The Silicon Valley Connection

8 | aidan - print ('kickoff')

When you have a sibling, your parents try to reassure you that they love you both equally. But for some families, that's not the case. Take mine, for example.

I have never really been the type of person to really be envious of others. I grew up extremely privileged, and I acknowledge that. My father pitched the small startup when he was 21, and married my mother at 22, as they have been dating since high school. Hunter was born 19 years after and then I followed a year later.

Piper would've been the youngest at seventeen.

While my life may appear perfect on the outside, our inner family dynamic was like hurricane season. All of us may have been born in the United States, but I've never felt more out of place.

I give Hunter one last "I'm gonna kill you" look before reluctantly taking a seat across from Faith.

Marcus whips out his laptop. "Okay, so the roles are Programmer, Strategist, Project Lead, and Electrician. Programmer is literally what it sounds like: they would be the main person to code the robot and help the Electrician wire some. The Strategist is the point person for game tactics during Quals and Elims...if we make it that far, as well as helping with the robot in any way that's requested by the Project Lead. The Project Lead is the main CAD designer and the central being for all things fabrication and assembly for the robot. The Electrician does the main wiring for the bot."

I pray Hunter isn't going to be an ass these ten weeks. "I'll take the Programmer role," I say with confidence.

He nods and types it into the spreadsheet. "Alright. Next?"

My brother pipes up. "Of course, I'll be the Project Lead. Being the oldest one in this group, I'm positive I have enough technical experience."

"But not the maturity experience," I mutter under my breath. Faith snickers, and I grin a little, glad that I could raise her spirits a bit at my brother's expense.

"Actually, I think I would be a better Project Lead," Faith counters with a soft yet confident voice.

Most guys are intimidated by a woman's assertiveness--my father is a good example, but I think it's attractive as hell.

My brother huffs and slouches back in his seat. "There goes our already slim chances of winning. I'm just trying to save you the headache Faye, but it's your funeral. I'll take Strategist then."

"I guess that leaves Electrician for me," Marcus says.

Please don't be awkward, Aidan, please don't be awkward, Aidan. I extend my arm out to Faith. "I already have Marcus' phone number from last summer and Hunter's because well ya know...and I wanted to ask for yours so I can create a group chat and we can begin planning for our preliminary designs since we have our roles set."

Okay, that wasn't terrible. Could've gotten to the point faster, but not bad.

Just as Faith reaches out to grab my phone, Hunter jabs me hard in the side with his elbow; my arm retracts at the last minute, and I clutch the impacted area, wincing in pain.

"Seriously? Are we really going to do this right now? You being the most annoying pain in my ass?" I grumble under my breath.

"Yes. Yes, I am. Just know that if this was the workforce, Dad would disapprove of her being in our group anyway, especially if she's going to be the Project Lead," Hunter says with evident disgust, nodding in her direction.

By her raised eyebrows, she definitely caught the microaggression. I searched her face for a sign, some form of nonverbal communication to me if I needed to interfere.

There's nothing. A straight poker face.

She just lets out a strained cough, writes her number on a torn sheet of paper, and leads us out of the discussion room and back into the lecture. The four of us slink into chairs at the back while the professor talks about the syllabus. I turn to my brother with a scrutinizing and disgusted frown. "I truly wonder how you even get girlfriends. Might as well write 'I'm a racist and sexist piece of shit' on your forehead in permanent marker and call it a day." I say pointedly.

Swiveling in my chair towards the front, I scribble down notes as Professor Hale starts the lecture with the remaining fifty minutes of class.