Emmy in the Key of Code Read online

  Wednesday is the first day of electives

  so for fourth period

  I look at my slip

  Computer Science: Frankie Delaney, HT210

  and navigate my way

  to the computer science room.

  If I were a musician

  I would be in the music tower right now

  maybe tuning a school violin

  or zinga-zinga-zoo-ing in the choir.

  I could be warming up my

  lips teeth tip of the tongue

  on a clarinet.

  I could be trying to play something completely new

  like the xylophone

  or the harmonica

  or the harp.

  I could be banging on a tambourine

  and strumming a bass

  and tinging a triangle

  but I’m not in the music tower

  and I’m not a musician.

  I’m in front of HT210.

  The Computer Lab

  From outside

  the room looks shiny and expensive.

  Not like the computer lab at my old school

  which might as well have been built

  with tin cans

  shoelaces

  and Scotch tape.

  No

  this one is named after some famous graduate

  who probably should never find out

  that our class only needs six

  of the lab’s twenty-five computers

  each probably powerful enough

  to take us to the moon and back.

  Even the classrooms here

  feel like they just hopped off the cover

  of a magazine.

  Back and Forth

  I stand outside

  pacing.

  left, and right, and left, and right, and left

  What if I’m just as awful as a computer scientist

  as I am as a musician?

  What if the girl in braids is mad

  that I caught her changing her elective?

  What if computers are boring

  and the teacher is mean

  and I spend my class staring out the window

  getting lost in the fog?

  left, and right, and left, and right, and left

  I took extra time this morning getting dressed.

  I wore the only jeans I have

  that look almost new.

  They have only one hole in them

  and it’s just on the ankle

  so you can barely see it.

  Way better than yesterday.

  But what if my jeans weren’t the problem

  and even after all this effort

  I still stand out

  like an ugly yellow piano?

  left, and right, and left, and right, and left

  The clock ticks

  11:14

  and if I wait any longer

  I’m late.

  left, and right, and left, and right, and left

  I inhale like Mom does

  when she’s about to sing a high G

  and walk inside.

  Standing Out: Remix

  I collapse in a swivel chair

  in front of an I SPEAK JAVA poster

  and there

  sitting next to me

  is the girl in braids.

  I feel weird making eye contact.

  She knows I know about the elective slips

  and what if she hates me for that?

  What if she saw me pacing outside

  and can tell how out of place I feel?

  But worst of all

  what if she barely even notices I’m here?

  So I delay the inevitable

  by spending forever adjusting my backpack on the ground

  which I should never have done

  because of course a strap catches on my chair

  which I have to kneel down on the floor to fix

  which gets stuck further when I try to pull it out

  which I only manage to unstick by

  rolling the chair

  back and forth

  back and forth

  back and forth

  and by the time I sit back in my seat

  my knees are covered in floor

  my hands smell like swivel chair

  and to top it all off

  my jeans have slipped down

  and the top of my underwear is showing.

  Is the girl in braids staring?

  She’s probably staring.

  I need to know if she’s staring.

  So I look up.

  Blending In

  Instead of staring

  the girl in braids

  wears a smile so sure

  that I know

  she doesn’t think I stand out

  like an ugly yellow piano

  at all.

  In fact

  it seems that

  the only thing she thinks I look like

  is myself.

  Duet No. 1

  “I’m Abigail. What’s your name?”

  “Hi, I’m new here.

  My name is Emmy.”

  Something True

  The teacher crescendoes in

  with a smile painted candy-apple red.

  A color so joyful

  so allegro

  so dolce and vivace

  that it spills onto the rest of her face

  and when she sings:

  “Welcome to Introduction to Computer Science!

  You can call me Ms. Delaney

  and I am SO excited you’re here!”

  I actually believe her.

  Polyrhythm

  There’s this part in Mozart’s Don Giovanni

  when one orchestra is playing in three-four time

  while a second orchestra plays in two-four time.

  I always thought it sounded confused.

  Like two people

  trying to have a conversation

  while reading different pages

  of sheet music.

  I hadn’t thought about it in a while

  but that’s the song that plays in my head

  when a kid walks into class

  sees Ms. Delaney at the whiteboard

  writing her name

  Frankie Delaney

  and asks:

  “Where’s Mr. Delaney?”

  Orchestra One vs. Orchestra Two

  “Where’s Mr. Delaney?”

  “There isn’t one.”

  “But my elective slip says

  Frankie Delaney HT210.”

  “Yep! Welcome to class!”

  “No, no, you don’t understand.

  I’m looking for

  the computer science teacher.”

  “You’re looking at her!”

  “But—”

  “But what?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “So serious.”

  “Well, that’s weird.”

  “I don’t see why it would be.”

  “I mean, you’re—”

  “You’re Francis, right?”

  “Yeah, how did you—”

  “Please sit down.

  Class started two minutes ago

  and it seems like we have so much to learn

  that we can’t waste another moment.”

  Fun Fact

  First there’s Iain Makropoulos

  who is taller than the teacher.

  Fun fact:

  Last year he was the fifth grade record holder

  for the hundred-meter dash.

  Second is Drake Adler

  with an earring made out of a dangling shark’s tooth.

  Fun fact:

  He once wrote a service in C++.

  Whatever that means.

  Then goes Evan Wu

  with hair that is long, long.

  Fun fact:

  His mom is making him take this class.

  The fourth is Abigail Grant.

  The girl in br
aids.

  The giggling girl.

  The fun-fact-so-fun-it-pours-out-of-her girl:

  She is a Tetris champion

  and she’s been singing

  with the San Francisco Children’s Choir

  (SFCC for short)

  since she was three years old

  and she just started programming a little last summer

  and loved it so much

  that she thinks now she wants to be

  the head of a Fortune 500 tech company

  by the time she is 25.

  And

  in the short term

  if she doesn’t spend her allowance on movie tickets

  or on pizza at lunch

  then one day

  she will save enough money

  to buy the parts

  to build her own computer.

  Not-So-Fun Fact

  Ms. Delaney says:

  “Francis.

  It’s your turn.”

  Ever since he sat down

  Francis has had his arms tucked tight

  under his armpits

  like he’s afraid to touch anything.

  And he wrinkles his nose

  as he looks around the room

  like he smells salmon

  left in the garbage too long.

  When he talks

  he grumbles

  like he’s not willing to leave his own orchestra

  no matter how out of sync it is

  with everyone else

  and when it’s his turn for his fun fact

  I swear

  he stares right at me

  when he says:

  “My fun fact is that I can’t believe that

  this

  is the elective I’m stuck in

  all semester long.”

  My Turn

  The sixth is me

  Emmy

  whose head is reeling with fun facts.

  I could tell everyone that I moved here in August

  for my dad’s big break

  as the new second-in-line pianist for the symphony.

  Or I could tell them that my mom

  who once sang Mozart in Carnegie Hall

  is going to work in an office on Monday

  for the first time in twenty-two years.

  Or I could tell them about my dog

  Jeopardy

  who’s kind of my twin brother

  because he was born just hours

  after I was.

  I can’t wait to talk about any of this

  all of this

  but when I take a diaphragm breath

  to prepare myself

  for my solo

  my chair scoots a half-inch

  to the right

  toward Francis

  who squirms

  away from me

  like I’ve got a sickness

  he doesn’t want to catch.

  He makes the face

  the ugly piano face

  and this time

  I know for sure

  it’s not in my head.

  He hates me.

  Empty: Remix

  In the space

  that just seconds ago held

  fun facts

  that I wanted to shout so loud

  they could hear me

  all the way in

  Wisconsin

  there is now

  nothing

  except

  blank.

  My head fuzzes

  my vision spots

  my fingers tingle.

  I recognize this feeling

  I know this feeling

  I hate this feeling

  so before it gets any worse

  I say:

  “I don’t have a fun fact.”

  And Ms. Delaney says:

  “That’s okay. You can tell us when you’re ready.”

  Ms. Delaney

  Number seven is Ms. Delaney

  at the front

  with short corkscrew hair

  and a dress that skims the carpet

  and that allegro-colored smile.

  So bright

  and so bold

  she’s like the flourish of an electric violin

  in the middle of a Beethoven symphony

  and she has not one

  but three

  fun facts:

  #1:

  This time two years ago she was working

  at one of those big tech companies

  in the South Bay.

  One of those with high salaries

  and

  like Dad says

  even higher

  stress.

  But

  (#2)

  she quit

  because

  “Sometimes life has mixed-up ways

  of telling you where you’re NOT supposed to be.”

  And while her last fun fact might as well be that she’s

  THRILLED

  to be starting teaching this semester

  she would be remiss if she didn’t mention that

  (#3)

  she once was on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?

  and won $250,000.

  Repeat

  People seem impressed

  that Ms. Delaney was on TV:

  “Were you scared?”

  “Does that mean you’re rich?”

  “Does that mean you’re famous?”

  “How did you spend all that money?”

  But I hardly notice the answers

  because I’m still stuck

  on the part

  where Ms. Delaney is just as new here

  as I am.

  Muscle Memory

  Ms. Delaney says to turn

  to our computers

  so we can get as much as we can

  out of the time that we have left.

  Even Francis uncrosses his arms

  just long enough

  to turn to the computer

  and jiggle his mouse

  like the rest of us.

  The computers wake up

  and on each screen

  is a window.

  Ms. Delaney says that this window

  is an Integrated Development Environment

  or IDE

  and it’s where we will do our coding.

  But to me all it looks like is

  blank.

  tap, tap, tap

  I type my name in the top left corner

  like I do on my English essays

  but Ms. Delaney says:

  “Don’t type just yet

  because this isn’t a word processor

  and writing code is not the same

  as writing an essay.

  But give it time

  and it will flow out of you

  like you were born with it.”

  Ms. Delaney Says

  Memorize this

  the code surrounding our first program

  as sounds.

  As keystrokes.

  As a piece of music.

  Swimming in our bloodstream

  burrowing in between our bones

  until we can sing it in our sleep.

  public

  static

  void

  main

  string

  bracket

  bracket

  args

  One day we will learn what it does.

  Every word. Every line.

  Every note played on the keyboard.

  But right now it’s okay if it doesn’t make sense.

  If it’s just music

  written in the language called Java.

  { }

  We type it out

  turning the sounds

  into code.

  public static void main(String[] args) {

  }

  Ms. Delaney says this is the entry point

  for every single program

  in Java.

  It makes me think of a time signature
r />   for a piece of music—

  how you know where it all starts.

  The curly braces here

  the {

  }

  hold the entire program.

  We don’t have to understand them fully

  quite yet

  but I like them because {

  they keep things separate {

  like a colon {

  or measure bars {

  ways of distinguishing one idea {

  from another {

  and when they close {}

  }

  it feels complete

  }

  contained

  }

  finished

  }

  like a double bar

  }

  at the end of a song.

  }

  Hello, World!

  For our first program

  we write a single instruction: