Page 80 of You Had Me at Hello World
“So? You’re not returning to Chinook Shore, right? Char, youcan’tgo back.” He props himself up on one elbow and stares me down.
“Chill. I’m not going back.” Mom and I need to put as many time zones between ourselves and Michael as possible. Heck, maybe we should go to the moon. One of those space-obsessed billionaires must have an extra seat on their rocket ship. “But I can’t commit to a romantic relationship. That’s just not a priority right now.”
“I’m not a priority to you?” His voice is small.
I swallow my sudden irritation. “That’s not what I meant. Obviously you’re important to me, Khoi. But I don’t know where my mom and I are even going to live.”
“You guys can get a hotel around here,” he says, like someone who thinks Hilton rewards points grow on trees.
I know he wants me to stick around Boston even though we have zero ties here. No housing, no job opportunities, no community that might help us get those things. (If only Hello World were a real app with users, and not a hackathon project.)
I could fight him on it. I could pull up whatever bankaccounts Mom and I can still access, whip out an Excel spreadsheet, really drill it into his head thatwe’re too broke for this zip code.
But I don’twantto argue. Not now. Not after he’s been so kind, and definitely not before the final presentations on Saturday.
I sit up and reach for my clothes, which are wadded up in the corner of his bed. “Let’s just try to win this damn thing.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Friday morning, Khoi’s all moody and quiet, and I know that he’s still upset over the girlfriend thing. Part of me wants to call him out for being unfair. That he doesn’t understand what it’s like to constantly be in survival mode.
But the smarter part of me knows when to shut up. We’re hours away from the finish line. I’m not about to mess up our chances at winning by getting into it with my teammate.
Sitting in Khoi’s room, we upload links to our GitHub repository and a video demo. An entire summer’s worth of work concluded with a silent button click. The final project submission deadline comes and goes.
I don’t know. I was sorta hoping for something more dramatic, something more eleventh-hour. Like somebody throttling the Wi-Fi network to sabotage the competition. Code getting leaked. A fistfight over server space. Some rogue drone crashing through the window.
But no. All I get is the spinning rainbow wheel of doom while we upload our submission.
Afterward, the rest of the camp heads to Chinatown to celebrate with karaoke, but Khoi bails, saying that he’s tired. I join everyone else in screaming our lungs out to “Mr. Brightside” and try not to think about what’s coming this weekend.
Saturday rolls around, and we’ve got a midmorning slot to present in front of the judging panel. When Khoi and I meet in his room to practice beforehand, he looks off. His face is hollow and pale, as if he hasn’t slept a wink.
“You good?” I ask as he fiddles with his monitor screens.
“Hmm?” His reaction time is sluggish too. “Yeah.”
Something occurs to me. “Did you end up refilling your medication?”
“Not yet,” he mumbles.
“Khoi.”I check my phone for the time. There’s still an hour before we have to meet the judges. “Is the pharmacy open on Saturdays? Do you want to do it now?”
“After our presentation.” He shakes his head.
“We have time to get your meds.”
“We should try to win,” he says. “I thought that wasimportantto you? I thought that’s all you cared about?”
Okay, that’s enough. “Grow up,” I snap. “What are you expecting me to do? Right now this contest is my only chance at securing a better life for myself and my mom. And if you’re too immature to get that, then maybe weshouldn’tbe together.”
He’s silent, and for a moment I think I’ve gone too far. I didn’t really mean that. I don’t want to break up.
God, of course I had to go and ruin things.
But then he crumples onto his desk and an unnatural spasm shudders through his body, like his muscles are at war with each other.
I rush over. “Khoi? Khoi!”
