Chapter 24: Trust Me
E L L I E
"You trust me, right?"
No.
The answer is no. I don't know Maddox well enough to trust him. But more worrisome than that, I don't trust myself when he's around. How am I supposed to judge his trustworthiness, when his hands are on my shoulders... when I can feel his body heat inches from my back...
Honestly, how am I supposed to think at all when he transforms my brain into a quivering puddle of lust-flavored jello juice every time we have a work session?
Work.
Session.
That's what this is supposed to be. Remember? I give my head a tiny shake, sloshing around the jello juice until it coalesces into a semi-solid state.
Beta testing.
Maker Fair.
Project.
Partners.
Work session.
That's why Maddox brought me up here. To work. Isn't that what I wanted? A partner who shouldered half the workload?
I try to turn my head, but he stops me. "Don't peek!" he commands in a rushed whisper, leaning so close that his visor clunks against the back of my head. "You have to back up toward a hazard without looking at it. That's the test!"
Hazard.
Hazardous terrain.
I feel like someone warned me about that not too long ago. For the life of me, I can't remember when or why or who. I can't remember much of anything when Maddox's lips are a hair's breadth from my earlobe.
I squeeze my eyes closed. Focus Ellie. Beta testing. Hazardous terrain. "Wait, so we're testing the module I wrote last night? It's already running?"
"Not yet. I'm implementing it now." His hands drop from my shoulders to my elbows as I wait, but he doesn't release his hold on me. Why not? Maybe his fingertips like my arms as much as my arms like his fingertips... Or maybe he doesn't trust me not to turn around.
"OK," he says at last. "Did you get an admin request?"
I open my mouth to say no, when the notification flashes before my eyes.
I almost forgot I was wearing my visor. I blink at the Continue button, and hold my breath.
My heart is doing weird things inside my rib cage. Adrenaline has taken hold. The feeling is not entirely due to Maddox and the way his palms felt when he ran them down my arms just now, warm and feathery against my skin. There's also the rush of anticipation from testing a piece of code for the first time... and the cringe-inducing, chlorine-scented memory of what happened the last time I didn't look where I was going in this visor...
I clear my throat. "It's installing," I tell him, as businesslike as I can manage. "So what's the plan? I'm supposed to walk backward?"
"Right. I'm going hold your arms like this so you don't trip. There's an obstacle behind us that your visor hasn't seen—"
"But your visor can see it," I murmur, following his logic.
"Exactly. I'm looking where I'm going. So if your module works, you should get an alert that you're approaching a hazard based only on the data my visor shares with yours. That's the test."
SYSTEM
Update complete!
I nod. The plan makes sense. It shouldn't freak me out. I mean, technically, I'm putting my life in the hands of an algorithm that I hacked between the hours midnight and 6 am last night... with a boy I hardly know as my only fail-safe...
But isn't that what this Maker Program is all about? Independent study. Peer-based learning.
Right.
I pull in a deep breath. "There aren't any swimming pools behind me, are there?"
He only chuckles in response and draws me toward him. I look down and keep my eyes on the leaf-littered trail beneath my feet as we edge backward, step by step. After four or five paces, a familiar red alert message flares before my eyes.
I freeze, sucking in a shaky breath. "Stop."
He sounds puzzled behind me. "Did you get an alert? We're not close enough yet."
"It's the same one as before. 'Eyes ahead.'"
"Oh, you can clear that. It's just because you're not looking where you're going."
My mouth is dry. My palms are sweaty. The uncomfortable tightness in my chest has nothing to do with cute-boy-proximity anymore. I feel reckless and unsafe, disregarding every warning that the universe has sent my way. But I don't want Maddox to know how nervous this whole situation is making me. I cast my eyes sideways to flick the text box away.
I should get a different warning message if my program works. I know that. I know what it will say. I wrote out the output string myself.
Output ('Warning! You are approaching an unseen hazard. Stop moving and proceed with extreme caution.');
I need to trust—but not in they boy behind me. I need to trust myself. My program. The skills that I know I have, that I've worked so hard to hone.
"OK, OK, OK," I whisper, half to myself and half to him. "Keep going."
Maddox squeezes one of my elbows. "Careful here. There's a rock. Step up." I grope clumsily behind me, but his arms hold me securely upright as I regain my footing.
I can feel the heat of the sun against the back of my neck now. We've emerged from beneath the trees into some kind of clearing. The ground changes from soil to a shelf of solid rock. I'm barely breathing at this point. My instincts scream to stop and go back the way I came, but I fight the feeling. We must be almost there, right?
Maddox lets go of my arms, but I can still feel his presence behind me. "Good," he says. "Stay still for a sec. Don't turn around!"
Is he backing away from me? I swallow hard against the rising panic in my throat. "Where are you going?"
"Don't move!" he answers. "I'm going to record a video of the last few feet. Just wait until I cue you."
I don't like this. I don't like it at all. Why is this so nerve-wracking?
"OK," Maddox says at last. "Now, I want you to walk backward toward my voice. Slowly. That's it."
The sun beats down from above, but a breeze flutters my hair. Cool air, carrying with it a faint hint of humidity. Some kind of pond or reservoir? Is that the hazard I'm approaching? I grit my teeth. "I swear, Maddox, if I end up underwater again..."
He laughs. "You're fine! Keep going. Slow and steady."
"Am I almost there?" I'm so tempted to look. My shoulders ache from tension as I keep my head tilted downward.
"I set the distance parameter to ten," Maddox answers me. "You should get an alert when you're ten feet from the hazard."
OK. Ten feet sounds reasonably safe. I keep inching backward. "What if it doesn't work?"
"Then I'll warn you. Don't worry!"
He sounds totally relaxed but my heart is in my throat. I can barely lift my feet as I force myself to shuffle backward another step... and another... and another...
"Almost there!" he calls to me. "Inches now. Nice and slow."
I let out a gasp as the words appear before my eyes. Red. Flashing. Impossible to ignore. Just the way I planned them when I sat hunched over my laptop in the safety of my dorm room last night.
All my tension evaporates, replaced by a flood of triumph. "It worked! Maddox! I got the alert!"
"Awesome!" I can hear his footsteps approaching. "OK, don't move. Keep your feet planted until I measure the distance."
"Should I clear the alert?"
"No, leave it. I want to show it on the video."
I've been holding both my fists clenched against my sides, but I unfurl my aching fingers. I keep my eyes trained forward so that the alert stays visible.
Maddox comes up behind me at last. His hand finds the small of my back. "Ten feet exactly," he says in her ear, and I can hear the thrill in his voice, matching my own excitement. "Can you take off your glasses without clearing the alert?"
"I think so." I removes the visor gingerly and hold it up. He cranes forward to see what I was seeing. I expect him to be holding a camera—or at least a cell phone—but he's just wearing his own visor, with his finger pressed to a button on the side.
"Got it!" he says.
He let's go of the button and peels his glasses off.
"The visors record video?"
"Forget the visors," Maddox laughs. "We did it! It worked! Proof of concept!" He lets out a whoop, and picks me up, swinging me around. The world spins around me in a whirl of color and light. Only when he sets me down do I finally take in the full 360-degree view.
All the air leaves my lung. I thought I was backing up toward water. A pool. A pond. Maybe a lake...
But what I see before me now is the edge of a soaring cliff, with a lake far below. There's not even a railing to stop someone from going over the edge.
I clap my hand to my chest. "Oh my God, Maddox! This is where you chose to test it?"
He grins. "Dramatic, right?" He taps his visor. "I thought about setting the distance parameter less than 10, but I figured—"
"Less than—less than—Maddox what if it hadn't worked? What if..."
My legs go rubbery. I can feel my knees give way. Only Maddox's arm, wrapping around my waist, keeps me from sinking to the ground.
"I've got you, Ellie. I wouldn't let you fall."
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