I think about George, also going with Hannah to see the lights, and I frown.
“You could totally come with us,” Izzy adds, misreading my expression. She tilts her head, making her pleading eyes at me. I used to feel guilty saying no when she made that face, but now that I haven’t seen it in months, it’s not affecting me as much. I hate the mall, and I don’t much love Christmas lights, either.
I shake my head. “No, you go ahead without me. I have to study for midterms, anyway.”
Izzy frowns but she doesn’t press me like she used to. Instead, she just says, “Are you sure, Em?” I nod and then she shrugs and lets it go.
* * *
I probably should study for midterms, but we’ve been reviewing during all my classes for the last week. So truthfully, I’m already pretty prepared. Instead, I take out my notebook with the emails from lunch today, and I FaceTime Jane. We’ve been on FaceTime together all week, tracking whom we are sending the app to and how many downloads we get.
“I heard you got twenty-five people today,” I say when she answers. Her face fills the screen. Home Jane—Jane without a lab coat, with her long black hair up in a messy bun—always looks entirely different to me than school Jane, who is quiet, precise, protected. I like home Jane, because she seems more honest, more unfiltered, more like me.
“Yeah, twenty-four actually,” she says now, scanning her notebook with her eyes. “How’d you do?”
I scan down the list quickly counting. “Nineteen.”
She turns her eyes away from me, to her laptop. “From the twenty we added yesterday, thirteen have downloaded the app and twelve have gone in and made matches. I just sent that info off to Sam. He and Robert are going to follow up with those people tomorrow. And George and Hannah and I will continue to add names at lunch, too.”
When she mentions George and Hannah, I think about their date to see the lights at the mall tonight, and tell Jane about it.
“They are definitely a good match,” she says.
“Yeah,” I agree half-heartedly. “I guess so.”
“Actually, Sam told me he and Laura are going to see the lights tonight, too,” she says. “I guess that’s like the thing to do when you’re dating someone around Christmastime in Highbury.” She raises her eyebrows, and maybe she thinks it’s as ridiculous as I do. I fail to see the romance in electricity—instead, I think about the science, all the wasted kilowatts and energy. “You know,” she says. “Maybe we can use this?” I guess I’ve read her eyebrow raise completely wrong.
“Use this how?”
“We could go over there tonight, too, see how our matches are working out firsthand. Observational data. It’ll be more accurate than what Sam and Robert get interviewing people at lunch tomorrow.”
As much as I’m not dying to go see the Christmas lights, it’s not a terrible idea. But Izzy took the car to go with John, and they already left without me. Dad went to have dinner with an old college friend who’s in town. I tell Jane I can’t go because I have no way to get there, and I feel relief that I still have an excuse, a way out of it. Because the thought of the crowds and the lights, and watching George and Hannah holding hands—or kissing—sounds awful to me.
“It’s no problem at all,” she says. “I’ll pick you up in an hour.” And then she disconnects from FaceTime before I have a chance to say anything else.
Chapter 22
Izzy spots me the moment Jane and I walk up to the lights display entrance, like she has some kind of weird radar that allows her to hone in on me, wherever I go.
I haven’t been to see the lights here since we were kids, and Dad used to take us, and all I remember is that there are displays surrounding the entire outside of the mall parking lot—cartoon characters, and Christmas trees, and reindeer, all made out of Christmas lights. There’s some school choir caroling tonight, too, singing “Silent Night” a little off-key as we approach. It’s a pretty mild night for December, but it’s overly bright and too loud out here, and it smells so strongly of pine and cinnamon I sneeze.
“Em!” Izzy shouts, and waves for me to join her and John, who are standing in front of the tall, lit-up tree, perhaps unsurprisingly with George and Hannah. George turns at the sound of my name, and shoots me a confused glance.
“Oh, hey! Emma’s here,” Hannah calls out, causing Izzy to whip around with surprise, like she can’t believe someone else would actually notice my presence, aside from her. I sigh and walk toward them, Jane following close behind me.
“I thought you had to study?” Izzy lets go of John, grabs me in a half hug.
“I’ll study later,” I say, noncommittal. Izzy frowns, knowing this is not like me. Or not like the Emma she used to know last year, anyway.
“Who’s this?” she asks, taking in Jane’s lab coat and arching her eyebrows a little.
“This is my friend Jane, from coding club,” I say. “We’re going to walk around. We’ll catch up with you later.”
I grab Jane’s arm and walk to the other side of the crowd, practically dragging her, as much to get away from Izzy’s questions as from George’s weird stare. I suppose we could’ve asked Hannah and George to help us gather data, but they’re here on a date. I noticed they were holding hands, both smiling. They’re the exact kind of data we’re hoping to collect. And maybe Jane is right. Maybe they really are good together. Only more proof my algorithm is working, so I’m not sure why that thought bothers me so much.
“You’re lucky to have a sister,” Jane is saying now as we walk. “I hate being an only child.”
“Yeah, I know. I am lucky.” I suddenly feel a little bad I wasn’t nicer back there with Izzy. “But Iz and I are so different, and I guess I just kind of got used to being by myself more when she was away at college this fall.”
“I get that,” Jane says. “I remember her last year at school. She was on the dance team and the lead in Hello, Dolly!, wasn’t she?”
“Yep,” I say. “She’s super talented and awesome, and has always had a ton of friends.”
“Ugh,” Jane says. “Gross.” She laughs, and I know she’s kidding. Kind of. “Seriously, though, I don’t get people who feel like they belong in high school. You’re lucky,” she says again, sounding a little more bitter this time. “Six months and you’re done. You’ll be off in Palo Alto next year.”
“Maybe,” I say. The closer it gets to the application due date, the more I think about the math, the small percentage of people who apply to Stanford who actually get in. And the more I doubt that I might be one of those people. I’m also applying for a scholarship Ms. Taylor recently found for me at Carnegie Mellon, which she thinks I have a better shot at. And I’m applying to Rutgers and Penn State as backup schools. “I’ll be in Palo Alto, if I get accepted,” I say to Jane now.