Two days later, Rose sat in her usual spot on the opposite side of the library from Martin. He confirmed that he had gotten the article to his friends. Rose had thought about nothing other than her project. Whenever her thoughts strayed too long elsewhere, the horrifying image of the town erupting exploded through her mind. She had gone through two notebooks already—working the project out on paper, but the simple concept would need strong execution.

A shadow darkened the doorway, and both Rose and Martin looked up. Principal Curlow and Ms. Evans beckoned her over.

When they got to his office, Rose fought to keep her amusement to herself as the principal sat behind his desk, shaking his head at the open Clarksville Times in front of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was coming?”

“I didn’t know.”

“Rose, come on. Don’t play me for an idiot.”

“All right.” Rose sighed her best pretend sigh. “A friend of mine told me that she was working on an article about how Beckinfield is full of small-town hicks. Ever since we crushed them in that big volleyball game, they’ve been looking for an angle to embarrass us.”

The principal stayed silent for a long moment. Finally, he asked, “Do they have something like your website over there?”

“No.”

“How much do you need?”

“Five thousand, four hundred, and thirty-two dollars.”

“I’ll give you twenty-five hundred.”

“But I need five thousand, four hundred, and thirty-two dollars.”

“But you’re going to get twenty-five hundred.”

Rose stared him dead in the eye. Then she stood. “Pass.”

She turned and headed away—but she wouldn’t make it to the door.

“Wow! You’re a piece of work.”

Rose stopped and smiled to herself. If you only knew. She turned back to him.

The principal shook his head with astonishment. “All right.”

Five minutes later, Rose strode into the library, and Martin glanced up. She slowly pulled out the opposite chair at his table and sat. After meticulously lining up her notebooks in front of her, she slid her chair into the table.

Martin studied her. Biting his lip, he pushed his glasses up his nose. “So?”

“So,” she said matter-of-factly, “looks like I’m in the market for a programmer. Would you like to submit an application?”

“Wh-What?”

She broke out into a smile. “Just kidding. We are on!”

“How much am I getting?”

“Let’s talk about what it is before we talk about what it will cost.”

Over the next ninety minutes, Rose laid out her vision. A vision that made sense on the surface so students and Beckinfield residents would want to participate and tell the world their stories. But in actuality, it would broadcast an answer to the message she had uncovered. What. You—We. Beckinfield.

Martin took notes and commented where he could acquire the various turn-key pieces of software to build the site. But Rose had no interest in the how—she kept focusing on the what.

“How’s fifteen dollars an hour?” asked Martin.

“How many hours will it take?”

“Probably, like sixty. So, nine hundred bucks should cover it.” Martin looked over her shoulder and straightened. Rose turned to the door.

Ms. Evans walked into the library and approached their table. “That was quite impressive.”

“Thank you,” said Rose.

“A bit forceful, and I’m not sure you made a friend, but—”

“I don’t need any friends.”

“But you got what you wanted.” Ms. Evans slid a debit card across the table to her. “The full amount is on it. It works like any credit card. I’m copied on all expenses, and if I see something that doesn’t make sense, we’re going to have a talk.”

“It’s all going to make sense.”

“Martin, are you helping?”

Before he could answer, Rose spoke up. “Yeah. He gets a hundred dollars an hour, but he’s going to do it in ten hours.” This is fun.

Martin gawked at her.

“So, a thousand to get up and running?” Ms. Evans clarified. “That sounds fair.”

“Good.”

“Principal Curlow had a few conditions. He wanted to make sure the site is carefully monitored for language and content. So, I suggest you build a group to help you.”

“No.”

“You’re planning on doing all of it by yourself.”

“We can’t censor what anyone posts.”

Ms. Evans laughed. “Rose, you can’t be serious. These are high school students.”

“Martin will put up a notice that every video places the future of the project in jeopardy. But we will trust them.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“It has to work that way.”

“Yuppers.” Martin nodded.

Rose turned to him. “Thank you for the support, Martin. But programming is your thing. Getting this up and running is your thing. The content of the site and what it does is mine.”

“Rose,” Ms. Evans said. “This is a huge mistake.”

“Certain things are non-negotiable.”

“Why is that so important? Someone should approve each video. We don’t want things to go up that—”

“No, Ms. Evans, I’m sorry. Some things people post are going to be time sensitive. They need to go up when they need to go up.”

“Well, Principal Curlow had a few other things that—”

“Not interested.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re interested. Whoever has the cash makes the rules. He could cut the funds off at any moment.”

“He won’t have a reason to do that.”

“You’re asking us to put a lot of faith in you, Rose.”

“I’m not going to let you down on this.”

Ms. Evans studied her. “If it were anyone else, I would’ve stopped this several times already. But I trust you. You have a vision, and you’re passionate. I will support that passion until you give me a reason not to.”

“Thank you, Ms. Evans.”

Her teacher nodded. “Good luck.” Ms. Evans turned and left the library.

“Ten hours?”

“You can do it, Yale.”

“You don’t know what goes into something like this.”

“I don’t have to. I just know you’re not going to get a girlfriend until this site is live.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Or boyfriend, if you’d like. But I don’t think so. I think you want a girlfriend. A lot of people are going to discover each other on this project. Bet you’re one of them.”

“This is a dating site?”

“No. You’re building a place where people will express themselves like they never have before, and whether they know it or not, they’re dying to open their hearts. An offshoot of that will be people seeing each other in new ways. Gonna be exciting. And you’re going to be the rock star who built the portal.”

“So…what, Stanford? That’s like part of my pay—to get a girlfriend for the summer?”

“No. You deserve to explore that aspect of life. Someone will find you, and you’ll find someone. This thing is going to be beautiful, thrilling, and it’s going to work for you.”

“How do you know that?”

She studied him. Should she bring him into the fold? Let him know why she needed this site to be successful? And though she was sincere about it helping the residents of Beckinfield, that would just be the residual effect of the true purpose.

She smiled at him. “I’m making it all up trying to motivate you even more.”

Martin laughed, then focused on his copious notes. “Alright. Ten hours. I’ll have something for you in two days.”

“See if you can get it done for tomorrow.” Rose gathered her things and headed toward the door. “Besides, if you don’t practice dating before you go off to the college big leagues, you’re gonna end up sitting alone in a dark dorm room scrolling through pictures of other people’s lives instead of composing your own.”