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Campers sprawled across beanbags and chairs, laptops open, junk food everywhere. The final showcase was tomorrow, but no one was coding.
“You know Mercer’s class, right?” Clara asked. “His first project’s a group app, and you have to pick your own teams. Total chaos.”
“Sounds like party building,” Jamal said. “If you don’t grab a Tank and a Healer, your app wipes halfway through.”
“Great, now I have to figure out which of us is the Healer.”
“Not Danny. He’s a Bard. All charm, no utility.”
“I’d roll for persuasion, but it’s not worth wasting inspiration on you.”
“See? Classic Bard energy.”
“You’ve been cracking jokes all week,” Clara said. “But today you’re weirdly focused. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just fine-tuning the greatest pizza app ever created. Libras are depending on me.”
“Uh-huh. Just remember, Mercer doesn’t grade on charisma.”
“Good thing I’ve got Pisces adaptability.”
Lucy had texted earlier. The surgery was over, and Matt was okay.
It should’ve been good news—
“You’re zoning out again. Still with us?”
“Always. Wanna see the magic?”
“Yeah, Bard. Impress me.”
He spun up the app. It launched clean.
“See? Told you it worked. Remember when it couldn’t even load a toppings menu?”
“Best app at camp, no contest. We should’ve built a scoreboard just to track how far ahead we are.”
“What can I say? I thrive under pressure.”
“You thrive on chaos. And if this were a D&D campaign, we’d leave you to deal with the boss solo.”
“Good. I’ve got a plan. I call it improvise and hope it works.”
For a moment, the room seemed lighter.
Matt was okay. The app was okay. Everything was okay.
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