In Between Codes

Chapter 5

A red rubber dodgeball flew across the gym floor and smashed directly into Tomy's face with brutal force. The impact made a sickening, echoing pop, and Tomy staggered back, nearly losing his balance.

His eyes welled instantly. Tears streamed down his cheeks before he could stop them. The pain was sharp, unexpected, humiliating.

A second later, footsteps pounded the gym floor, and Moe Zinek came jogging up, completely unbothered.

"Oh—my bad," Moe said, reaching down to grab the ball, feigning innocence. "Slipped outta my hand."

Then he paused.

Looked at Tomy.

And gave a slow, deliberate grin.

Tomy wiped at his face, trying to blink the tears away, but Moe wasn't finished.

"Aww, are you Cwyin? is Tamy Pierce Cwyin?" Moe said, "Guess you're better off being one of the girls after all."

His tone was condescending, cruel, loud enough for a few others nearby to hear and snicker.

Tomy stood frozen for a moment, heart pounding, jaw clenched—but the tears didn't stop.

Mr. Lopez said nothing. he just nogged him to move along.

Tomy reluctantly joined the girls who were already working on the choreography. The moment he stepped into their circle, he felt the weight of how out of place he was. Most of the girls had leotards, vibrant and tight-fitting. Some even had their cheerleading uniforms on. Meanwhile, he was stuck in plain clothes—old, worn-out shorts and a t-shirt that was barely hanging onto its shape. The girls glanced at him with puzzled expressions, and Tomy felt his face turn red, but he quickly blurted out, "The coach sent me to join."

A few of the girls exchanged confused glances, but Laura, the leader of the group, shrugged nonchalantly and waved him in.

"Fine," she said, not missing a beat. "Just pay attention and don't screw up."

She began explaining the routine, but before Tomy could focus on the steps, one of the girls interrupted and asked Tomy, "Are you crying because... you're on our team?"

Tomy froze for a second, his heart sinking. Before he could respond, another girl added, "Or is it because... you were called Tamy?"

Tomy opened his mouth to speak, but another voice interrupted, "Tamy's actually a pretty name."

Tomy's eyes flicked to her, then back to the others, his stomach twisting. "No, no... I'm fine," he said quickly, wiping his eyes, though the tears were still fresh. "It was just... the dodgeball. It hit me hard, that's all."

The girls exchanged uncertain looks, but when they saw that Tomy was brushing it off, Laura spoke up, her tone more authoritative now.

"Alright, enough with the drama," she said, "Let's get back to practice. We've got a routine to perfect."

Laura began explaining the routine, and Tomy found himself trying to absorb the steps while his mind scrambled to make sense of the fluid movements.

He had trouble following the moves at first. The choreography seemed like a series of disjointed gestures that didn't fit together in any meaningful way. He stumbled, got the timing wrong, and felt his limbs betraying him with every misstep.

But then, something clicked. What if I think of it like code?

The thought was so sudden it almost startled him. Tomy had always been good with logic, breaking problems down into steps. A line of code had its own rhythm—an instruction that had to be executed in the right order and at the right time. That's how he'd learned to remember complex strings of programming languages.