just, you know. A little embarrassed."

===================================================

> Hickenlooper interrogates Ada


"Hello, Ada," said Ms. Lashley warmly, as Ada entered the office. Ada hated coming here—she always felt so off-balance here. In her everyday life, she felt the imbalance of power between her and teachers, her and her parents, but it wasn't too bad, it didn't feel like she was so far below them. But here, she felt like an intruder, like she was looking up at a high tower, where some queen or king moved her around like a pawn. This wasn't her space. She didn't even know where to stand, or whether to hold her hands clasped, or behind her, or by her sides.

"Should I–" she started, but the door to the principal's office opened, and Ms. Dawkins was standing in the doorway, looking stern and tired, gesturing her in wordlessly.

Ada entered, saw the chair in front of the desk that she had sat in before, and reached out to rotate it slightly to begin sitting down.

"Ahem," a voice said behind her, and she jumped. Mr. Hickenlooper was there, closer to her than she felt comfortable. "Do not move the furniture."

Ms. Dawkins shot him a look. "This is my office, Scott, students may adjust the seat as they sit down." She gestured for Ada to sit. Heat was rising in Ada, and she locked eyes with Mr. Hickenlooper, as she stepped around the seat without touching it in a way she hoped seemed surprisingly lithe and graceful, and sat down soundlessly. In a way, she appreciated that he had issued such a ridiculous demand. It reminded her immediately of her mother's description of the "trifling, small-minded leaders" she warned Ada she would encounter. This was someone to survive, not someone to take seriously.

Ms. Dawkins stepped around the desk and sat down at her chair. "Let's get to the matter at hand. Ada, you're not in trouble–"

"Ahem," Mr. Hickenlooper said again. Ada choked a giggle. He was literally saying the word "ahem", like he didn't know it was supposed to represent a natural sound people make.

Ada kept her eyes facing forward. She opened her mouth, and found that the voice that came out was more assured than she thought she was. "What seems to be the matter?"

(idea is that there was a critical comment... it's Anu with the "negative assumptions" about Bob and Tom)


============================================

> Ada and Leo go upstate

---

> They see deer, it's special

Ada and Leo spilled out of the cabin, half running down the brick path to the road. There were no sidewalks here, she noted, not even curbs, only street running up against dirt. "It's not even that cold!" she said, looking around at the white fields and the slushy, dripping branches above them.

"It creeps up on you," Leo warned. "It's not that cold, you don't even feel like you need to keep your hands in your pockets, and then suddenly you realize you're chilled to the bone." He liked the sound of that, and shouted, "TO THE BONE!" The two of them bent over laughing. "Oh my god, you're stupid," Ada giggled.

They walked, talking about school and the snow and skiing, which Ada was nervous about. And then, suddenly, she froze, and said "Oh shit–"

"What?" Leo said, whipping around to look where Ada was looking. Two deer, neither with antlers, were standing still, looking at them, about 50 feet away. They were standing in the snow near thick trees, a little ways behind and below them.

"Don't move!" Ada commanded Leo, and herself. He laughed, gently, teasingly. "It's OK!" Ada hit him gently on the shoulder. "I know, but I don't want them to run away yet. I know it's not special for you–"

"It's special for me," Leo cut in. He looked at her seriously. "It is special for me." The deer decided the situation was OK, and started poking their noses around the ground again.

"You must see them all the time. Aren't they, like, just considered pests out here?"

"Well, you don't want to hit one with your car," Leo acknowledged. They stood, staring, their breaths steaming. "It's still special."

After a while, Ada said "I guess it's a surprise. I knew there would be wild animals, but like, they seem like to them this is just their normal home. We were just in the city, which is not nature. And it's not like we passed a barrier into nature."

Leo smiled. "I think the city's nature, too. We just pretend it's not."

---

> Roadside fruit stand

As Leo and Ada walked -- Leo slightly in front, leading the way because he was more familiar with the area -- the bright sun steadily warmed them up. After a while, they reached the main road, and started to walk along it.

"I'm not crazy about this, like, non-sidewalk," Ada said after a while. They were usually able to stay a few steps away from where cars would drive, but every now and then one came close enough to make her body shudder, even though Leo was walking in between her and the road.

"We can cross to the other side," Leo suggested. "There's more room there." That was better, with a little packed-dirt path next to the asphalt. 

"Where are we going, anyway?" Ada asked. But Leo only smiled and said, "You'll see" (at which Ada rolled her eyes.)

Where they were going was a small fruit stand, run by a mother and daughter, with lots of greens, brussels sprouts, carrots, and squash. 

They dove into the wares, and Leo quickly discovered that Ada didn't know what several things were. "That's a radish," Ada said confidently, as Leo held up a radish. In response, he took a bite. 

"Wait, no! Can you do that??" Ada rushed over and hid the radish with her hand. 

Leo laughed. "Caroline, can I do this?" Leo called, taking another bite. The mom called back, "Only if you pay cash!"

"Okay, okay," Leo said, holding up something else. "What's this?"

Ada squinted. "Is that a trick question? It's a... jumbo radish?"

Leo grinned. "I like that. Yes, it's a jumbo radish." He took a bite. "Mmm, spicy!" 

Caroline called out, "I'm ringing you up for radishes AND turnips, Leo..."

Ada called out "Sorry!" But Caroline just shouted back "Sorry nothing, I'm making sales here! Keep eating!"


===================================================

> Ada snoops in mom's room


"Mom?" Ada called. She knocked on her door and listened. In the distance, she heard a car engine, and somewhere in the house there were a few of those clicking sounds that wood makes as it heats and cools. But no stirring in the bedroom.

Gingerly, she opened the door. It was dim in the room, the only light coming from the two rectangles of sunlight escaping the sides of the windowshades. She flicked on the light. She hardly ever came in here; it wasn't off limits, exactly, but she knew her mom wouldn't want her snooping around. Her dad, he didn't care.

Ada looked around the room, and stepped over to her mother's bureau. There were six perfume bottles on top, and she could smell them as she got close, a vague and subtle cloud of flowers and spice and something dark. She picked up one bottle, dark red, pulled the cap off with a satisfying pop, and smelled it. She felt something surprising—jealousy. Why? She imagined her mother putting this on; she would be thinking of other people she might impress, might draw in. She would be putting on her best face for them, showing them her most impressive side. Ada knew her mother loved her. But her mother always seemed to want Ada to be doing something different—she never had the sense her mother cared about impressing her.

Ada sprayed some of the perfume on her wrist, then rubbed it in small circles on either side of her neck, as she had seen her mother do. Then, on the other side of the house, she heard the front door close, and she put the bottle down, capped it with shaky hands, rushed out of the room, and turned the door handle as she closed the door so the latch wouldn't click too loudly.

-----------------------

> Ada realizes the purpose of Leo's game

But she did keep playing. Even though she couldn't find her way to the other side of the game's conundrum, she found she was appreciating all of the different vignettes and side stories she was encountering. A chest washed ashore, with soggy clothes and papers that told the story of a bride married off to a man she had never met, who wrote passionately of a love with a school friend, and schemed to sabotage the voyage to return to her. There was a baby bird, its egg fallen from its nest and cracked, who Ada returned to the nest. Seeing with a shock that it had been rejected by its mother, she took it to her lean-to—her own nest, of a sort—and nursed it into health with a diet of crushed clams and beetles. (She shared the diet of clams, but not the beetles.) These episodes didn't seem to lead her any closer to getting off the island, though, and she was forced to build her shelter into more of a long-term home that could protect her from storms and wild animals.

She set off to school the next day with a speech written in her head about how Leo wasn't adequately offering "signposts" or "milestones" within the game, concepts she had learned from watching video interviews with game designers. But when they had the chance to talk, when they both finished the water cycle quiz early, she was surprised to find that all she wanted to talk about was life on the island.

And that was how she solved the game. Talking to Leo, she listened to herself. She was saying, "There's so much breadth to the game. Maybe too much for me to solve it. I feel like I'm really there, like I can do anything I want to, even though each page only gives me two or sometimes three choices." She was saying, "I still haven't gotten any closer to getting off the island, which, I mean, has to be the game's objective". 

And Leo wasn't saying much of anything.

As soon as she saw the possibility, she understood everything. You didn't need to get off the island. You didn't need to accept the idea that you were trapped there; you were only trapped in your own mind, only if you chose to see it that way.

"Okay, I get it," Ada admitted the next morning. "But you can't just say that everybody who ever feels like they're trapped really isn't trapped. Some people are wrongfully imprisoned, they're enslaved, they're in an abusive relationship. Should those people just see themselves as free instead of trapped? Does that solve anything, or does it just brush the problem under the rug?"

Leo chewed on this. "I'll be honest, I didn't really think about that. But like, just because it's true that someone might be trapped, doesn't mean that you have to be trapped."

Ada laughed. "Doesn't it?" She shook her head. "I think my parents taught be it's a virtue to suffer, if anyone else is suffering."

"I've met your parents! There's no way they would say that."

"No, they don't want it for me," Ada agreed. "But it's how they think about themselves. At least, how my mom thinks about herself. And that's kind of a stronger lesson, you know?"

Leo thought. "Maybe we need to do something fun for your mom's birthday?"

===================================================

> Chapter: Emotion tracker

It was a crazy morning, one of those mornings where nothing seems to go right. First, Nicole threw a fit because she wanted to borrow Ada's sweatpants to wear to school, and instead of just saying "no", for some reason Ada made fun of her lazy dressing style, and Nicole absolutely flipped out. Ada didn't know why she had done it -- she was just impatient, and felt like getting Nicole out of her hair. Her parents had not exactly appreciated that.

Then she spent forever on her hair, which felt so pointless because she wasn't even vain about her hair, she just let it be natural and pulled it into this or that shape with hair ties, but today it just seemed endlessly lumpy, and her dad was nagging her about leaving for school and she snapped at him. Then they had a whole fight, and Ada slammed the door and cried quietly, and looked at the minutes tick by and felt hopeless. She asked her dad for a ride, which she knew he totally could have given her, but he just buried his face in the newspaper and said no, Ada would have to "face the reality your choices led to", which made her want to strangle him.

Finally, she stumbled out the door, and school was almost starting, and she ran until she was out of breath and walked the rest of the way and finally plopped down at her desk twelve minutes late, with Ms. Krebke glaring at her and Ada feeling conscious that she was practically pouring sweat, which for some reason waited until she had /stopped/ rushing to announce itself. She buried her head in her arms on the desk and let herself catch her breath, which took a while.

"Can someone catch Ada up?" Ms. Krebke was asking. "Evangeline?"

"Huh?" Evangeline replied. Ada smiled, in the dark nook of her folded arms. It was her first smile of the morning.

Ms. Krebke sighed. "Kenny, could you help Ada /and/ Evangeline out?"

Kenny spoke slowly, in a quiet voice. "We're doing a measurement project."

"Thanks, Kenny," Ms. Krebke said warmly, and looked at him. "Now Kenny, what do you think I'd like to ask you to do next, with your explanation?"

Kenny took a breath. "Elaborate comprehensively?" he said tentatively.

"Elaborate comprehensively!" Ms. Krebke announced enthusiastically. "Oh, I love to hear those words from my students. Can you elaborate comprehensively on this project, Kenny?"

Kenny looked around nervously. Ada flashed him a thumbs up sign, and he took a deep breath and began mumbling: "We'restudyingwaysthatwecanmonitortheenvironmentaroundus..." But Ms. Krebke put up a hand to stop him.

"Who can hear what Kenny is saying?" she asked. Only K.C., who was sitting right next to Kenny and always got his back, shot their hand up.

"Who," Ms. Krebke continued, "/wants/ to hear what Kenny is saying?" Nearly every hand shot up. Leo kicked Marco and he raised his hand too.

"Kenny, could you please slow down, and share your summary--which I am confident will be insightful and clear, because the quality of your attention and composition wows me every day--at a volume that does justice to the quality of the content?"

Kenny nodded.

"We're studying," he began in a shaky voice, then turned his body slightly and looked around the room at his classmates. He seemed to be figuring something out. He continued, more calmly and clearly: "ways that we can monitor the environment around us. That could mean the natural environment, like air or water or soil quality. Or the technical environment, like cars and the subway and street lights. Or it could mean the social environment, like people and their movements or states of mind." He raised his eyes up to meet Ms. Krebke's.

She was smiling, and Ada thought that it wasn't that teacher smile you see sometimes that means they aren't respecting you. It was a true smile.



---

> Ada and Leo code late, talk about being happy

After they sent in their finished code, Ada and Leo quietly turned off the computer and the lights, left the computer lab, and went out the school's back door, holding the handle as the door closed so it wouldn't be too loud. Dina the janitor had said it was OK with her for them to stay late, but they wouldn't want to alert Mr. Hickenlooper to the fact that they were working late in the computer lab.

"It's so warm!" Ada remarked, when the April evening air hit them.

"I love nights like this," Leo agreed. "I feel so..." he paused, pinching his lips sideways. "I don't know, maybe it's finishing that code, I feel like I could do anything!"

Ada laughed. "Totally! I feel like, if a train was out of control, and we needed to jump onto it and disable it, or like, aliens appeared and challenged one human to a battle of wits, or I had to debate someone on live TV right now... whatever it is, I can do it."

Leo was nodding. "Like, no doubt. No question."

"No question!" Ada smiled as they trundled down the street. She felt like she was bouncing. "Why can't I feel like this all the time?" And then she stopped short, as a flick of yellow-green light appeared in the air in front of them, arcing up and to the right, and then disappeared. She gasped, "Whoah, a firefly!"

Leo turned and looked across the street, where there was a small field. "There's like five of them over there!" He pointed, as he walked backwards.

"I can't believe they're real," Ada said. "I can't believe they only do this to show off for each other, to make themselves attractive. Like, there are female fireflies watching that right now being like 'Yo, that's hot'."

Leo laughed, and they kept walking. Half a block later he said, "You could, though." Ada raised an eyebrow, and he continued, "You could feel like this more. We both could. I don't know if I would want to feel like this all the time, though. I wouldn't want it to get old."

"How," Ada asked, "do you make yourself feel like this more? Feel like, I'm just so glad to be here, right now, to be me, to bring my best? Like, no one else could get in the way of this feeling?"

Leo thought about that. "Maybe it takes practice."

Leo's house was only a block or two out of the way for Ada, so when they got to the place where they normally split up, she decided to walk him home.

But when they reached Leo's house, there was a strange metal contraption on the front door, with several laminated paper signs attached.

"What the--" Ada started, but then she noticed Leo's shoulders tense up, and she paused. "Leo?" she asked, in a small voice. Her eye fell on bold words on a sign that seemed to read "Eviction Notice", and she felt a sour pang of sorrow and empathy. She felt an ache in her throat, at the base of her jaw on either side, as though she were suddenly coming down with a cold.

Leo walked up a few of the front steps, stood silently, and then turned back around. He was looking past Ada, his head tilted down towards the ground. "Um," he started, kicking the stair with the front of his shoe, "I've got to go around the back, I guess." He stepped down one step, then stopped. He seemed not to know what to do, or say, and Ada realized this was the first time she hadn't been sure he knew both, and with style. It was unnerving.

"I'll go," Ada offered. "It seems like..." she trailed off.

"Yeah," Leo said. "I'll figure out what this is." He seemed to be coming back into himself, and actually smiled slightly as he added, "It's probably nothing."

"Sure," Ada assured him. Helpless, she turned to go, aware that Leo was still standing on his steps. It wasn't until she turned the corner that she realized she had been holding her breath.

---

> Emotion tracker detects rising anger


Ada entered the classroom, grabbing a hot lunch tin, a plastic cold pack, and a chocolate milk from the tray as she passed. A group of kids was huddled over by K. P.'s desk, she noted, and she sat down at an empty desk nearby, folded back the chalky paper on the milk box, and started to peel the foil off the tin.

"No apple?" Leo asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Mealy," Ada said through gulps of chocolate milk. 

"And you're drinking that, on top of it," Leo shook his head. "You know how much sugar that stuff has?"

Ada wiped her mouth. "I do believe that's why I drink it."

"Your body is a temple," Leo said, with an air of exaggerated piety.

"And this," Ada said with her chin in the air, "is a temple of joy."

"Hey goddess of candy water," Leo said, "come look at this."

Ada sighed, took a few bites of tasteless green beans and pasta shells, and trotted over. She could see that K.C.'s screen showed several graphs, ticking every few seconds with updates. "That's your sentiment detector?" she asked.

"Yep," K.C. replied, chewing on her lip. "It listens to speech using microphones throughout the school... and before you protest, no, it doesn't store the audio. It scores it for emotion,, but discards it right away, for privacy purposes."

"And... does that spike mean what I think it means?" Ada pointed to a graph that read simply, "Anger". She could see that all week, it had been hovering in the 2 to 5 range, except for a few brief spikes up to 6 or 7. But in the last 10 minutes, it had shot up to 11 or 12, and it seemed to be climbing.

"I... I think so?" K.C. sounded worried.

===================================================

> Ada takes sister to natural history museum


On Saturday, Ada dragged herself out of bed early. She made decaf coffee; her mom wouldn't let her make regular coffee, but Ada found the smell and the echo of real coffee helped wake her up. She went into her little sister Nicole's room to wake her up. She couldn't believe how grown up Nicole was looking, but when she slept she still seemed soft and new, and Ada rubbed her head gently and helped her come to. With a little coaxing, Nicole got dressed and brushed her teeth, they had some cereal, and they set off for the excursion Ada had planned to the Natural History Museum.

They spent a long time in the rooms with dioramas—large cats in the savannah, bears in wintry woods, strange horselike animals with tusks at the edge of wetlands. 

Nicole pointed to a "small" mammoth, much bigger than her, who was nuzzled up against a hairy wall meant to represent the mammoth's parent. "Are those still alive?" she asked.

"You mean, are they extinct?" Ada wanted her to know precise terms.

"Yeah."

"No, these are extinct."

"Why?"

Ada thought. "I guess, I don't really know." She thought some more. "They lived during a time when the Earth was much colder, so I guess their habitat was really big—they could probably go lots of places to find the food they were used to. But when the Earth got warmer, the places they could live, and which food grew where, changed, and they couldn't adjust."

Nicole listened. "How did they make this one?"

Ada was stumped. "What a great question. What do you think?"

Nicole looked at her. "Just tell me!"

Ada laughed. "I really don't know. Honestly, I've looked at this a million times, and I've never thought to ask that." Nicole smiled.


===================================================

> Leo goes camping


Leo hadn't wanted to go on the camping trip with his church group, but his mom had insisted, and even though she had an innocent and warm exterior, Leo and his brothers knew that underneath was a layer of steel that would not yield. She didn't need to say "and that's final!", like some parents—they only say that because they aren't sure of themselves. His mom was sure. She signed him up, and told him, and left it to him to figure out if there was a list of things to bring, and to borrow or buy (or steal) what he needed. 

He spent the ride in the van leaning against the window, only occasionally chiming in on some stupid conversation the other boys were having, feeling alone and unloved. The rest of them seemed to have a comfort about them, a delicacy he associated with the bit of baby fat that most of them carried, a default smile and a superficiality. They didn't feel something missing inside. They wouldn't even understand what he was talking about if he tried to explain it.

But things shifted for him once they parked and set out for the campsite. To his surprise, the deacon leading the trip, the father of one of the boys, gave them little instruction. He told them what they needed to know—the campsite was a two mile hike into the woods, there would be brambles, always follow the yellow trail markers. And he put together his pack, announced that he was starting in five minutes, and said nothing more. He wasn't cold or rude, he just treated them like peers, rather than like children, and Leo brightened. For reasons he couldn't understand, most of the other boys didn't seem to get it; a few of them were chasing each other around, slapping their towels at each other. Did they think they never had to do anything unless an adult was leading them by the hand?

Eventually, after the deacon set off, Leo feebly announced too that he was going, and a few of the boys looked over in confusion. Some of them hadn't even identified their packs in the pile. Now they seemed to scramble, and Leo could hear them behind him as they shrieked and fumbled with the clips and asked each other for help.

At the camp that night, it was the same thing. The deacon had told them where firewood and an axe were, but nothing else. It was up to Leo to realize they needed to actually make a fire, and to spearhead the operation—at which point, suddenly everyone had opinions about how to set up the logs. It was up to Leo to decide they needed to make dinner, and to collect ingredients that various boys had been assigned to bring, several of them missing or already squashed.

All of this didn't make Leo feel cared for by his parents. But it did make him feel more whole.


===================================================

> Leo gets caught with a pocketknife

Leo was with the class in the art room, working on his unplugged arcade project, when the feeling in the room suddenly shifted. He looked up--and saw that Mr. Hickenlooper had stepped into the room.

He clasped a notepad in his hands, and began to circulate around the room, peering intrusively at the projects as students worked on them. 

"Um, hi there, Mr. Hickenlooper," Mr. Hartley called from across the room, bounding over to intercept him. "We weren't expecting you." He attempted to put a hand over his shoulder to lead him away from the projects, but Mr. Hickenlooper would not budge.

"Are any of these students wearing protective eyewear?" Mr. Hickenlooper asked, in a scornful tone. Mr. Hartley glanced around the room nervously. "Sure," he chuckled unconvincingly, "Sasha and Phaedra are!" he pointed towards the far corner, where Phaedra was wearing her eyeglasses, and Sasha was twirling a pair of protective glasses with her hand. Mr. Hartley announced to the room, "Everyone, reminder to have your protective glasses on at all times! As soon as you step into this room!" He turned to Mr. Hickenlooper. "When they use tools, they definitely wear them," he assured him, as Pradeep drilled into a block of wood next to him. Pradeep looked up, his uncovered eyes showing surprise, then puffed out his cheeks, reached over for the protective glasses, and slid them slowly onto his face.

"Hmmm," Mr. Hickenlooper emitted with a frown, scrawling notes on his pad.

They continued to circulate. But when they got to Leo's station, Mr. Hickenlooper stopped. "That's quite a nice saw you've got there," he said.

Leo stopped sawing back and forth, and looked at the rusty handsaw, with its sun-bleached, fraying wooden handle. "Oh," said Leo, "this is my dad's." He gestured idly to a toolbox next to him, with the top open.

Mr. Hickenlooper stared at the toolbox for a moment, then licked his lips and leaned forward. "You mean to tell me," he said in an even tone, "these are items you brought into the school yourself?" Underneath his calm exterior, his voice had a slight tremble of excitement, and Mr. Hartley felt uneasy. He sprang forward to shut the toolbox, but Mr. Hickenlooper slipped his hand into it before he could close the top. "Just a moment, Jim," he said with sickly sweetness. He opened the top back up, removed an adjustable wrench and a clamp, then found what he was looking for. 

Mr. Hickenlooper's face lit up. Mr. Hartley's heart sank. In his hand, Mr. Hickenlooper was holding up a folding pocketknife. 

"Is this yours?" Mr. Hickenlooper asked. Leo looked up, nodding idly, then focused back on his project, where he was trying to hammer two blocks of wood together. Mr. Hartley couldn't believe how oblivious Leo was being--didn't he know he was being set up? He looked across the room at Ada, who was following Mr. Hickenlooper closely, and who seemed to realize what was happening.

"So," Mr. Hickenlooper continued, "you secretly brought a lethal weapon into school."

Now Leo seemed to get it.

================================

> Ada goes to School Committee meeting


It was Ada's first time in City Hall, and she didn't know which way to go to find the School Committee meeting room. She was surprised that the front desk had nobody there—weren't they worried about security for, like, the mayor? Her town might only have 100,000 or so people, but there were security guards keeping plenty of random businesses and office buildings safe, so shouldn't there be one for City Hall? 

As she tiptoed her way into the building, she looked up; hanging down, with a sweeping staircase winding around it, was a massive, metal and glass chandelier. It had dozens of places for light bulbs, each in the curved shape of a flame, at the top of a small, candle-like, papery cylinder. But most of the bulbs seemed to be missing, broken, or burned out.

Staring at the chandelier, she wondered if she should wait at the desk, if she would be accused of trespassing. What would her father say? She could hear his voice in her ear; he would say something confident but not arrogant, something that took responsibility but also expected responsibility from others. Something like, "This is the people's hall. Our hall. We pay for leaders and staff to guide us. If they're not doing a good job, we'll guide ourselves—and we don't have to apologize for it." That made her feel better about not knowing exactly if she should be there. Her shoulders released, and tension evaporated from her back. Why could she feel that way if her father said it, but not just say it herself?

"Wondering why our building is so full of broken things?" asked a voice from behind Ada, and a well put-together middle-aged woman stepped up next to her. 

"Kind of," Ada admitted. "Sometimes it feels like nothing really works, like anywhere."

"It was built and donated by a local company in 1920," the woman said, staring up at the chandelier with Ada. "At that time, the wealthy lived near here on Spectacle Hill, and the poor lived in the lowlands, many with nothing to eat. For the money it cost to keep it up each year, ten families could have eaten."

Ada chewed on this idea. "So," she said finally, "it's not a symbol of the city being disorganized." She looked up at the woman. "It's a symbol of our priorities. We should be proud that it stays broken."

The woman held out her hand. "I'm one of the assistant superintendents. Vicki Cardozo."

Ada took her hand and shook it uncertainly. "And I'm–"

"Ada," Vicki said with a laugh. "I know who you are. Your reputation precedes you! Principal Henri has told us all about you."

---------------------------------

Ada looked around the chamber room. She felt completely unfamiliar with what a room like this looked and felt like. Utterly unfamiliar. She looked at the city council members seated around the horseshoe-shaped table, with their metal name plaques. It looked like they had always been here, like this was just another day for them. Like they were born here. Whereas she, Ada, had only been here for a few minutes. She didn't know where to stand. She didn't know where to look, or who to not look at. She spotted a security guard, and saw that she had a holstered weapon, maybe a taser. Then she felt conscious that she was staring at the taser--was everyone else watching her, and wondering why she was so fixated on it? Maybe they thought she was a criminal. Maybe they were wondering who invited her. Maybe someone was about to kick her out, to laugh cruelly at her for even thinking she had permission to be in this room.

She closed her eyes. "Hard just means it's worthwhile. I deserve the same welcome that I believe others deserve. Don't let them make you apologize for your voice, your good points, or your power." It was her father's voice, running through all of the dad advice he liked to give. She still felt like rolling her eyes at it all, but it didn't feel wrong. Not right now. She kept running through it in her mind. "Hard just means it's worthwhile. I deserve the same welcome that I believe others deserve. Don't let them make you apologize for your voice, your good points, or your power."

A city council member was talking about business licenses or something, and her attention floated back into the room. She opened her eyes and looked around. Now it looked more like a normal room. She imagined all the times handymen had to come in to fix broken desks and floor tiles and windows in here. She imagined all the time it sat empty and dark, all the times it had been mopped by an underpaid janitor. This room didn't belong to the city council, or to the mayor, or to Mr. Hickenlooper. It belonged to everyone. There wasn't a wrong way to stand, or a wrong place to sit in here, because the rules, the real rules, aren't made by the Mr. Hickenloopers and the mayors. The rules that mattered, the rules that were worth actually respecting, were made by people who respect everyone, who love everyone, who wouldn't care about someone not knowing where to sit their first time here.

She sat down in the nearest chair. It didn't matter if someone else had an opinion about that. This was her chair. 

==================================================

> Ada & Leo hide in the school to hack into Mr. Hickenlooper's computer

Ada listened at the door to make sure she didn't hear anyone inside, then slipped into the bathroom, went into a stall, and locked it from the inside. She sat down, fully clothed, on the toilet--there was nowhere else to sit--pulled out her book, and prepared to wait. Every 10 or 15 minutes, she stood up to get the blood flowing in her legs again, then sat back down.

Around 6pm, after reading a good 75 pages, she heard the door open. Quietly, trying to keep her movement even so as not to make a sound, she pulled her feet up from the floor, and perched her shoes on the front of the toilet seat, so there wouldn't be feet visible in the gap at the bottom of the stall.

She heard the custodian, Mr. Cushing, whistling as he came in. And wheeling something with a rattling sound. Her heart sank. With a loud, wet THWOP, something smacked against the floor--his mop. He was going to mop the bathroom floor. And that meant he was going to open the stall door. A sour taste filled Ada's mouth, and she felt a dizzy rush of adrenaline. When the moment came when he opened the stall door--what would she say? Why hadn't she thought of a lie before, one that might seem plausible? Should she put her legs down and make it seem like she hadn't been trying to hide?

A minute later, Mr. Cushing could be heard right outside the stall door, his mop swishing back and forth. Ada heard the handle knock against the door, and braced for the door to swing open, and for Mr. Cushing's astonished face. But then the mop head appeared under the door, and moved in swiftly, covering the floor on either side of the toilet, and in front. And just as quickly, it was gone.

He wasn't going to come into the stall at all! Ada realized she had been holding her breath, and was nearly gasping. She slowly let it out, feeling her lungs deflate, and then took in a few breaths as silently as she could. The mop worked the floor in the stall next to hers, and then Mr. Cushing wheeled the mop cart out, and flicked the light off.  She had made it!

Ada waited 10 minutes more, then carefully gathered her backpack in the dark and opened the bathroom door. It creaked loudly, and she winced and waited, listening for footsteps. All was silent, as far as she could tell--her heart was beating so loudly, she wasn't sure she would hear someone else. She was terrified of getting in trouble, but also more sure than ever that she was doing the right thing. She felt a bit sick, but also superhuman, like she could leap a vast chasm if she had to. 


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> Ada's parents learn that her pushing for alternative to testing might make her get held back

"Ada?" her father's voice called from deep in the house, as soon as Ada turned the key and pushed open the door. The door had so much stuff hanging from the handle and various hooks on the inside, it functioned like the bell on a shop door, alerting everyone that Ada was home. "Ada, come here please."

Ada put her bag down and rolled her shoulder to loosen it back up. "Coming," she called. There was a curious feeling in the air, and she felt uneasy.

She expected to find her dad in the kitchen, and instead had to go looking in her parents' bedroom. Both of her parents were in there, her mother under the covers, her father sitting on the edge of the bed. They'd clearly been talking about whatever it was they wanted to talk to her about.

"Do you care to tell me what this is?" her mother demanded, pointing to an unfolded letter that Ada's father was holding. 

Ada felt a rising sense of panic. Was it something she'd done wrong? Some rule she'd broken? Some parent who was angry that she had led their kid astray? Was it an attack by Mr. Hickenlooper, some sort of new angle that he knew about and she didn't? She gasped for air, and realized that she hadn't been breathing for several seconds. Lightheaded, she sank to the floor, remembering her doctor's instruction from years before not to remain standing if she thought she might faint.

Ada opened her mouth to apologize, and ask for the letter. But as she began to, a contrary set of feelings swept over her. Her eyes narrowed, and her fists clenched. "You know, I try so hard," she said, surprised at the stony edge in her voice. "I'm trying so hard, and I'm doing so well." She felt tears coming.

"That's not in doubt," her father said, with notes of both warmth and correction in his voice.

"But don't change the subject," her mother said. Her father held out a hand subtly, a gesture to tell her mom to ease off. "I want you to tell me what this is, and why we're only reading it now." She turned to her husband and added,  "And don't tell me how to talk to my daughter. I'm talking to her fine. I'm asking her specific questions about her behavior."

"Argh!" Ada let out, shaking her arms to give her anger something to do. "I'll look at whatever that letter is," she said sharply, staring at her mother. "Fine. But first, you have to listen to me."

(next: Ada says how hard she's trying. letter is saying that ada may not graduate from 5th grade, because of noncompliance with state testing.)

Ada's father sat, listening, with his arms folded, nodding. He took a deep breath. "This has gone on long enough," he said, not dramatically, but with a gentle certainty. "Ada, I've been talking to Gene. There's a spot at Maple Hill, they say they'll take a mid-year transfer, and they'd be thrilled to have you."

Ada's jaw dropped open and her lip curled.

He continued. "I know this situation isn't your fault. But--it's messing with your life too much."

"My life," Ada said emphatically, "MY life. That I get to decide--"

Her mother cut in, "Ada, we are talking about your future!"

"How is this going to mess with my future, mom?" Ada asked. "How, specifically? Oh no, MIT is going to see I was suspended in fifth grade, I won't get the Fields Medal?"

Her father held up a hand. "It's not just that. I agree that you have some say in that. It's your risk to take--" and here he caught his wife's look, and adjusted, "not entirely your decision, but yes, partially yours. Where it isn't up to you is as regards your mental health."

Ada breathed heavily. "My mental health. Really. You're going to use that against me, that I confided in you?" She scoffed. "This is such bullshit."

"EXCUSE ME?" Her mother exploded. Her fists balled and she had to step back to let her anger dissipate. Turning to her husband and pointing, she added, "Your daughter never used to speak this way before she started hanging out with that Leo. I told you--"

"Robin--" Ada's dad tried to cut her off, and she paused, but went ahead.

"I told you that Leo should not be allowed in our house." And she left the room without looking at Ada.

Ada's dad eyed her. He let her sit for a minute, before saying, "She doesn't mean that."

"Oh," Ada said in a shaky voice, "she does. It's the politeness she showed him--that's the part she didn't mean." She sat and cried silently. "You know," she said finally, "mom is really one of a kind. She's so precise. She pointed due east."

Her father tilted his head. "When she pointed," Ada explained. "she pointed exactly at Leo's house. I bet she wasn't two degrees off." She laughed between catches of her breath. 

Her dad started to laugh too. Ada looked at him, finally. She smiled.

"It's hard to see you cry," he said.

"And yet you want to take me away from all of my friends."

He took a deep breath. "How do you know what the Fields Medal is?"

Ada rolled her eyes and gestured to the doorway, that her mother had just walked out of. She stood to leave. "This isn't over," she said. "I am not leaving Bob Moses."

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> Ada's parents want to buy a house


On Sunday, Ada's parents surprised her by saying they were all going to drive to a nearby suburb, Belmont, "to see a house". 

"To see a house?" Ada was taken aback. "Are you talking about buying a house, and moving?"

Her parents looked at each other. "We're early in the process," her father explained. "Nothing is for certain at this point. We just want you to take a look at it with us."

Ada turned to her mother. "Can you even drive there? Aren't you under house arrest?" As soon as she said it, it sounded too harsh to her, but she was a little mad, and didn't feel like apologizing.

Her mother took a breath. Ada's father gave her a look, but she didn't look back. "Yes, I am." She settled in her chair, and arched her back a little to sit up straighter. "I have permission to leave for this, just like going to the supermarket—"

Ada cut her off. "—where you're not even allowed to use a credit card machine, because it's 'the internet'."

"Yes, Ada. I understand that you are upset about this, and again, I'm sorry for the trouble I've brought on our family. But please do not be rude to me. It doesn't become you, it's lazy, and I do not deserve it." Ada was aware that her mother was not casting her eyes down in shame—she was staring Ada right in the eye. She looked regal, queenly. Ada felt jealous, not for the first time. She loved her mother, but she didn't feel like her. Why did her mother always know what to say and do—why did she always seem so assured, even when she was talking about a mistake so huge that Ada would never forgive her?

Her father cleared his throat. "I think a change of scenery might be good for all of us. And if your mother is going to be spending so much time in the house... well, maybe it makes sense to have some more house."

Ada considered this. And then she did something she hadn't done before—she decided to pretend she had her mother's clarity about what she wanted, and deserved. "I'll come," she said offered, "but I want to establish an agreement first." She felt a pang of panic—that she was acting too selfish—but she decided to trust herself to push ahead. "Our house here is close to my friends. It's close to school. I can walk places. If I say no to moving—even if both of you, and Caroline, want to move, and I'm alone—we won't move."

Her father started, "Ada—" but her mother held up a hand to assuage him. "Agreed," she said. "I appreciate your making your case by articulating it clearly." She smiled. "Someone raised you well."

Ada frowned. She was getting her way, so why did she feel like she was losing, somehow? "Sometimes," she grumbled as she went to her room, "it feels like I had to raise myself."

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> Students pull a Ferris Bueller, sneak out of personalized crappy software session to attack termites with salamanders

"You'll see," Mr. Hickenlooper announced, his finger wagging, "this personalized learning thing is really going to work perfectly, for each and every one of you. If you'll just behave and engage with it. So when I check your progress--" this part, he growled at the students--"I'd better see each and every one of you advancing on your key metrics!" And with that, he slammed the door shut behind him with a flourish. Ada glanced at Leo, who returned the flicker of a grin; this was the same door that Elmer had been forbidden--by Mr. Hickenlooper--to fix, as he hid from the chaos during recess. When the door gave a 'click', then a 'sproing' and bounced right back open, they weren't surprised. But Mr. Hickenlooper was. He tried again, issuing a token "Harrumph!" as he slammed it shut once more. This time, all ears in the room were listening with rapt attention as the door latch issued its 'click' and the hinges made their 'sproing', and all eyes were on Mr. Hickenlooper's face as it instantly reappeared His flourish deflated, he stared at the door, then slicked back his hair, spun on his heels, and was gone.

"One," Leo said aloud. "Two," said Miranda. "Three," added Elmer in a soft voice. Ada and Leo turned to him, eyebrows raised.

"What?" Elmer said, unable to suppress a sheepish grin. "I was listening to you guys making your plan. I like it."

Leo looked over at Ada, then back at Elmer. "Well, Elmer," he said, "that just about triples the chance that this is going to work." Then Leo spun his chair around, and stopped sharp when he was lined up with Miranda. "Well?" he asked aloud. "Everyone ready?"

The students all rose to their feet, minding the linger Ada had put to her lips to indicate for them to keep it quiet.

Miranda rose. "When everyone's gone," she explained to Elmer, "I'll be going around the room, clicking everyone's choices in the software as fast as I can."

DJ piped up. "But won't you get the questions wrong?"

Leo chuckled. "That's the thing about Mr. Hickenlooper--"

Elmer jumped in and finished his sentence: "--he doesn't care if we learn anything."

Ada and Leo both chuckled at that. "Elmer," Ada said, "I didn't think you had all this in you!"

Elmer shook his head. "I saw his presentation to the school committee. A Sharpe ratio of four!? There's no way that analysis was real."

Ada nodded. "And as long as the output of his system is garbage--"

Elmer finished her sentence too: "--it doesn't matter if the input is garbage, too."


> next: students sneak into boiler room, find wooden beams riddled with termites, not detected by Hickenlooper's nephew's overpaid company; they take out Sal and Mandy, and they leap onto the beams and start feasting...

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> Chapter: Unplugged Arcade


Ada and Leo strolled through the concrete schoolyard, now covered in all sorts of elaborate wooden structures. Each was an arcade game, in the sense of old-time carnivals: ring tosses, squirt gun aiming, darts and balloons to pop, rickety go-karts, whack-a-mole using puppets. Each had been handmade by the fifth graders, two or three to a team. The games were swarmed by first graders and kindergarteners, throwing and squirting and shrieking and jumping and whacking and laughing. 

They were standing near a rocketship simulator (the "simulation" was just that the wooden rocket, with a kindergarten boy inside, was being carried by three fifth-grade girls making whooshing noises), when Leo asked, "What's that sound?" 

Ada heard it too. A beeping? She looked around. And her heart skipped a beat. There were a dozen public works employees milling on the sidewalk, directing two dump trucks as they backed into the schoolyard. And in front of them, on a megaphone, was Mr. Hickenlooper. "This fire hazard has been condemned by the department of public works," he shouted into the loudspeaker, as the kindergarten and first grade teachers began to rush around, collecting their kids. Where was the principal, Ms. Henri?

A few of the fifth graders started to pick up their projects, but Mr. Hickenlooper pointed public works guys towards them and they grabbed the projects out of their hands, and dragged them towards the trucks. "It isn't safe to handle these structures, kids," he shouted after them, as they stumbled back in disbelief, wrestling with the garbagemen, calling and waving in distress as their work of the last three weeks was tossed unceremoniously into the truck.

Ada couldn't believe what was happening, and she couldn't think straight enough to even mount resistance. Within the space of ten minutes, the whole fair was wrecked. The yard was strewn with fragments of painted wood, ping pong balls, broken glass, abandoned prize tickets, and the occasional plastic squirt gun. She was dimly aware that Leo was following after various people and shouting at them, to no effect. She should be shouting, too. But she just felt empty inside.


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> Hickenlooper goes to the beach with fam

Scott Hickenlooper looked over the draft report on the city's school reform efforts one last time, his eye lingering on the charts on Bob Moses Elementary. Things were not going according to plan—scores should have tanked by now, which would put enough pressure on the superintendent to force her to sign the contract for automated assignments from Rote-o-Matic, the company he had founded. 

"Honey," Mary called nervously from downstairs, "the kids are in the car, and I told my sister we'd be there a half hour ago—"

"I'm coming!" he shouted back. And under his breath, he added, "Pardon me if I actually earn some money around here." But he really was done, or as done as he was going to be. He closed his laptop, threw it in his messenger bag, trudged downstairs, locked up, and walked to the car. His boys, who had been horsing around in the backseat, settled down a bit as he approached, got in the car, and turned it on. They kept things under control on the drive to the coast, as well, and let him listen to his Cat Stevens, and even sung along to one or two of the songs, which made him happy.

Once they were there, he set up a folding chair under the umbrella and read a new bestseller about how classical art holds the secrets of innovation, while his kids ran and splashed up and down the beach. From time to time, he walked to the water, swam a few laps to cool off, then came back, got a drink from the cooler, and resumed his book.

Peter ran up to get a coke, and started to run off. Then he paused, and walked back to the edge of the towel. "Hey daddy," he said, trying to keep his eyes on Scott's face, but mostly looking over at Mary. "Would you maybe play rockball with us?" Scott looked up and smiled. "Henry made it up," Peter continued, letting out a laugh, "it's crazy. We play with all the rocks we're finding."

Scott was about to say, "I hope you aren't throwing rocks," but he took a moment, and instead agreed to play. In minutes he was chasing the boys around, picking them up, and making them laugh hysterically. Rockball was as dangerous as he suspected, but he let Henry teach him (he seemed to be making up rules on the spot), and they played all sorts of games for the next hour.


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> Chapter: Science fair (Hickenlooper is moved)


Mr. Hickenlooper sauntered over to Abby's project, and eyed its red second place ribbon. Abby was standing by her project, beaming, but her grin turned rigid and forced when she saw him on his way.

He pecked at the keys on the keyboard for a bit, frowning. "This isn't a science project at all," he complained. "It's a creative writing project. Wrong subject, Abby."

Ada was watching this unfold from the corner of her eye, and took a step towards Abby to intervene. Leo grabbed her arm, saying "No, Ada–" and she pulled her arm out of his grip.

"Don't do that," she snapped at him. 

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," he said. He looked her in the eye. "I won't grab you, I'm sorry. But Abby's got this." They looked over at Abby, who was looking daggers at them, silently pleading with Ada to rescue her. Ada shook her head subtly and smiled.

Abby started to speak, but her voice shook and cracked, and she stopped to catch her breath.

"You got this," she mouthed. She hoped it was true. She tried to visualize sending Abby warmth and strength, and Abby seemed to receive this.

"Actually," Abby said loudly, her voice carrying through the gym, "this very much is a science project. You see, the story takes place at the seashore. But it's affected dynamically by the tides."

Mr. Hickenlooper scoffed. "So it's either high tide or low tide, that's it? Two stories?"

"No, no," Abby clarified, and Ada could see her start to settle in. "Everything is affected. And it's not a high or low binary; the story is affected by whatever the current tide level is at Crane's beach. Different marine life appear near the shore; the water temperature adjusts; the sandpiper birds appear and disappear, because the creatures they feed on are only present as the tide goes out. There's even a razor clam zone where bubbles form when the tide is right, and seagulls appear to look for them and dig for them with their beaks."

As she spoke, Mr. Hickenlooper typed actions and other questions into her program, and said nothing. Finally, he said, simply, "Really? Your program does all that?" And Abby felt relief flood her. And then he said the kicker: "How?"

She spent the next twenty minutes explaining her tidal model to him, and all of the different variables that rose and fell with the tides.


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> Climax: public works guys have repaired the unplugged arcade, with help from the high schoolers; stampede of salamanders emerges from the basement, to the delight of the prestigious biologist visiting, who Hickenlooper wanted a rubber stamp from

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