Chapter 1

Life-changing events ought to come with a road sign and a warning label: "This Way to New Existence. Dangerous Curves Ahead." The one I'm writing about had neither. If I'd known what was coming -- well, who knows? I probably would have done the same thing, and certainly I've got no regrets. But I might have been a little bit better prepared.

As it was, all that I knew was that I was in danger of failing computer science, and I needed help. It was my own fault. I've always been a good student, and never had any trouble learning new things. By my junior year in college I was confident that there was no subject that I couldn't figure out on my own. I juggled classes, a job, extracurriculars (mainly the theater club), athletics (intramural tennis) and a boyfriend without ever letting anything get out of control.

This brings us to spring semester of junior year. Computers, I've been told, are the way of the future, so I thought it would be a good idea to know how they work. I enrolled in the class, blithely ignoring the professor's warning that there would be heavy programming requirements. The first couple of assignments weren't too bad. The third was tough; I spent twenty hours working on it, and still got it back with a mediocre grade. This shook my self-confidence a little, but I'm also stubborn as hell. I got assignment number four and struggled with it for more than a week, emerging with the feeling that I had just lost a wrestling match with a steam roller and hadn't slept in days. The last day to drop classes was rapidly approaching, but I didn't have another class to take its place. From being completely cocky at the beginning of the semester, I had become completely desperate.

The first place I looked for help was from my boyfriend, Brad. He was a senior, and had taken the class the year before, so I expected him to have some sympathy.

"Well, what did you think would happen?" he said. "I told you it was tough, Susan, and you took it anyway."

I bit back an angry reply. I needed his help, and besides, I didn't have the energy for a fight.

"I don't mind tough," I said, "but this is impossible."

"It isn't impossible," Brad said. "I took it, and didn't have this much trouble."

"Maybe you're better at this than me," I said. I knew Brad thought himself smarter than me, which usually annoyed me, but might make flattery work. No go.

"Sure. But that doesn't mean I should do your work for you," Brad said, which made me even madder.

"I don't want you to do it for me," I said between gritted teeth. "I just want some help!"

"Sorry," Brad shrugged. "I've got a more than full load myself. Spending hours leaning over a computer isn't my idea of a fun date."

At that I blew up and told him what kind of date he could expect with me. He stormed out, and I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling and wondering if I could make up an extra class next fall.

A knock came on the door, and my roommate stuck her head in. Arlene is Chinese, very small and pretty, with a cute, pixieish look that always makes me feel like a female elephant standing next to her. I'm over five ten, and the word "dainty" would never be applied to me. I'd been a chubby kid, and while that hadn't been true for years -- thanks to lots of hard work and hours of tennis practice -- the mental image still stuck with me.