Girl Geeks: The Hackathon Page 2

  ‘Fine,’ said Zoe, as Ms Atlas underlined the next word on the board.

  ‘The hipster,’ she said, ‘is the designer. They’re all about getting the look, feel and user experience right. Do we have any hipsters in the house?’

  While a few hands went up, Eve moved hers over her book to cover the sketches she’d drawn. Hamsa thought she seemed embarrassed, but she didn’t understand why.

  ‘Lastly, the hustler,’ said Ms Atlas. ‘They’re the organiser. They’re the leader, but not the boss. If you love to-do lists and talking the talk, hustler is the job for you.’

  Ms Atlas continued explaining each of the roles. She then drew circles around the words Hustler, Hipster and Hacker, making them cross over in the middle.

  She pointed at the circles she’d drawn. ‘Anyone seen one of these before?’

  Eve and Maggie raised their hands, and when they noticed each other, shared a smile.

  ‘You go,’ said Maggie softly.

  Eve cleared her throat. ‘Is it a Venn diagram?’

  ‘Spot-on,’ said Ms Atlas. ‘See how the circles intersect? That means that each of these roles overlap a bit. You can all think about how to build your idea. You can all have design input, and you can all help pitch and hustle your startup. I’ll give you a few minutes to decide your roles.’

  While each group huddled in closely, Eve, Hamsa, Niki and Maggie sat in silence.

  ‘I’m clearly not the hacker,’ said Hamsa finally. ‘In fact, I’ll be rubbish at all of this.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ said Eve.

  ‘And a tad dramatic,’ said Niki.

  Hamsa scoffed and turned her back on them. None of her friends seemed interested in the Hackathon, so why should she be?

  ‘I love coding – surprise, surprise,’ said Niki. ‘So I’ll be one of the hackers, if that suits everyone. Maggie, what about you?’

  Maggie straightened the book and pencil in front of her. ‘I’ll be anything but the hustler.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Niki. ‘Eve, I saw the drawings on the outside of your notebook. They’re great – did you want to be the hipster?’

  ‘I’m not that good,’ said Eve, blushing.

  ‘Don’t talk about yourself like that,’ ordered Niki. She grabbed Eve’s notebook. ‘Look, you’re a natural. You should totally be the hipster. That means Maggie can be a hacker with me, and, Hamsa, you can be the hustler.’

  Hamsa pretended not to hear them.

  ‘Hamsa?’ asked Niki again. ‘You cool with being the hustler?’

  Hamsa sighed loud enough for the others to hear. Looking back to her friends’ table, she saw that Zoe had become the hustler too. Suddenly, the role didn’t seem so bad. ‘Okay,’ she said, without turning back. She knew she was being childish, but she was too annoyed to care.

  When Ms Atlas saw that most groups were set up, she went back to the whiteboard. ‘I’m going to throw a lot of terms at you: MVPs, APIs, CMSs –’

  ‘OMG!’ said Zoe, covering her head with her hands.

  Ms Atlas smiled. ‘It may feel overwhelming, but I promise you’ll be all over it by the end of the Hackathon. First up, let’s get all the hackers, hipsters and hustlers into separate groups to learn more about your roles.’

  Finally, Hamsa had a spring in her step. She sprinted to the group of hustlers gathering near the whiteboard. She squeezed her way into a seat next to Zoe.

  Ms Atlas joined their group first. ‘Howdy, hustlers,’ she said in a voice that sounded like she was in an old cowboy movie. ‘Ready to flex your hustle muscles?’

  Hamsa and Zoe shared a look and couldn’t help but giggle.

  ‘If this project was about sport and using actual muscles, we’d nail it,’ said Zoe. ‘But with all this geeky tech stuff, we’re both going to fail!’

  Hamsa nodded. ‘At least we can be stuffed together,’ she said with a wink.

  Ms Atlas wrote some notes up on the board. ‘Hustlers have three main jobs – project management, idea validation and the pitch. Let’s talk project management first. It basically means being the organiser. You need to keep things on track and keep your teammates happy and motivated.’

  ‘How do we do that?’ asked Katherine, who was listening carefully.

  ‘In a couple of ways,’ said Ms Atlas. She picked up her tablet and, with a few swipes and taps, her screen displayed on the whiteboard. Then she opened up a web browser showing something that looked like an online chat feed.

  ‘Each of you will create a feed like this for your team. It’s exactly what real tech companies use to manage projects. You can chat, upload files, share links and set up different channels for different types of conversations, such as design, build or content.’

  ‘Lucky,’ said Zoe. ‘At least we won’t get brained out by all that hacker talk.’

  Hamsa nodded.

  ‘I’ll show you how to set up your feed and then you can invite your teammates to join,’ said Ms Atlas.

  ‘What’s next?’ asked Ezra, who looked equally as excited as Katherine.

  ‘Setting up a timeline and working out your deadlines,’ said Ms Atlas. ‘The whole team will be working hard, but the hustler has to be across all the tasks and make sure everyone stays on track.’

  I’d be okay at doing that, thought Hamsa.

  ‘Next up … idea validation,’ said Ms Atlas. ‘This means doing research and checking if your startup idea will work. You could survey your intended audience and research your competitors. It’s great to want to solve a problem, but we often forget who we are solving the problem for. Who will use our product when we finish it?’

  Ezra put up his hand, looking worried. ‘If we find competitors, doesn’t that mean the idea already exists or that problem has already been solved? Do we have to start over again?’

  ‘No,’ Ms Atlas reassured him. ‘It just means you should try to find a gap in the market. What could your app do that’s different or better than the competitors? Maybe you can choose a different audience. We’ll go through all of this later in the week, once you’ve decided on a problem you’d like to solve and how you are going to tackle it. Oh, and I highly recommend you start an ideas book. It’s kind of like a journal, but it’s used to store all your brilliant brainwaves.’

  Katherine flipped her notebook back to the front page and wrote ‘My Ideas Book – TOP SECRET!’ in thick red marker. ‘Next?’ she said.

  ‘Next, and lastly,’ Ms Atlas went on, ‘the hustler is responsible for the pitch, which is when you get up in front of everyone, explain your idea and make them fall in love with it!’

  Ezra looked worried again. ‘Ms Atlas, you know I hate public speaking.’

  ‘Please don’t worry, Ezra,’ said Ms Atlas. ‘The hustler organises the pitch, and you’re normally the main speaker, but the whole group is involved. We’re going to do a Halfway Hack too.’

  ‘All these names are so weird,’ said Zoe.

  ‘The Halfway Hack is our chance to check in on all the teams halfway through the project,’ said Ms Atlas. ‘We’ll do a practice pitch too so you can get rid of any nerves before you’re up in front of the whole school.’

  ‘Phew,’ said Ezra, as Hamsa saw him wipe away the sweat that had gathered above his eyebrows.

  ‘Those are the basics for now,’ said Ms Atlas. I’m going to zip around to the other groups. In the meantime, fetch your tablets and start setting up your team message feeds. Whether you’re a coding whiz or you have zero experience, you’re going to love the Hackathon. Trust me.’

  Ms Atlas’s smile was as bright as the polka dots on her dress, and Hamsa couldn’t help feeling that she was talking directly to her.

  The following afternoon, the girls walked from school to Eve’s house. That is, Eve, her dad, Hamsa and Maggie walked, while Niki coasted on her skateboard a few paces in front. Having thought about the invitation to Eve’s house all night, Hamsa had decided that her friends couldn’t be upset with her hanging out with another group if they didn
’t know about it. Surely a few peanuts wouldn’t come between them.

  ‘Hold on, this is us,’ called Eve’s dad, when Niki passed their house. It was a small old-fashioned brick building with a bright red front door. Eve’s dad opened the gate. ‘Welcome to PB&J HQ. Headquarters for the Scientific Exploration of Peanut Butter and Jelly!’

  ‘Daaaad,’ said Eve, her cheeks turning the colour of her door.

  ‘You think that’s embarrassing,’ whispered Hamsa. ‘One time my dad tried to call me using the TV remote instead of his phone.’

  Once inside, Eve led the girls down the hallway and straight through to the kitchen and living room. Hamsa peeked into each room as they passed. Eve had been right – they’d barely unpacked, but she did notice a single photo frame on the hallway table. It looked like a younger version of Eve’s dad, with a woman cuddling a baby. Hamsa stopped to look at it, guessing that it was Eve and her mum, before catching up to the others.

  ‘Voilà!’ said Eve’s dad, unveiling the kitchen bench. He’d set up plates and knives for the girls, then further back on the bench there were two rows of little bowls, each numbered one to five. One row was of peanut butters, the other was jams.

  He swung a tea towel over his shoulder, like a proud chef. ‘Everyone’s tastebuds are different, so I’ve worked out how you can find the perfect combination. We’ve got crunchy peanut butter, smooth, salted, unsalted and a special one we brought over from the States. Same with the jam – there are five different types to try. I’ve put out some paper and pens so you can keep track of all the different combinations and rate each one. Let’s go!’

  While Eve’s dad grabbed a loaf of bread and started cutting it into soldiers, the girls perched themselves on wooden stools around the kitchen bench.

  ‘How will we know what’s what?’ asked Hamsa.

  ‘You won’t, but that’s the point,’ said Eve. ‘It’s a blind taste test.’

  ‘I had no idea there was such an art to sandwich spreads,’ said Niki.

  ‘An art? Or is it a science?’ said Maggie.

  ‘You’re right!’ said Eve. ‘It’s like a chemical reaction of deliciousness in your mouth.’

  With bread soldiers in one hand and knives in the other, the girls made a start, lathering the bread with different condiments.

  ‘Here goes nothing,’ said Hamsa, scrunching up her nose, squinting and taking a bite. The girls watched on eagerly. ‘You know … it’s not awful,’ she said, smearing on more jam.

  ‘I told you!’ said Eve. She closed her eyes and took a bite. ‘This tastes like home.’

  ‘I thought you were born in Australia,’ said Niki.

  ‘I was. It just doesn’t feel like home here yet.’

  ‘Do you miss San Francisco?’ asked Hamsa.

  ‘Heaps,’ said Eve. ‘I miss the smell of caramel popcorn at our local cinema, and the park where we’d ride our bikes on warm summer nights, and the diner down the road that did the best chocolate sundaes. And my –’ Eve paused, worried that she might offend them. ‘Sorry, it’s great being here with you too. It’s just …’

  Eve couldn’t seem to find the right words.

  ‘Different,’ suggested Maggie with a gentle smile.

  Eve nodded. ‘But good different.’

  Hamsa took another bite. Being with these girls felt ‘good different’ for her too, even though they were the total opposite of her other friends. She felt guilty having so much fun without Zoe, Wai-Ling, Sal and Michelle, but at the same time she was starting to feel that opposites made sense being together somehow – kind of like peanut butter and jelly.

  The girls worked their way through half a loaf of bread, sampling different combinations and marking their scores. Maggie had worked out the best scoring system by using a graph. She’d guessed the condiment types and drew the peanut butters along one axis, and the types of jams along the other. She then gave ticks for the ones she liked best.

  ‘Make sure you swish some water around your mouth in between each sample. You don’t want to contaminate the experiment,’ instructed Hamsa.

  ‘Sure thing, bossy boots,’ said Niki playfully.

  Hamsa poked her tongue out at Niki – she isn’t so scary once you get to know her.

  ‘Look at Maggie’s graph,’ said Eve. ‘You loved all those ones around there.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Hamsa, comparing her own scores. ‘Me too.’

  Niki shook her head. ‘Too salty. And weird consistency with that jam.’

  Maggie slid her piece of paper across the bench and pointed out the cluster of ticks on the graph. ‘You’re right. These were my favourites. Oh, and this outlier too.’

  The girls stopped and looked at her.

  ‘What on earth is an outlier?’ asked Hamsa.

  Maggie seemed to shrink a little in her chair. ‘Um, it’s a value that’s out on its own, far away from all the other values. At least I think that’s what it is.’

  Eve’s dad nodded. ‘She’s right.’

  ‘Whoa,’ said Hamsa. ‘You’re smart.’

  Maggie shook her head.

  ‘Don’t be embarrassed. Being smart is cool,’ said Niki. She leant back on her seat, rubbing her belly. ‘Gotta say, though, I am so full. We’re not going to eat all twenty-five soldiers in this experiment, are we?’

  ‘If everyone’s full, we can crash on the couch until your parents come,’ suggested Eve.

  They headed over, plonking themselves down and massaging their bursting bellies. Hamsa inspected the room. The TV was resting on an empty display cabinet and there were half-emptied moving boxes and packaging everywhere.

  ‘Sorry again about the mess,’ said Eve.

  ‘Don’t apologise,’ said Hamsa. ‘I love bubble wrap.’ She picked up a stray sheet, popping it between her fingers.

  ‘Plastic is horrible,’ said Niki.

  Hamsa rolled her eyes and flung the bubble wrap onto the floor.

  ‘What?’ Niki continued. ‘It is horrible. Did you know that millions of tonnes of plastic waste leaks into the ocean every year?!’

  ‘I’m not denying that,’ said Hamsa. ‘I’m not head of the plastic cheer squad! I just like playing with bubble wrap. What’s wrong with that?’

  While Niki pleaded her case, Hamsa was busy thinking of a comeback. She knew Niki was right, but in a weird way it was fun to argue with her.

  ‘You know, it’d make a good idea,’ said Eve, raising her voice to get their attention.

  ‘What would?’ asked Niki.

  ‘Plastics. For the Hackathon,’ explained Eve. ‘We could come up with an app or something that helps people reduce how much plastic they use.’

  ‘It could show a map of your local waterways so you can see how much damage you’re doing,’ said Niki, staring into the distance, like she was thinking it through. ‘Make people feel so guilty that they have no choice but to use less.’

  ‘Or we could do the opposite,’ said Hamsa. ‘Like, have a reward system for every time you choose a plastic alternative.’

  ‘The points could unlock different levels of a game,’ added Niki.

  ‘Yeah, or videos of unicorns?’ Eve giggled.

  ‘Yes!’ squealed Hamsa, before trying to play it cool. ‘I mean, that could work.’

  Remembering what Ms Atlas had taught the hustlers, Hamsa knew she had to take charge. She rushed to the kitchen bench, grabbing the pens from their taste test. ‘These ideas are too good – we can’t risk losing them. May I?’ She pointed to one of the large cardboard boxes. Eve nodded, even though she wasn’t sure what Hamsa needed it for. Hamsa pulled it closer to the couch and wrote ‘Hackathon Ideas’ across the top, using the box like a whiteboard. ‘Okay, we’ve got ocean maps, we’ve got reward systems, keep firing ideas at me!’

  Before long, they’d filled their makeshift whiteboard with notes.

  ‘Cool,’ said Hamsa. ‘Now all that’s left to do is build it.’

  ‘What?’ said Niki. ‘We can’t do everything on the board.’


  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you’re not the hackers who have to build it!’ barked Niki.

  ‘We’ll work it out,’ said Hamsa, trying to sound motivational. ‘The first step is validation anyway.’

  They stood back and looked at their ideas while Niki snapped a photo on her phone, ensuring they had a backup copy.

  ‘Go, team,’ cheered Hamsa. ‘That was easier than I thought it would be.’

  And she wasn’t just talking about coming up with their Hackathon idea. Being away from Zoe and her friends felt easy too. It felt relaxed, fun and exciting all at the same time. And it was a feeling Hamsa wanted to have more of.

  The following week, Hamsa’s class were eating lunch in their classroom while Ms Atlas took a phone call at her desk up the front. Of course, the best smelling food usually came from Katherine’s table. But today, Hamsa thought hers trumped them all.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Zoe, pointing at Hamsa’s lunch.

  Hamsa pulled the paper back on her chicken curry wrap, giving the girls a look. ‘We had Mum’s family over for dinner last night – all ten thousand of them. My ammama and Mum always cook up a feast and we end up with leftovers for the whole week. It’s delish – want to try some?’

  Hamsa offered it to Zoe, but she scrunched up her nose. ‘No thanks.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Hamsa, a little disappointed.

  ‘It smells great,’ said Eve quickly, like she was trying to cheer Hamsa up. ‘I mean, it’s no PB&J, but it’s a close second.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Hamsa, taking another bite, although after Zoe’s comments, it no longer tasted quite as good.

  Eve pulled an apple out of her patterned lunch bag. Hamsa loved that bag, especially compared to her hand-me-down blue plastic lunch box. It looked so trendy, like it had the power to make stale biscuits and mouldy yoghurt taste good.

  ‘Guess who that was on the phone?’ said Ms Atlas, stowing away her phone in her dress pocket. ‘Hamsa, it was your mum.’