“Perfect,” Lucy said in a voice too shrill. She ran her hand through her hair, cringing when it came away sticky and purple. Hour seven was when the jelly donut fiasco had occurred. She’d told Delia it was fine.

It wasn’t.

“Have you seen that dude Gavin’s app? He’s using Swift. Even I learned something today.” He mouthed, “just kidding,” and flashed a grin. “His teammates sure hit the lottery.”

Lucy would have never imagined wanting to be paired with Gavin. Until now.

“Delia’s using Python,” Maddie said.

“I told her not to,” Lucy said.

“I told you not to tell her what to do,” Maddie said.

“Somebody has to push the schedule forward. We only have five weeks.”

“Don’t remind me.”

By the time Lucy realized Ryan was inching backward, he was almost out of reach. And then Delia popped up and spun her computer around. “Look!” she cried.

“Lit” flew onto the screen, light bulbs flicking on around the word like an old Hollywood dressing room mirror. All three girls stared as each bulb fizzled out, along with Lucy’s hope of a Pulse internship.

“This is all your fault,” Maddie hissed.

“Me?” Lucy said. “I told her not to use Python.”

“Along with a million other instructions. You’re micromanaging us both, while you sit there and do what? Paint your nails?”

Lucy’s face flamed. She’d fixed one chipped nail. One. “At least I care about what we’re doing.”

“Yeah, your passion for ‘hottie havens’ is inspiring.”

“Stop,” came Delia’s barely audible plea, but Lucy and Maddie continued spitting blame at each other until finally Delia slammed her laptop shut, clutched it to her chest, and bolted out of the room.

Everyone was staring at them. Snickering came from Gavin’s direction. But the only thing that threatened to steal Stanford from Lucy was the pitying look on Ryan’s face.

She plastered on a smile, smoothed her hair, and said, “So, Ryan. Can I ask . . . do you have any pets?”

EIGHT

RIDESHARING TENSION • The discomfort experienced by carpoolers who feel an obligation to chat with fellow riders

MADDIE PARKED HERSELF AT breakfast with a plate of zucchini-flour pancakes, which seemed as ill-conceived as her decision to come here. She’d steered clear of the cereal station, but it didn’t make her miss Danny any less.

Delia was already under the scratchy comforter when Maddie and Lucy had returned to the dorm last night.

After Delia had peeled out of the hackathon, Lucy’s face paled and she flattened her hands on the table. Maddie shut her laptop and opened her bag, figuring Lucy’s own sprint from the room was imminent. And then she saw Lucy’s hands ball up tight.