Girl Geeks: The Hackathon Read online

  About the Book

  Get ya geek on with this girl gang as they design, make, game, hack, code & more!

  Hamsa’s teacher has announced that their class will be doing their very own Hackathon.

  A hack-a-what? thinks Hamsa. She doesn’t know anything about tech or coding!

  Can Hamsa and her team come up with the goods or will things fall apart as she plays it too cool for school?

  The Girl Geek series is developed in partnership with Girl Geek Academy – an Australian-based global movement teaching one million women to learn technology by 2025. They run programs for girls, parents, teachers, corporate and community.

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  A message from Girl Geek Academy

  Imprint

  Read more at Penguin Books Australia

  For all the girls in the world who are finding their girl gangs, and my three favourite fellas, George, Fred and Paul – A.M.

  What would the internet look like if more women were building it? This book is dedicated to all the women who want to, and those that already are – Amanda, Tammy, Lisy, April and Sarah

  Geek /gik/ noun. 1. A person who’s highly passionate, excited and deeply curious. You could be a geek about anything. Geeks care; they show up and they support the people around them. 2. Geek is a self-described term. It could be insulting to call someone a geek, but saying ‘we’re geeks’ is expressing it as a term of affection. ‘I’m a geek’ is a term of pride. verb. 1. The act of being a geek. 2. Activities include geeking out with friends, and getting your geek on about something.

  ‘One spot for Sal, who’s the trendiest gal. One for Wai-Ling, who can swim, run and sing …’

  Hamsa recited the poem she’d made up as she placed books around the table, reserving the seats for her best friends. It was before school and kids were starting to file into the classroom.

  ‘One for Michelle, who plays handball so well. One for Zo-eeeee, who can sit next to me. And lucky-last Hamsa, who’s …’ Hmmmm, thought Hamsa. She always got stuck at that point of her poem.

  She carefully placed her pencil case in front of her, sat down and tucked her short dark hair behind her ears. The trouble was that Hamsa didn’t think she was particularly good at anything. But ‘not particularly good’ didn’t rhyme with ‘Hamsa’ anyway.

  From her table near the window, Hamsa looked around the room. Her friends hadn’t arrived yet, but she did see someone new standing in the doorway. She was tall, had black hair pulled back in a messy bun and her uniform looked brand-spanking new. Hamsa watched as the girl made her way to an empty table.

  Just as Hamsa was about to invite her to come over:

  BANG!

  The girl tripped and went crashing to the floor. Her books and pencil case flew out of her arms. When she looked up all the kids were staring at her.

  ‘I am SO sorry!’ called Niki, rushing over.

  ‘So you should be!’ said Hamsa, joining them and helping the new girl to her feet. ‘There’s a reason Ms Atlas says to leave that stupid thing outside.’

  Hamsa pointed to the cause of the accident. It was Niki’s well-travelled skateboard, painted black with colourful stickers covering the artwork underneath.

  ‘It’s not stupid, but sure, I’ll take it out.’ Niki stepped on one end of the board, flicking the other end up in the air. She caught it casually by her side. ‘I really am sorry. Are you okay?’

  The new girl nodded while Hamsa took her hand. ‘You’re just being polite. I bet you’re not okay. I bet you’re hurt and you’d one hundred per cent be embarrassed. But if it makes you feel better, I do embarrassing things all the time.’

  Niki rolled her eyes and walked off while Hamsa leant in close.

  ‘Last week,’ she whispered, ‘I went to the loo at lunchtime and tucked my dress into my undies by accident. None of my friends told me when I came out. It wasn’t until the kids in Grade 1 started yelling “Look at that unicorn bum!” that I realised.’

  ‘Unicorns?!’ the girl asked, giggling. She had a hint of an accent, but Hamsa couldn’t place where it was from.

  ‘Yeah, I had unicorns on my undies. It’s dumb and childish, I know, and by Grade 5 you should totally be over unicorns, but I think they’re so awesome! Oh gosh, now I’ve just told you how much I love unicorns and you’re going to think I’m dumb too. Are my cheeks as red as yours were? I bet they are.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re dumb.’ The girl smiled. ‘My name’s Eve Lee, by the way.’

  ‘I’m Hamsa Pillai. It’s great to meet you.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ said a small voice. It belonged to a girl with a pristine school dress, round silver glasses and neatly braided blonde hair. She was holding Eve’s pencil case.

  She shyly handed it back.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Eve.

  The girl smiled before hurrying away.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Eve, as Hamsa led her back to their table.

  ‘That’s Maggie Milsom. She doesn’t say much, but she does make the most amazing crochet cats.’

  ‘Cats?’ asked Eve.

  ‘Or any toy animals really. You should see her knitting and crocheting at lunchtime. Her fingers move so fast.’ Hamsa pointed to the next table along. ‘That’s Ezra. He broke his leg last term. And Katherine, she always has the best lunches.’

  ‘What about that girl with the skateboard?’ asked Eve. ‘She seems nice … but in a you-better-not-mess-with-me way.’

  ‘That’s Nikoleta Apostolidis. We all call her Niki. And you’re spot-on,’ said Hamsa, watching Niki sit down at a table on her own. ‘It’s like she’s friends with everyone and no one at the same time, and she doesn’t seem to mind. This is the first year we’ve been in a class together, so I hardly know her, except that she skates and is into gaming.’

  The truth was, Hamsa had never tried to get to know Niki. Her confidence was kind of intimidating.

  Eve nodded and Hamsa surveyed the room, looking for other interesting facts to share with the newbie. She was excited to have a potential new friend, but was also trying her best to give a good first impression. Eve covered her mouth as she tried to hold back a yawn.

  ‘Oh gosh, I’m boring you already,’ said Hamsa, worried.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Eve. ‘It’s the jetlag. I’ve only been in the country for three days.’

  ‘So that’s why you’re starting school in the middle of Term 2?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Eve.

  ‘And you’ve flown in from …?’

  ‘San Francisco, in the States. We moved there are few years ago for my dad’s work, but now we’re back in Australia. I’ve moved around quite a lot.’

  ‘Wowsers, we’re like total opposites. I’ve been in the same house my whole life. Although I did get to move bedrooms when my little brothers were born. I have four of them.’

  ‘Four bedrooms?’ asked Eve.

  ‘I wish!’ said Hamsa. ‘No, brothers. Two older and twins who are younger. And they’re so stinky when they’re all together. Worse than pickled dog food left in the sun for weeks.’

  ‘Whoa. Major stink,’ agreed Eve. ‘It’s just me and Dad in my house. And I don’t think we smell too bad.’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t going to say anything, but …’ Hamsa waved her hand in front of her nose
, and the girls couldn’t help but laugh. When Hamsa noticed something over Eve’s shoulder, her face lit up. ‘Here come my friends. I’ll introduce you.’

  The group made their way over. ‘Everyone, this is Eve,’ said Hamsa proudly. ‘She’s new and she’s from America!’

  ‘I’m actually Aussie. I’ve just been living over there for a few years,’ said Eve.

  ‘Hi, I’m Zoe,’ said one of the girls taking a seat. The others joined her. ‘This is Sal, Michelle and Wai-Ling. You should sit with us today.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Eve, and Hamsa winked at her.

  ‘See,’ said Hamsa. ‘You’ll be feeling right at home in no time.’

  As they waited for their teacher to arrive, Hamsa admired Eve’s workbooks, each covered with detailed drawings. It wasn’t every day that she was the one to show the rest of her friends something (or someone) special.

  The morning flew by and before long the class were heading to one of their specialist lessons. Their teacher, Ms Atlas, led the way. It was only a short walk from the old brick building with all the Grade 5 and 6 classes, across the quadrangle to the new buildings on the other side.

  ‘Eve, have you had the grand tour around school yet?’ asked Ms Atlas. She was wearing a colourful dress, retro glasses and fun dangly earrings.

  ‘Not yet,’ Hamsa answered for her. ‘But I’ll get on to it at recess.’

  As they crossed the asphalt, marked with hopscotch and a handball court, the kids quickened their step.

  ‘Why the hurry?’ asked Eve.

  ‘This happens every time we go to the Making Room,’ said Hamsa, trying to keep up.

  Outside the classroom, Ms Atlas squeezed her way between the kids and unlocked the door. Hamsa and Eve were swept along as everyone bolted inside.

  ‘What is this place?’ said Eve, under her breath. It looked like a cross between an art room and computer lab, with tall workbenches in the middle and computers, machinery, sewing machines and open shelves stacked high with boxes around the walls.

  ‘I’ve saved us seats!’ called Hamsa, who had rushed ahead to lay claim to a bench with six stools.

  ‘C’mon,’ said Zoe, leading Eve along. They took their seats as Ms Atlas flicked on the computers and cleaned the whiteboard from the previous lesson.

  ‘Can we start already?’ called Ezra, his hand hovering over a box marked ‘Plastic Filaments – PLA’.

  ‘No,’ said Ms Atlas, laughing. ‘Sit still. Now, I have something exciting to share.’

  Ezra groaned. ‘But I want to finish making my two-faced dragon helmet.’

  ‘You heard right,’ said Hamsa, noticing Eve’s eyes pop out of her head. ‘There’s a 3D printer here and sometimes Ms Atlas gives us free reign. We can make whatever we want.’

  ‘Like what?’ asked Eve.

  Hamsa and her friends reached under the collars of their jumpers, pulling out five matching necklaces.

  ‘We made these,’ explained Wai-Ling. ‘Cool, huh?’

  Eve nodded as Hamsa handed hers over for closer inspection. The chain was made from white cord and the pendant was a purple diamond with letters inside.

  ‘It has all our initials,’ continued Zoe. ‘Sal designed it on the computer and then Michelle used that plastic string stuff and the 3D printer to make it.’

  ‘That’s awesome,’ said Eve as Ms Atlas finally coerced everyone into their seats.

  ‘I promise, we can use the printers another day,’ said Ms Atlas. ‘Today we’re doing something a little different in the Making Room. Drum roll, please.’

  The rumble of kids drumming on the benches and stamping their feet grew louder and faster as Ms Atlas wrote across the top of the whiteboard.

  ‘Let me introduce to you … THE HACKATHON!’ announced Ms Atlas, her face beaming.

  She was met with blank stares.

  ‘Hack-a-what?’ asked Hamsa.

  ‘Hackathon,’ repeated Ms Atlas.

  ‘Does that mean we stay up all night and hack into bank accounts?’ asked Richard.

  ‘No,’ said Ms Atlas.

  ‘It’s government files, isn’t it?’ said Richard excitedly. ‘Top-secret government files!’

  ‘Maybe it means we get to break the internet?’ called Ayla, from the front of the room.

  ‘Awesome!’ replied Ezra.

  ‘I’m so not a computer nerd,’ said Zoe, rolling her eyes. ‘Plus we could go to jail for hacking. My parents would be mega mad about that.’

  ‘Mine too,’ added Hamsa.

  While the students carried on, terrified and excited in equal measure, Ms Atlas leant back against the whiteboard. Her mouth curled into a smile, like she enjoyed watching her students’ minds run wild with possibilities. Finally, she reigned them in.

  ‘Sorry to disappoint the bank robbers and doomsday rebels out there, but you’re wrong about a Hackathon.’

  Niki put her hand up, which wasn’t surprising. She knew more about computers than anyone in the class. ‘They’re wrong about hacking too. It can mean those things, but since way back, it’s also had another meaning – to make.’

  ‘So that’s why we’ve come to the Making Room?’ called Ezra.

  ‘Bingo,’ said Ms Atlas. ‘Hacking can mean to make something roughly, to hack it together. Something that’s not perfect, but which keeps its shape and gets the idea across. Have you ever seen those videos online for “Life Hacks” or “Fashion Hacks”?’

  People nodded around the room.

  ‘That’s another form of hacking – it’s creative problem solving.’

  Niki’s hand went up again. ‘A Hackathon normally takes place over a weekend, right?’

  ‘Correct,’ said Ms Atlas. ‘But we’ll take a couple of weeks for ours. We’ll work in groups, find a worthwhile problem to solve and then use tech to tackle it. You will be creating your very own startups.’

  ‘Startups?’ asked Ezra.

  ‘It’s like a new business, isn’t it?’ said Ayla.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Ms Atlas. ‘Most tech businesses that are household names today, began life as a startup. Like Google – back in 1995, two university students started it in their dorm rooms. It was called “Backrub” then, but they soon changed its name and moved its office to a suburban garage. And now, years later, look at how massive it is!’

  ‘How do we decide what business to make?’ asked Niki.

  ‘It can be anything!’ said Ms Atlas. ‘So long as your business is solving a problem that people have. You might design an app. Or make a useful product. Or create software. When you’re finished, you’ll pitch your startups to the rest of the school. First, though, let’s get into groups of four.’

  As the class buzzed and kids moved into groups, Hamsa’s hand shot up. Ms Atlas came over.

  ‘Problem!’ said Hamsa. ‘We’ll need to be a group of six. We have five already and it’d be unfair to leave Eve out.’

  ‘I said groups of four,’ repeated Ms Atlas.

  ‘I don’t think you understand,’ said Hamsa.

  ‘No, I do,’ replied Ms Atlas, smiling. ‘You’ll work it out.’ She turned on her heel and walked off.

  Hamsa was worried. For years she’d drifted between friendship groups and being friends with Zoe was the closest she’d ever felt to having a solid girl gang. Whenever they got into groups for class projects, Hamsa always feared being the one left out.

  ‘Don’t stress about me,’ said Eve. She had her hands in her lap and nervously pulled the sleeves of her jumper up to cover them. ‘I’ll find some other people to go with.’

  ‘Thanks, Eve,’ said Zoe. ‘Hamsa, maybe you should go with her. I’d offer to go myself, but you’ve already done such a great job helping Eve settle in.’

  Hamsa still felt worried. ‘Okay. Thanks, but –’

  ‘Quick.’ Zoe took Hamsa’s hand. ‘I’ll help you find a group before you get stuck with the duds.’

  Hamsa scanned the room. Even Richard, still sulking about his spy career being so short-li
ved, had found a group. There were only two girls left.

  ‘Niki and Maggie,’ said Ms Atlas, ‘come join Hamsa and Eve.’

  Hamsa turned her necklace in one hand as she scooped up her book and pencil case in the other.

  ‘It sucks to be separated,’ said Zoe, ‘but we’ll catch you at recess, yeah?’

  Hamsa nodded, then she and Eve joined Niki and Maggie. It was the first time she’d been put in a group with the two of them. Great, she thought, I’m stuck with the number-one good girl and the number-one rebel.

  After they sat down, Niki eventually broke the silence. ‘We didn’t meet properly before. I’m Niki and this is Maggie.’

  ‘Hi, I’m Eve,’ said Eve, with a small wave.

  ‘How long did Ms Atlas say this project would take?’ asked Hamsa.

  Niki ruffled her blunt fringe, letting her hair hang over her eyebrows. ‘Couple of weeks.’

  Hamsa huffed and looked back at her friends. No matter how fun this project might be, being separated from them meant the weeks would feel like months.

  ‘We are HUSTLERS, HIPSTERS AND HACKERS.’

  ‘We are?’ asked Katherine, as Ms Atlas wrote these words on the whiteboard. Nearly everyone was curious, except Hamsa, who kept glancing back at her friends, worried what she was missing out on.

  ‘Let me explain.’ Ms Atlas pushed her glasses up along her nose. ‘Your groups will be made up of a hustler, a hipster and two hackers. First off, the hackers.’ She underlined the word on the board.

  ‘The hackers – also known as the coders – are the people who build the tech. They work with the hipster to make sure the design works and that everything functions well.’

  Zoe put up her hand. ‘Ms Atlas, no one in our team has coded before. We’re stuffed!’

  ‘I promise you’re not,’ said Ms Atlas. ‘We’re not building the next Facebook here. You’ll make what’s called an MVP – “Minimum Viable Product”, which is a fancy way of saying it’s the simplest form of your idea. Anyone can do it. Might be as simple as making a website with a free template.’