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Screen Queens

Lori Goldstein
Chapters (45)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Pulse
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY–ONE
  25. TWENTY–TWO
  26. TWENTY–THREE
  27. TWENTY–FOUR
  28. TWENTY–FIVE
  29. TWENTY–SIX
  30. TWENTY–SEVEN
  31. TWENTY–EIGHT
  32. TWENTY–NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY–ONE
  35. THIRTY–TWO
  36. THIRTY–THREE
  37. THIRTY–FOUR
  38. THIRTY–FIVE
  39. THIRTY–SIX
  40. THIRTY–SEVEN
  41. THIRTY–EIGHT
  42. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  43. RESOURCES
  44. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  45. What’s next onyour reading list?

Cover

Cover for Screen Queens

Dedication

For Marc, for making me believe in moonshots

Pulse

ONE

VALLEY OPTIMISTIC • Silicon Valley’s belief in new tech or ideas that engender doubt from those in the outside world

♥♥♥♥

FOUR. STILL. ONLY FOUR.

Lucy shifted in the hard wooden chair across from her mom’s desk and clutched her phone tighter. She swiped up and down with such force that her Caribbean Blue Baby fingernails would have scratched the glass had she not been diligent about using a screen protector.

Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Snapchat, Facebook . . . Swipe, swipe, swipe. The likes, favorites, followers, friends . . . she had enough. Enough for her ranking on the Pulse app to be higher than four.

Four?

Swipe, swipe, swipe, swipe.

The pink plastic bracelet the bouncer had secured around Lucy’s wrist danced up and down the same way she had last night, after name-dropping her way into the hottest new club in San Francisco’s Tenderloin District. The fact that she didn’t actually know Ryan Thompson, founder of Pulse, was a technicality that would soon be remedied.

Her OUR FINGERS ARE ON THE PULSE tee only given to Pulse employees opened doors closed even to most of Silicon Valley’s elite. She’d snagged it from a hipster-preneur six months ago at a party in Fremont. He was so busy claiming he left Pulse of his own accord (uh-huh) because his eco-friendly (read: nonprofitable) idea was going to change the world (i.e., drain his bank account) that he scarcely knew what he’d lost. All it took was a deftly spilled cocktail, an exorbitant dry cleaning bill, and Lucy’s favorite tank (note: pomegranate margaritas don’t come out of silk), but it was worth it.

Soon she’d have one of her own.

And she’d no longer be a 4.

♥♥♥♥

Really?

The likes on her Instagram story from last night alone should have bumped her up to a 5. Thumping. But here she sat. Still at 4. Still Thudding.

She stared at the string of hearts on her Pulse profile, knowing that, somehow, this was all because she was wait-listed at Stanford.

And that, Lucy knew the exact “how” of: Gavin Cox.

Freaking Gavin Cox.

She shouldn’t have done it, but her blue fingernail moved on its own, navigating to his profile.

Level 6. Throbbing. Gavin Cox was Throbbing and she was Thudding. If only she possessed a male member and a wingspan like Michael Phelps, she’d be Throbbing too. But now that high school was over, winning state would no longer be a crutch for Gavin, and his Pulse would plummet. He’d be lucky to be Beating—a measly 3.

Lucy was tempted to knock her mom’s expansive cherrywood desk. But Lucy Katz didn’t believe in luck. Lucy Katz didn’t hope. Lucy Katz didn’t dream. Lucy Katz did.

She knew what she wanted.

And it wasn’t this.