Just not today.
30
ETHAN
The error message blinks at me like a neon middle finger.
STACK OVERFLOW AT LINE 2847.
I’ve been staring at this same fucking code for six hours. Six hours of trying to implement the perfect everything, that was supposed to prove I could take criticism and turn it into something better.
Instead, my game crashes every time the tower explodes.
“Fuck,” I mutter, running both hands through my hair. It’s 2 AM on Monday, senior showcase is in three weeks, and I’m about to submit a project that doesn’t even run.
My phone sits face-down on the desk beside me, notifications silenced. I know there are messages—from Freddie asking if I want dinner, from Alfie offering to help debug. Maybe even from Piper, though I doubt it. I haven’t looked at Discord because seeing ButterBoi69 online makes my chest feel like it’s caving in.
I haven’t spoken to or seen Piper since I discoveredsheis ButterBoi69. That was like…10 days ago.
I’m fucking miserable.
The bedroom door opens without a knock.
“Jesus Christ, man.” Troy’s voice cuts through the darkness. “It smells like energy drinks and desperation in here.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, not turning around.
“Sure you are.” The overhead light flicks on, making me wince. “When’s the last time you slept?”
“I slept.”
“When?”
I consider this. “Friday?”
“It’s Monday night, genius.” Troy surveys the disaster zone that is my room—empty energy drink cans, crumpled notebook pages, three different hoodies I’ve worn and discarded. “Okay, that’s it. Emergency intervention.”
“Troy, I don’t need?—”
“Freddie!Alfie!” he bellows down the hall. “Code red in Ethan’s room!”
“I hate you,” I mumble.
Within minutes, all three of my housemates have invaded my space. Freddie carries nachos, Alfie has his laptop and decent coffee, and Troy’s dragging in extra chairs.
“Alright,” Troy announces, making himself comfortable on my bed. “What’s the damage?”
I gesture at my screen. “Everything’s broken. The new scene crashes the engine. I’m three weeks from showcase and my GPA is fucked.”
“Let me see.” Alfie nudges me aside, scanning the code. “Ah. You’re calling a particle effect that doesn’t exist. Line 2847.”
“That’s it?” I stare at the screen. “A missing file?”
“That’s one problem. There are more underneath.” Hekeeps typing. “But why are you freaking about your GPA? The beta test is only part of your grade.”
“Twenty percent,” I mutter. “And Piper’s review tanked it.”
“Piper?” Freddie’s head snaps up. “What’s she got to do with this?”
