text: We didn't find our thief that day, or for the next entire week. Which wasn't for lack of trying, just for lack of time. Between classes, after school, and even before school can be summed up in one word: robotics.
  
  Since the night the challenge dropped, things have been moving at lightning speed. We do not have a lot of time and there is a ton of stuff to be done.
  
  I am rather chuffed (so love that word; it's somehow "puffier" than just the old "I'm rather pleased," and yet still falls, just barely, but nonetheless under the level of overly obnoxious braggadociousness) that our table's design was deemed the better choice, and the assembling of the robot actually came together pretty seamlessly.
  
  And in one of those shocking twists I would never have seen coming, Imani volunteered to be the Chief of Construction, responsible for building our entire practice run. In order to compete, we need to know our robot can perform all the required tasks and then we tweak for time, accuracy, etc. Since each year's task is completely different, new "sets" are always required and mostly need to be scavenged from previous years and anything else that can be scavenged up. Well, all the years of theater gave Imani more blueprint/painting/hammering/building-to-spec experience than most of the shop peeps, and, we got the added bonus of her having an experienced crew she could cajole into helping, along with "flats" galore for repurposing.
  
  It also gave us two additional mentors, Pops aka Mr. Rabon, one of the school's part-time shop/part-time aide teachers and Ms. Bessette, the drama/art teacher.
  
  Which is all great stuff.
  
  Now, not because I was thinking train wreck around the curve or anything, but you know, I did sneak into her first team meeting, because, well, just because, which is how I not-so-accidentally stumbled upon what might secretly become my favorite part of this exercise. Imani's previously well-kept secret, known only to her besties, is now officially out of the box and known by all. And no, not her math woes. Everyone already knows about those. What everyone doesn't know is that underneath all that charm Imani hides an incredibly, and occasionally savage, bossy streak.
  
  There is a reason she is the prima donna.
  
  "Listen up, people." Imani is strutting back and forth in front of her crew, having gathered them in a section of the grandstands that line the gym. "There are six weeks until the curtain goes up and we debut our competition robot. That means we need to be in full dress rehearsals, every set ready and operable, in less than four weeks. If you are not in a class and you are not sleeping, you are building. Understood?"
  
  I know she thinks actress, but she is destined to become a director. Not incompatible.
  
  "First up, I want black tape down on the floor marking the arcade field. Make sure it is exact. After that we will get to marking off the scale, the alliance wall, the fence, etc., each in their own color." Imani pauses and reaches down into a canvas tote bag. "See this book?" She holds up a black loose-leaf binder. "When you finish taping a section, write down the color tape and the exact measurement you used. And then," pause, "you initial it."
  
  I can see the "what did I get myself into" reactions growing, so before I actually burst out laughing, I'm thinking— one, I need to get out of here now, before she spots me and there is hell to pay, two, whatever you do, people, do yourselves a favor and do not let her have the walkie-talkies or even worse, the megaphone, and three, you know, Imani-in-charge really rocks those coveralls, construction boots, and tool belt. Totally sexy on her.
  
  Um, hello! I am her lesbian best friend. It is my absolute duty to notice.
  
  And with that happy-making thought, slipping away, I spot The Flynn backing out a different door and heading down the hallway.
  
  He turns, sees me. I shrug. He nods. Then he tilts his head toward the door he's just backed out of and I nod, acknowledging my own complicity, allowing him the eye roll of "wow." I screw my face up with that "oh yeah, I know, not pretty" look and nod.
  
  And as we body-language chat, Jimmy walks his way over to me with, suddenly, something. Maybe intent. Maybe he's walking with intent. Or maybe just seriousness. You know, Flynn with no trademark smirk seems wrong. I resist my sudden urge to take a step back while running my hand through my hair.
  
  "Hey Sid?"
  
  "Yeah?"
  
  Jimmy fidgets about, and I realize, whatever it is, he's nervous. Which of course, to me, means I should be nervous. So by now, I really just want to scream, "spit it out," but I don't. I wait.
  
  And now, pushing himself from the wall back to in front of me, with one big exhale, Jimmy finally begins. "Look, I'm not sure the best way to say this, so I'm just gonna put it out there. I miss you. I mean football season was always crazy, but now I also have a girlfriend. And don't get me wrong, I like having a girlfriend, it's great. I mean, she's great." Unconscious brief pause for a smile. "Look, I don't have to tell you that." Jimmy stops the rush of words, takes a deep breath, and gets to his point. "But I miss hanging with just you sometimes."
  
  I look at Jimmy, who's once again standing tall. His half-grin is back, but unaccompanied by a smirk, and I feel what he's just said flow right through me. And I realize it's everything. It's even things I didn't know.
  
  I feel the corners of my mouth turning up. "The glowing owls?"
  
  This makes Jimmy's smile go full on. The glowing owls are in Herald Square, and when we were younger, it was such a big deal to see them. It meant we were out "after dark." He nods. "It's a date."
  
  And with that we head off, each to officially report we have sneak previewed the beginning of what will soon be a fully operational mock course. Unofficially, and without a need to report, Flynn and I have also sneak previewed our future. Pursuing the balance that will keep us OB's, "Original Besties," as life keeps happening. It's a very grown-up moment.
  
  But I digress. Rather happily.
  
  During which time, Imani's triumphant return-to-the-stagehand, as she likes to call it, unexpectedly freed up Marcus, allowing him to focus and drill down on executing the business and marketing plans, a separation of tasks that seemed to make Jimmy very happy, Vikram, not so much.
  
  Because, while I thought for sure Ari would wind up working on the spirit side of the endeavor, if not becoming the Spirit Leader, in the second twist of the twists I didn't see coming, she chose to work on the business committee, that same committee headed by Marcus.
  
  I vaguely remember Ari looking at a slightly perturbed Vik and muttering something about "if I'm doing it for the college resume, I might as well make it count."
  
  Didn't seem to particularly mollify Vikram. If you recall, I did mention Marcus's near-mythic ability to flirt.
  
  So there were two twists. But as we all know, the old rule of three requires there to be one more twist I didn't see coming. And it is the biggest shocker of all.
  
  The twincesses actually split up. And I mean split up. Mae Lee went and joined the spirit squad, which of and by itself has to be the most random thing ever, and, get ready for it, they, the twincesses, even came to school in non-matching outfits.
  
  I know!
  
  And they weren't even non-matching but still sort of close. No. They were pink miniskirt and white boots with heels versus slime-lime jeans and high tops. Whether by design or not, there was no way you could miss this momentous occasion even if you tried. And if by any chance I was too dense, or too oblivious, or too so-not-interested (!) to take note, Janelle apparently considered it a public service to make sure everyone, myself included, is up to speed on this extraordinary occurrence.
  
  Which is fine. But what bothers me is what I don't know, and I am definitely not asking, which is "are we to file this under 'miracles still happen' or 'something wicked this way comes'?" Either way, I felt a need to check my horoscope, and run a quick search on all doomsday prophecies I could find. So far, nothing seems too imminent.
  
  I'm sure if that changes, I will know soon enough.
  
  Until then, we are sitting here, in the science lab, working as fast as we can to get our bots up and running at whatever their optimal level will be. Which means I am frantically writing and rewriting code with the two people who you might remember give me a case of the yips, Scott and Mae Ann.
  
  If I was Shakespeare and I had a petard, it would so be hoisted.
  
  But surprisingly, in some ways this is better, and not surprisingly in some ways worse, than I imagined.
  
  When we are in the midst of coding, it's all pretty good and generally, even funny, in a geek-tech paradise kind of way. Like Scott saying, "use a foo," or when the three of us began singing, "Ninety-nine little bugs in the code, ninety-nine little bugs ...you fix one bug, compile again ...one-hundred little bugs in the code."
  
  And it's great. This camaraderie. This no holding back, nerds are we, skillfest.
  
  Until I realize I am leaning over Scott's shoulder and Mae Ann is sitting just a tad too close and then, well, I heebie-jeebie all over again. Blech.
  
  I am ashamed to admit, I sometimes worry if I let my guard down with them, my very fragile, borderline cred will take a hit. I know. I said I am ashamed. But sometimes high school is hard.
  
  However, awkward alliance or not, we are in it to win it, and progress we are making. With Jimmy, Trey and a bunch of the guys at practice, and Marcus off with the business gang building a marketing plan and soliciting industry partners and sponsors, Vikram is who we currently enlist to drive our alpha bot. And when you're coding things like "move forward an inch," he's as perfectly capable as the next guy.
  
  So our first key mission is trying to grab a power cube from the floor. This entire arcade is built around power cubes, and our efficiency with them will be key.
  
  So first the manipulator must lower into position:
  
  protected void execute() {
  
   Robot.cube.Manipulator.deploy.set(Value.kForward);
  
  }
  
  We look up. And nothing.
  
  Vik looks over at the three of us, we look at each other. Look at the code. And there, staring back at us, is the one dot too many. If it could scream out neener neener neener, it would. Scott makes the adjustment and:
  
  protected void execute() {
  
   Robot.cubeManipulator.deploy.set(Value.kForward);
  
  }
  
  You know, it occurs to me as I am sharing this with you, for my non-coding friends, this might sound painful. But it isn't. It's magical. I mean, think about it. We are taking a line of words and squiggles, and with them we control the ability of a machine to do exactly what we want it to.
  
  There's a programmer's joke that says an algorithm is a word used by programmers when they do not want to explain what they did. I don't buy that. I just think what we do is hold the ability to fly in our fingertips. It's really pretty freaking awesome.
  
  And it would be even faster and even more awesome, not to mention way more accurate, if I didn't keep making Scott sit like, two feet away from me at all times. And I kind of feel bad about that. It's not like he's done anything wrong, and he can really code, but some icks are harder to get over than others. And I am doing the best I can. Hey, a few years ago I literally would have made him wear gloves.
  
  protected void execute() {
  
  Okay, where were we? Right. Now we need to get the cube to move inside. Not quite as glamorous as flying, but so it goes ...abracadabra ...cube into manipulator ...
  
   Robot.gearManipulator.intake.set(1);
  
  ...Scott types it in. I signal a thumbs up to Vikram. And yes, high fives all around, we are starting to build some rhythm here.