Page 102 of The Sebastian Guarantee
“You can open your eyes and relax. And please, call me Phoebe,” she said, keeping her tone even. “Nobody’s going to jail or getting picked up by FBI agents, which, FYI, are actually a lot cooler than you’d think when they come to your elementary school after you’ve accidentally intentionally broken through their firewall.”
“You hacked into the FBI?” Eloise pressed, awe coating the question.
Phoebe bit back a grin. “On the record, no, I did not. That would be bad, very, very bad and very illegal.” She waved the girls in. “Off the record, yeah, totally. It was super cool.”
“You’re super cool,” Shelby replied, grinning from ear to ear.
Eloise remained pensive. She twisted her ponytail around her finger. “So, you heard us talking about hacking your app?”
“I did, and I’m impressed.”
“You are?” the girls yipped.
“You bet. I have some questions for you. Let’s sit,” Phoebe suggested and gestured to a table. She sank onto the plastic seat and set her tote aside as the girls joined her, one to her left while the other took the chair to her right. “Show me how you got into Munch Match, and then bring up your modified algorithm. I’d love to take a peek.”
Shelby opened her laptop. With a few key strikes, the Munch Match code appeared on the screen. “We got in with a backdoor hack. The lines of code that data mined for the wordshotanddogwere vulnerable.”
Taken down by a hot dog.
“That makes sense,” Phoebe replied, shaking her head. “Now show me how you modified the algorithm.”
“First, we were able to match a person to a shelter dog. We altered the algorithm to scrape trait information from different dogs’ descriptions on animal shelter web pages. Then we added lifestyle questions about the person—like whether they’re active or more of the homebody type. As we input more information, the algorithm was able to narrow down the choices and make a match.”
Phoebe studied the screen, eyeing the coding changes. “That’s a phenomenal way to use Munch Match.”
“It worked, too. We got a match,” Shelby continued. “Eloise’s dad said she couldn’t get a dog, but we had her dad take the Mutt Match survey.”
“Love the name,” Phoebe chimed.
“And now we’ve got Rosie, a Great Dane and Great Pyrenees mix. Check this out.” Eloise removed her phone from her pocket and pulled up a picture of a beaming older gentleman and an adorable black and white dog.
“I’m impressed by the both of you. Your names are Eloise and Shelby, right?”
“Yeah, that’s us,” Eloise replied. “Shel and I have been best friends since elementary school.”
Phoebe eyed the teens. “Are there other girls at your school who like to code?”
“No, it’s just us. Most girls in our high school only use their phones to post videos of themselves making duck lips,” Shelby answered and rolled her eyes.
Phoebe suppressed a grin. “I’m not a big fan of duck lips either,” she answered, then glanced into her tote and removed her beret. She put it on, feeling more like herself. “I’m a fan of walking to the beat of your own drum.”
“So are we,” Eloise replied and shared a smile with her best friend.
“Have you joined any groups online to find kids like you?” Phoebe tossed out, curious to hear their answer.
“You hear ‘girls in tech’ and ‘girl coder groups’ thrown around so much, you can’t tell if it’s a decent program or clickbait or worse,” Shelby offered with a shrug. “You never know which groups have real actual girls interested in tech or if it’s creepers and trolls looking to cause trouble. We stay away from those places online.”
“I get it,” Phoebe agreed. These girls, and others like them, needed a trusted place, vetted and monitored, where they could connect with like-minded young women. They needed Go Girl.
Eloise glanced at Shelby’s laptop. “Do you want us to delete everything we’ve done with your code, Phoebe? We promise we won’t tell anybody about it. We just wanted to figure out how it worked.”
Phoebe gazed at the screen, taking in the altered source code—her altered source code. She’d been so worried about what an investor would do if they had gotten ahold of her algorithm. She didn’t want one investment group to profit off it and potentially harm the food truck vendors she’d helped—or worse, sell it to a company that would shelve it to reduce competition. She couldn’t let that happen. These girls had proved that the Munch Match algorithm’s possibilities were endless.
And all at once, she knew how to protect what she’d created.
She grabbed her laptop out of her bag and logged into her Foot Tap Studio files. “I’m about to do something a little bit crazy.” Her fingers danced over the keys, and again, she got the distinct feeling she wasn’t alone. Yes, the girls were with her, but something else was driving her forward, a presence reassuring her. She finished typing, rested her hands in her lap, and stared at the screen. “It’s done. Go to the Foot Tap Studio website and check for an update.”
Thetap, tap, tapof the girls typing on their keyboards punctuated the expectant air. And then, it was quiet.
