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And then there’s the casual relationship with his parents. They orbit around each other easily. No awkwardness. He’s irreverent any time Noeleen or Aiden expresses pride at his accomplishments. I had no idea a naturally affectionate relationship with one’s parents was even possible.
Bryce’s brilliance and ambition are as palpable as his sense of humor. I wish some of that humor or nerdiness or familiarity was directed at me. Maybe now that I’ve moved to Columbus permanently, he won’t be so distant.
That would be nice yet unlikely, I think, recalling his blatant denial that we’re related. Sighing at the memory of his dismissal, I remain grateful for his help.
I’m here doing something other than waiting around for Maeve to work on the Viper with me. That’s possible because of Bryce.
The club is in the process of dismantling materials donated by local businesses, breaking them into sections that may or may not be used in the final build. We’re also reconfiguring parts and components discarded by previous teams.
Design, build, and programming—the good stuff—won’t happen for a few more weeks.
“Has the club entered lots of competitions through the years?” I ask Arthur, working beside me.
“The school always joins the Ace Regionals, because it has the best sports court.”
The sports court is a common competitive field that involves a scrimmage of robots that have to scoop balls and shoot them into various hoops around an obstacle course.
“They change the terrain every year,” another guy says from across the table. “Hey, I’m Philip. You’re new.”
“I’m Ana. Nice to meet you,” I acknowledge before going back to my panel.
I don’t notice Philip approaching till I hear his wheezing on the other side of me. I’m bracketed by two guys who seem more interested in engaging me in conversation than doing any actual work.
“You’ll need a different size to secure the IMU board to the post or it will crack,” Arthur says over my shoulder.
“No kidding,” I mumble, trying to focus because one of the pins won’t stay.
“She needs a tapered screw,” Philip mansplains over my head.
“Don’t you guys have anything better to do?” I ask, leaning back in exasperation.
“Actually, they do,” Shawna says. “Someone needs to reorganize the back. It’s your turn, Philip.”
He looks ready to protest, but Shawna throws him a narrow-eyed glare, daring him to object.
When Philip leaves, she takes his place. “So we’re clear, just because Ms. Hall has the hots for your cousin or whatever, you still need to earn your place.”
I roll my eyes. “And how would you like me to do that? Take my turn reorganizing the junk at the back?”
“You wouldn’t know where to start,” she snarks.
A flare of irritation heats my cheeks. I had been part of my old school’s robotics club for the last three years. My mother, who would not have approved of something so “unladylike,” believed I was volunteering at the library for community service hours. To be fair, we did our share of volunteer book shelving since the library allowed us to use their basement.
The point is, I know what the hell I’m doing.
I recall Bryce’s prediction that I could show my usefulness within minutes. His voice in my ear prompts an idea.
“I’ll tell you what,” I offer. “There are a few old wheelbases back there. If I can take one apart and put it back together in less than ten minutes, my place is earned.” I gesture with air quotes on the word place. I can put together most wheel kits in five minutes.
“Right,” Arthur says with a disbelieving huff.
“Shut up, Arthur,” Shawna yells. “I had to help you with yours last year.”
She chooses the one that’s the worse for wear. It is a hodgepodge of multiple wheel kits held together by duct tape and weak hinges. That’s the only reason I slow down.
When I’m done, the stopwatch reads seven minutes and twenty-two seconds.
“Are you sure it isn’t too, um, revealing?” I ask Shawna while parading my outfit in front of her.
