Schooled

Chapter 35

The next week I dove into the website, retrieving all my sketches, quotes, and notes before calling up the developers. Some guy named Tony who was probably my age pulled up his files as I sat on the other end of the line.

"So can we do this scope of work on budget in six weeks?"

Tony paused again and when he spoke, I heard mild confusion in his tone. "I think so. Listen, we're not in the business of cutting ourselves out, but it looks pretty good to me. Remind me what you're looking to change?"

I popped open a window and put in our web address, something I hadn't done since we bought the domain name last fall. Instead of a blank page staring back at me, I found something else entirely.

"Travesty" was written across the screen in black script, along with an edgy graphic treatment for the menu across the top.

My head was suddenly spinning. "Uh, Tony, I'll call you back," I said, clicking off distractedly.

It wasn't a blank page. It was a website. Our website, in fact. The one I'd outlined in the business plan. How the hell had this happened?

"Ava!" I hollered over my shoulder. I heard her feet on the floor rather than saw her enter, as I was completely transfixed by what was on my screen.

She peered over my shoulder and gaped. "This is freaking amazing! Did you do this?"

I shook my head no, confused anew. "You didn't?"

"Hell no."

My fingers continued to click through the navigation, page after page shining out at me from the glossy screen. The "About" section said we were based out of New York and California. There was a strip of pictures of me and Ava, like the kind you took in a photo booth at the mall, running diagonally down the page, but the way it was styled and matched with the web page made it look chic. Ava and I had taken them last year and she had the copies.

Not Kirsten.

Realization dawned on Ava's face as she took in the photos, her mind clearly working through the same logic. "These photos were on my bulletin board at home. The only people who could've seen them were my parents, and they wouldn't know what to do with a website if it hit them in the face.

"Or ..."

Dylan. Our minds landed on it at the same time.

What? He'd made me—us—a website? I guess he'd gone through my notes often enough when we had been hanging out to know what we had planned. Come to think of it, he might have even offered suggestion on a few points.

But more importantly, why? And when?

Chunks of the website text were still unfinished, as would be expected. But most of the heavy lifting to setup the theme and navigation had been done, and done beautifully.

I didn't want to think about how much it had cost him. But I knew that as much as the site was helpful it was also symbolic. He wanted me to know that he supported me. Supported us.

I scrolled all the way to the bottom, where the developer's name resided in tiny print. Next to it was a message: Merry Christmas, Lex. If I hadn't already been sitting, I probably would've collapsed as the energy whooshed out of me. He'd done this more than three months ago. And hadn't told me.

Ava's eyes widened. "Dayum," she said, flopping ungracefully and un-Ava-like into a chair. "He can be a bossy asshole sometimes, but you've got to admit this is a pretty epic gift.

"Lex, you OK?" She grabbed the arms of my task chair and swiveled me away from my computer screen to face her.

I was all ready to insist that it had just been a long week, that this had been unexpected, and I was simply overwhelmed. To my horror, tears began welling up behind my eyes. Spilled over onto my cheeks.