The Boyfriend App (9 page)

One hundred thirty-two more days.

Lindsay and I argued over the wording of my Twitter bio (I wanted:
Audrey McCarthy’s Public Mobile Application Contest Entry.
Lindsay wanted:
Make Love on your buyPhone
) until we finally compromised on:
Find Love with Audrey McCarthy’s Debut Mobile Application: The Boyfriend App!
We entered a URL linking my entry on Public’s website for download.

Lindsay wouldn’t talk about what happened at lunch between her and Nigit. “Only time will tell if your app is legit,” she said instead, dismissing me with a wave.

She took off to get ready at her house and I stared at Hector the Computer. Something felt off during Xander’s tutoring session. It was like he didn’t really need tutoring.

My fingers itched to hack and figure it out. There’s a known flaw in Harrison’s website code involving the login authentication, which I could exploit, thereby able to dump the database and search Xander’s first-semester chemistry scores to find out what was really going on. Whether he was faking it.

I know how bad that sounds. But I didn’t buy that Xander didn’t get ionic bonds. When I’d said
table salt
, he’d jumped right in with
sodium and chloride
.

And I remembered him being smart freshman year, when we still used to talk. It could be a prank. Something Blake roped Xander into. I knew what it was like to be Blake’s number one. Like you were special. Like she chose you.

When she asked you to do something, you did it.

If it
was
a prank, then maybe today was the first stage. It could be something elaborate, some way to embarrass me in front of everyone. And I needed to be prepared before I got my head slammed into another Dumpster.

I stared at Hector for five minutes straight before I gave up. No matter how much I wanted—no, needed—to break in, I couldn’t spy on him like that. Sweat pricked my palms as I pulled up Twitter instead. At least I knew Xander had other motives, ones that probably involved his crew. At least I could be ready.

I cracked open my bedroom window. It was a home football weekend and the sounds of the Notre Dame marching band filtered through the window with bleating trumpets and the
rat-tat-tat
of a snare drum. I logged in to Twitter. Nigit was picking Lindsay up at six, and I prayed he’d gotten rid of the life-sized cardboard cutout of Sephiroth he sometimes drove around with in the backseat.

At 6:14, Lindsay tweeted.

@FashionBcomesMe: with Nigit at Spirit Trade, South Bend’s Premier Religious Memorabilia Shop #FirstDate

Lindsay posted Twitpics of Oriental rugs covering the walls in swirly gold, maroon, and navy. A small Indian man stood behind a long counter. He stared into Lindsay’s camera with a bewildered look on his lined face. Nigit stood next to him, pointing to a glass case of jagged quartz stones and miniature statues.

@FashionBcomesMe: Nigit taught me in Hindu sacred texts Lakshmi has the object of uplifting mankind. Luv her even more.

Nigit held a statue of a female figure with dark hair and flowing red robes. Lindsay captioned the photo:
Lakshmi: Goddess of Abundance. Bringing back the layered look of 2005. Who wears it better? Lakshmi or Kate Hudson? Vote here www.fashionbecomesme.com

I clicked on to Lindsay’s blog, where she’d uploaded side-by-side photos of Lakshmi and Kate Hudson wearing a flowing maroon skirt with a gold bandeau top. Within minutes, hundreds of Lindsay’s followers cast their vote. I wasn’t sure whether to be more surprised about the Hindu deity’s fashion coup or the fact that nearly a thousand of Lindsay’s readers were following her date with Nigit.

@FashionBcomesMe: So cute! Pic.twitter.com/ldwOwTOz

Nigit held a stone Buddha in his arms with a whopping grin on his face. I’d never seen him smile like that. I switched over to
FBM
, where Lindsay posted a photo of her and Nigit making peace signs in front of a small waterfall (the kind you see in a dentist’s office that’s supposed to make you relax, but doesn’t, because
you’re at the dentist
). The camera’s flash made Lindsay’s shimmery gold V-neck glow like she’d caught fire. Nigit’s forest-green button-down was too big for him in the shoulders but he looked nice, like he was trying.

Beneath the photo, comments loaded onto the page faster than I could keep up with.

Jenny96: You two look so cute together!

StyleGuru: Zen waterfall is a spring/summer must-have accessory, right, Lindsay?

GiaGirl: Nigit’s hot. Need more pics.

@FashionBcomesMe: Have no idea where we’re off to now. Nigit’s surprising me!

If Nigit was planning the rest of the date, things could turn. The last time he planned a night out for Mindy, Aidan, and me, we ended up at a low-rent version of Comic-Con, South Bend–style. We had to go home early because Mindy got trampled by a herd of boys dressed in
Dissidia Final Fantasy
costumes and sprained her wrist.

“Audrey?”

I nearly fell off my chair.

“Are you all right?” my mom asked. Tiny crow’s-feet were scattered on the skin around her light eyes, like whiskers. My dad’s XXL Notre Dame football sweatshirt bunched over her arms.

“I’m fine,” I said, fidgeting with the hole in my jeans. I hadn’t told her about the Boyfriend App yet, and I didn’t want to explain why I was following real-time updates of my cousin on a date. That would look even worse than not being on a date myself.

“I thought we could watch
The Bachelorette
,” my mom said. She tucked a brown curl behind her ear.

So, my mom and I tape every season of
The Bachelor
and
The Bachelorette
and watch it religiously. I don’t usually admit this to most people. But I can’t help myself when it comes to reality matchmaking. I love watching the sparks fly between potential boyfriends and girlfriends. I love the passionate kissing. I love how they talk about being vulnerable and taking their relationship to the next level even when they’ve only known each other for three days. And I love the dramatic fights because it usually means they’ll make up with more passionate kissing.

“Um, I’m sort of busy,” I said, cracking my knuckles even though I knew she hated it.

Sometimes the way my mom looked at me made me feel like the only thing she wanted in the world was for me to be okay, which made me feel guilty when I wasn’t okay. “’Bye, Mom,” I said, sounding ruder than I meant. I opened my mouth to tell her we could watch our show tomorrow, but she’d already closed the door.

@FashionBcomesMe: Spoiler alert: we’re headed in the direction of the Golden Dome!

@FashionBcomesMe: On the Notre Dame campus. Exact destination TBA

@FashionBcomesMe: Side note: ND students—are you out there? Y’all need a lesson in Making Fleece Fashionable. Will blog about it this week

Lindsay posted a photo of a beautiful gray brick building I recognized as Dillon Hall: a dorm on Notre Dame’s south quad, where my grandfather—my dad’s dad—worked as a janitor. Cool Daddy Pop-Pop is what Lindsay and I called him until he passed away when we were twelve. I hadn’t been back there since my dad died, but I knew that campus like the back end of Hector the Computer. My dad was smart, like me, but he and his family could barely scrape together the money for Holy Cross, the South Bend community college my dad went to. That didn’t stop him and my grandfather from roaming Notre Dame’s campus for hours on end.

I used to think it was stupid, how he cared so much about something he couldn’t afford to be a part of. Something out of his grasp. Now I was starting to understand.

Nigit’s brother Suraj was a sophomore at Notre Dame. Maybe Nigit was taking Lindsay to a dorm party?

@FashionBcomesMe: Coolest. Date. Ever. With Nigit’s brother Suraj and his girlfriend Kavya. Suraj cooked!

Lindsay posted a picture of a makeshift table in Suraj’s dorm room covered with food.

On and on it went. And the more Lindsay blogged and tweeted, the more her followers linked her blog, retweeted, and hashtagged
LindsayAndNigit
.

A little before ten, she tweeted from one of the lakes on campus:
Will he kiss me?

Her readers were hooked.
I
was hooked.

@FashionBcomesMe: he kissed me! the most amazing #firstdate ever, and it’s all thanks to @TheBoyfriendApp!

My Twitter account caught fire as hundreds of users followed me. My fingers zinged over the keys doing follow-backs like Lindsay instructed. Breathless, I checked my profile on Public’s site.

Contestant Number 13079: Audrey McCarthy. Harrison High School. South Bend, Indiana. THE BOYFRIEND APP. Available for Download. Users: 111. Click Here for More Information.

Every time I refreshed the page, more people had downloaded the app!

Users: 144

Users: 209

Users: 298

Next to a scrolling bar on their home page, Public listed the contest entries with the most users. There was an app called Doggie Did that found your dog’s poop in the dark using a heat sensor, which led the way with 2,783 users. App number two on the list was called Dress Hot (you submitted a photo of your outfit and the app taught you how to Make It Hotter) with 2,105 users, and so on.

My user numbers were climbing, but not as nearly fast as the apps on the home page. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy: Obviously the top ten apps displayed front and center on the site were the ones Public buyPhone owners would think were the best, resulting in way more exposure and potential users. It was like high school: Somebody decides you’re popular, or not, and his or her opinion gains momentum, suddenly becoming the truth about you. If I could just break into the Top Ten list, I’d have all the free publicity in the world and a chance at winning the prize for the Most Popular App.

Users: 307

Users: 339

If only I’d submitted it sooner! My fingers flew over the keys, following high-school and college students on Twitter who seemed like maybe they’d be my
target market
, as Lindsay called it. But there was virtually no way to compete with the most popular apps.

I texted Lindsay: We need to get the BFA into the top ten.

I’m roping bloggers in now
,
she texted back. Lots of them wanna to do a post on u.

I watched as the numbers skyrocketed for the Top Ten apps. Thnx, L. But we need a miracle . . .

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

.....................................................................

chapter nine

“S
trike!”

Ten bowling pins ricocheted with a riotous clatter. My shoes squeaked on the shiny wood floor as I victory-danced my way across the lane.

It was 2-FOR-1 SUNDAYS at South Bend Bowl & Arcade, and a strobe light glittered from the ceiling when someone bowled a strike. Aidan and Mindy were covered in sparkling checks of brightness as they clapped.

“You’re a weirdly good bowler, Auds,” Aidan said, grinning. His long body leaned back against the booth. His ivory sweater made his curls appear even darker.

“Thanks,” I said, mentally filing the details of the parent/child bowling league my mom and I played during sophomore year in a folder marked
THINGS YOU DON’T EVEN TELL YOUR THERAPIST
.

Today was Mindy’s idea. I’d been holed up in my room for the seventeen hours since Lindsay and Nigit’s date doing Twitter stuff for the app like Lindsay taught me (minus the one hour I babysat our neighbor’s toddler) when Mindy texted: lets see the luvbirds in action . . . South Bend B & A at 4?

Raspberry-colored barrettes clipped Mindy’s caramel waves away from her face. She caught my eye as she tapped a pearly green bowling ball the size of her head. “Too heavy,” I said, nodding when she picked up a smaller brown one.

“Are you
sure
you’re not secretly pro?” Aidan asked. The bowling alley was dimly lit and his blue eyes were dark like lake water. The corners crinkled as he teased me. “Between bowling and the Boyfriend App, you seem to have plenty of options for college scholarships.”

Mindy laughed and I felt myself blush. It felt good to hear him say that, whether or not it was really true. It felt better-than-good to be here with him.

In the arcade behind us, twangy electronic noises sounded and an elderly couple with matching gray bowl cuts blew up an ATM machine in a video game called
Bank Robbery
. In the lane next to us, four Notre Dame kids—three girls and one boy—sat clustered together, laughing. Textbooks stuck out from their bags, like maybe they were taking a study break. I watched the way they moved, how sometimes they touched one another’s arms when somebody said something. I liked how they seemed so sure of themselves. I imagined how, after today was over, they’d return to their beautiful campus and tiny bedrooms in Gothic dormitories. Or maybe meet with a professor. Or study with their roommates at the brown brick library covered with a shining mosaic. How could we live in the same town and occupy entirely different universes?

“You’re number fifty-nine on the Most Popular App list,” Aidan said. I stopped staring at the ND kids and turned to Aidan. A white glow illuminated his jaw as he studied his buyPhone. “No one else from Harrison has even broken the ten-thousand mark,” he said.

I took a breath, letting myself get my hopes up again. Maybe there was a chance. “You never know,” I said. It was all I could manage.

“You need to download it, Auds,” Aidan said, still holding my glance. “The creator of the app has to be one of its users. That’s like the number one rule of tech.” He looped his thumb into a hole in his Levis. “And you never know who it might match you with.”