Extraits

Chapter 1

Invisibility

I stand at the campus gate, leaning my weight against my suitcase, with my back to the ivy-covered sign:

WINTHROP ACADEMY

Founded 1813

Why did I come here again? I've been coveting a spot in this program since eighth grade, counting down the years until I was old enough to apply. Then counting down the days until my parents dropped me off, with hugs and kisses and orders to call home nightly.

Now here I am, waving at the red glow of their brake lights as they exit the driveway and disappear over a rise in the twisting mountain road. The fact that I'm standing here is the most monumental thing I've ever done, but I don't feel accomplished—or even excited. Right at this moment, I feel like a little kid on my first day of kindergarten, trying desperately to hold it together before the other kids see what a crybaby I am.

I straighten up my shoulders. Get it together, Ellie. I'm not a baby. I'm 16 years old, and I worked my butt off to earn a scholarship to attend this summer program. It's not like I'm moving here for life. The Winthrop Academy Summer Maker Program runs two weeks, and then my parents will be back to pick me up.

I'm here. I'm doing this... and it's going to be amazing.

With a deep, shuddering breath, I turn my back to the road and make my way through the tall wrought-iron gates. Maybe it's the grandeur of this place that's throwing me off. I knew it would be fancy—one of the oldest and most prestigious boarding schools in New England—but I didn't expect it to be so huge. There must be twenty different buildings within the campus walls, interconnected by a web of gravel pathways.

I recognize the largest building straight ahead, with its brick façade and graceful clock tower. That was the image pictured on all the online application materials. It looked so warm and welcoming on the website, pictured against a backdrop of clear blue sunny skies. But the reality before me feels forbidding and austere... Or maybe that's just the blanket of dark gray clouds gathering overhead.

I better figure out where I'm going before the rain starts. I grab my suitcase handle and march forward, choosing one of the angled paths at random. A pair of girls stand at the far end, and my spirits lift at the sight of them. Most of the Winthrop students have left for the summer, but at least the place isn't completely abandoned. I expect the girls to react to the sound of crunching gravel as I approach. They turn, but I can't seem to make eye contact. It's weird. Do they even see me? Both of them have their eyes covered by bulky sunglasses, in spite of the overcast skies.

A confident person would go up to them... introduce herself... smile... get directions... ask if they're part of the same program... That seems like the confident approach. Definitely.

If you know any confident people like that, please let me know because I'd love to meet them. As for me, I turn down a different path and pull out my phone to look busy.

Maybe I can find a campus map online. I'm just about to open my web browser, but something else distracts me. A new app, freshly downloaded, beckons from the bottom of my screen. At the sight of it, my whole mood shifts.

I got it from the app store this morning, praying my parents wouldn't notice a new download in the last-minute chaos of packing. It's probably one of the more rebellious things I've done. Not that they actively forbade me to get this app—but I know if I asked permission, they'd say no. Which is why I never bothered asking... (See? Not such a baby after all. I have my independent streak.)

I'll delete this app before they come back to pick me up, but these two weeks away from home seem like my best chance to join the game. I've been dying to get InstaLove ever since I read about it in TeenHack.

InstaLoveTM

Love's a game.

Teens will fall head over heels for this location-based augmented reality game. Players simply download the app to their phone and upload a selfie on Instagram with hashtag #InstaLoveIsReal. Then get ready to join the game! The app will automatically generate a custom avatar and push an alert if other users are nearby. When players encounter another InstaLoverTM in real life, the app will superimpose their avatars and prompt both players with choices for how to interact. Users watch their InstaLovabilityTM Score increase with everyone they meet...

Sounds good to me. My reality could use some "augmentation." Not that I'm obsessed with boys or anything, but everyone wants to be loved at some point. Or at least liked... I'm pretty sure no boy has ever liked me in a non-platonic way.

I scuff the bottom of my shoe against the gravel, sending light-gray pebbles scattering in front of me as I walk. Trevor... Why am I still thinking about Trevor?

I was so sure he liked me. That's the thing. It's not that he broke my heart or anything dramatic. But I spent an entire school year overanalyzing every single thing the boy said to me, and all signs pointed to "LIKE." He offered to be my lab partner in AP Biology. He was constantly asking me to help him out with pre-calculus homework, even though he had plenty of other friends in that class. And when I asked him to join our school's Robotics Club with me this spring, he said yes. Which was basically just an excuse to hang out together in Maker Lab after school every day.

So how do you explain the look of total blankness on his face, followed by the soul-destroying 30-seconds of stammered apologies, when I finally scraped up the nerve to say something out loud?"

"Gosh. I'm sorry. Ellie. Damn... I-I like you a lot. For sure. You're, like, the smartest person I know. I just never... I never really... saw you... I mean, not that way..."

He never really saw me. Neither did those girls I passed just now. Are you sensing a theme yet? I don't know why, but people tend to overlook me. I swear if I had a superpower, I know what it would be: Invisibility.

I heave a sigh, returning my eyes to my phone. I should probably find my room and unpack before I set up my InstaLove account, but I'm in a crappy mood now. I really hope this game is as good as everyone says... I flick it open, and it welcomes me with a view of my own face staring back.

Welcome to InstaLove!

Snap a selfie to begin.

I turn my head from side to side, lifting the phone higher to get a flattering angle. It's my face staring back... but not my face. There's something subtly different. It must use some kind of beauty filter.

I like this app already.

I take a pic and follow the prompts to post it on my Instagram, not bothering to edit the suggested default caption:

Love's a game. Wanna play? #InstaLoveIsReal

I get a "Like" immediately, and an automatic wave of cringe-y awkwardness washes through me. It's not someone from school, is it? They usually ignore everything I post. But no, to my relief, it's not from anyone I know. It's all part of the game.

<3 InstaLoveBot

It leaves a comment, too.

InstaLoveBot: Upload complete. Your avatar is ready...

Well, that was fast! I click back to the InstaLove app, and there I am. Or, not me. My avatar. An older, prettier version of me—like an Ellie 2.0, who knows how to use makeup, and whose nose isn't too big for the rest of her face.

I smile for the first time since I got here. My fingers fly as I hit "Accept" and follow the rest of the prompts to register my account.

The camera switches angles, and the app shows a view of the path in front of me, with just the back of my avatar's head visible at the bottom of the screen. I hold up the phone as I resume walking, wondering if I'll encounter any other users.

Probably. InstaLove was born here, after all. I read all about that in TeenHack, too. It was first created right here at Winthrop a few summers ago by a student named Emerson Kemp, and it went on to become the most commercially successful project ever to come out of the Summer Maker program.

Of course, the original concept behind InstaLove was much simpler than the game I just downloaded. The summer Emerson attended here, the two most popular downloads in the App Store were Instagram and Pokémon Go—so he hacked the two together. The result was this weirdly compelling mix of social media and augmented reality. When Instagram users encountered each other in real life, his app would superimpose their profile pics over their real faces and prompt everyone to "heart" each other's accounts. It went viral, and Emerson went on to start a software company with InstaLove as its flagship product. Now, he's this program's most famous alumnus. He'll be appearing here in person at the end of the two weeks as a guest judge for the Maker Fair, where this summer's crop of students will all compete with our own projects.

At least I won't be invisible when it comes time for the Maker Fair. I'm not expecting to win a medal or anything, but I've got a solid plan for what I want to build. I won my scholarship to attend this place on the strength of the proposal.

I'll think about that later though. Right now, Ellie 2.0 is on the prowl. I swivel my phone around in front of me, searching for any sign of other InstaLove avatars. My eyes are on my screen as I make my way at random around the campus.

Where is everyone? Forget avatars... where are all the humans?

I turn the corner around a building, and I nearly crash right into him.

Another avatar: Brown eyes. Dark hair.

With a gasp, I click the app closed as I look up at the actual boy standing in front of me. He's wearing sunglasses like those other girls, but he takes them off and rubs his eyes. "That wasn't one of the choices."

"W-what?" I stammer. This boy doesn't need an avatar. He's better looking in real life. He runs his fingers through his hair to push it away from his face, but it immediately flops over his forehead again, half-covering his eyes. Why is it that boys look so much cuter when they're deliberately unkempt?

"You're not supposed to turn it off until you pick a choice," he says, nodding at the phone in my hand. "It'll drop your score."

Does he know I'm playing InstaLove? How? His phone is nowhere in sight. I can feel the flood of heat coloring my face. He looks older than me, guessing by his tall frame and the hint of dark stubble shadowing his cheeks. Probably a senior. Probably way too mature for stupid games.

He smiles—a burst of childlike mischief that contrasts against the squareness of his jaw—and I can't breathe.

"Where are your glasses? Reese will be pissed if she catches you using your phone.

"Who? I stuff my phone in my pocket. Are phones not allowed? It didn't say so in the orientation packet. "I didn't know. I just got here."

He laughs. "Your secret's safe with me. I'm Maddox by the way."

"Ellie," I reply, taking his outstretched hand.

He cocks an eyebrow. "That's not short for Eleanor, is it?"

"Yeah."

"Uh oh."

"What? Why?"

He laughs and shakes his head, and his eyes slide past me over my shoulder, as if laughing with someone else behind me at some inside joke. Back to being invisible, I guess. For a moment there, I felt like things might be different for Ellie 2.0.

But no. This is the real world, and I'm just Ellie.

"OK, well..." I move to step around him, rolling my suitcase in my wake. It tumbles sideways. So much for my graceful exit. It probably would have yanked my arm out of its socket if he hadn't grabbed my suitcase handle to keep it upright.

"Do you need help? That thing is bigger than you are."

"I'm fine."

I'm not fine. He's staring at me now. I think I preferred invisibility. He lets go of the handle as I struggle to set the suitcase back on its wheels, trying desperately to think of something to say. What do you say to a boy who just rescued you from a freak shoulder-dislocation accident? A beautiful boy with some kind of weird x-ray-vision superpower that allows him to see invisible girls?

Ask for directions. That's what a confident person would do. Right.

"I'm looking for Fenmore Hall." Wow, my voice almost sounded normal there

"Oh! Duh!" He points toward one of the buildings behind me. "Over there. That's the girl's dorm. The guys are all staying in Grier."

"OK, thanks." I pull the suitcase toward the building he indicated. That should have been the end of the conversation, but somehow it continues. To my delight (or possibly my horror), he strolls along beside me. "I'll tell Reese you're new," he says. "She'll hook you up."

"Is Reese the director?"

"No!" He laughs. "Reese is a student. She's working on an InstaLove mod for her Maker Fair project. It lets you play in virtual reality. Full immersion!" He waves the glasses in his hand, and I realize they aren't sunglasses that everyone is wearing. I know what those are. I've seen them online, but never in person. VR goggles...

"Is that an InSight Visor?" I can't quite manage to keep the awe out of my voice. "Don't those things cost like three thousand dollars?"

"They're pretty sweet. Reese and—"

He stops in midsentence. Stops walking as well. I look up and see a girl coming down the front steps of the building we're approaching. She's the opposite of invisible, with ruby red lipstick and dark blond hair floating in a cloud around her shoulders. Her face isn't so much beautiful, but magnetic. One of those people that everybody automatically turns to look at, the moment she enters any room.

Is that Reese?

"Hey Eleanor," Maddox says beside me. His easy smile fades. His face goes still, and I'm confused. Is he talking to me? Because his eyes are on the other girl.

"What are you doing?" she demands.

"I'm just helping out the new kid."

The girl narrows her eyes at me and then spins away from us both, striding briskly in the opposite direction.

"Eleanor! Wait!"

Maddox jogs after her, and I'm on my own again. Guess I'll find my dorm room by myself.