“You’re welcome.” A warmth spread across Maddie’s chest. “I’ll explain next time, but trust me, that’s a much better fandom to be a part of anyway.”

Sadie dropped the bag and flung herself at Maddie, giving her a hug that threw her off balance—in every way. Especially when she found how hard she was hugging back.

After walking Sadie to her mom’s car, Maddie unearthed her four-leaf clover and squeezed. She’d given up a lot for Danny—and she didn’t regret it one bit.

She waved goodbye and started back toward the dorms. Ryan, Emma, Lucy, Pulse, the 10s all looped in her mind. Over and over, something there but not there. Like the 10s. Surface. Fake.

She increased her pace and texted Lucy: Pulse. It’s not right. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not right.

Lucy: Sure, because Ryan runs it.

Maddie: It’s more than that.

Lucy’s text crossed Maddie’s: Because Ryan’s an ass.

Maddie added: And sexist.

Lucy: And manipulative.

Maddie: And will do anything to win.

Lucy: Like me.

Lucy: It’s okay, it’s true.

Maddie: Was true.

Lucy sent a heart. Then ten. Then a gagging emoji.

Lucy: He flaunts it. On the first day, remember? Joking that my low Pulse must be because of a glitch in the code.

Lucy: He’s the glitch.

He’s the glitch, Maddie thought. Pulse is his. The leader sets the tone. Everyone follows the leader. The leader who’s a sexist, manipulative, predatory, juvenile ass.

Her thoughts were so rapid fire, she couldn’t type fast enough: What if he wasn’t joking?

Maddie: What if there’s an actual glitch in the code?

Maddie: What if it’s not by accident?

Lucy: What are you thinking?

Maddie: Not sure. But all the 10s are so . . . so perfect.

Lucy: An advertiser’s dream.

Maddie: Right.

Maddie: Like it’s designed that way. Manipulated to be that way.

Maddie: Do you think

Lucy: He’s

Maddie: His whole company

Lucy: Is a crock.

Maddie: Is a crock.

Their texts crossed at the same time as they both crashed into something.

Each other.

Maddie pushed herself off Lucy, rubbing her wrist, which had collided with Lucy’s nose. Lucy pinched the bridge of it and jiggled her head.

They faced each other, silently piecing it all together.

Lucy spoke first. “We need—”

“Delia,” Maddie finished.

TWENTY–SEVEN

BOOTSTRAPPING • Reinvesting initial profits as the sole method of funding a company, i.e., “pulling yourself up by your bootstraps”

DELIA CRAWLED INTO BED. She’d called in sick. All it took was two steps inside the student center and a glimpse of Eric’s light brown hair shielding his face as he hunkered over a keyboard, prying off a letter to clean out the caramel mocha latte, bison burger, or pot brownie crumbs stuck underneath, and she knew she couldn’t do it.