Delia nodded. “And . . .” She sucked in a breath and felt Lucy tighten the hold on her forearm. “I-I know what we’re up against, all these kids who had so much more than me, who started at these types of summer camps like Lucy, so I’ll understand if you want to still split up, it’s just . . . did you see how few girls were in that day camp?”

“Yeah,” Maddie said. “I did.”

“Me too,” Lucy said.

“First all-girls team . . .” Delia started.

“To win,” Lucy said.

“Sounds pretty unicorn-y to me.” Maddie’s face was unreadable, and then her freckles lifted as she grinned. Delia was pretty sure it was the first time she’d seen her smile around Lucy.

“Going on record that I want that horn though,” Maddie added. “Better to ram up Gavin Cox’s—”

“Aha, yes, no need for visuals,” Lucy said. “But I for one think that’s a brilliant idea.”

They all laughed, and Delia realized how much weight she’d been carrying, about their team, about staying in the program, about not getting to go to work anymore. Because she just loved heating up Hot Pockets.

Uh-huh.

It had nothing to do with a certain boy.

Nothing at all.

They spent the rest of the walk talking about their ideas for Lit. Lucy even let Delia speak some of the time. Though when Delia questioned if they really needed a “sticky floor” rating, Lucy chuckled.

“Delia, I think you need to see—and feel—the inside of a club.”

“Like research? For work?” Maddie said.

“And play.” Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Fortunately, Ryan Thompson and I think alike. Next weekend’s field trip? Who’s in for a recon bonding night?”

TEN

THE DAVE RATIO • The gender imbalance in startups and tech, where the number of Daves is often greater than or equal to the number of women

THE MUSCLES IN LUCY’S arms quivered, but she gripped the handle tighter. It had been nearly an hour, and she wasn’t giving up now.

“Hold on,” Lucy said as she tugged the hair straightener through Delia’s surprisingly resilient curls. “We’re nearly there.”

“I appreciate this, I do,” Delia said, recrossing her legs for the zillionth time. “It’s just . . . that was a lot of matcha. Delicious-you were right about the tea-but just . . . a lot.”

“The grande colossal. Your body’s flying so high on antioxidants it’s devouring free radicals like Maddie eats zucchini-flour pancakes.”

“Who would have thought?” Delia said.

“I know,” Lucy said. “Every morning this week.”

“She even saved some for lunch.”

“Huh. Maybe this California sunshine is finally starting to thaw our dear Madeline.”

Delia simply crossed her legs—again.