Chapter 12: Shadow Code
They say imitation is the highest form of flattery.
Tell that to someone whose app is possibly getting cloned… in real-time.
By Tuesday morning, we were running on cereal, adrenaline, and barely functioning nerves. LearnArena had survived its chaotic classroom debut in Mr. Kovac's lab. But now?
Now, we had a bigger problem.
Someone out there was sniffing around our code.
And I didn't like it.
"Who would even want to copy us?" Kwame asked, staring at the firewall code like it was written in Klingon.
"Anyone who saw a viral idea," Sarah said. "Think about it. We built a challenge-based learning platform that actually works. If you were a bored tech kid with skills and no shame, wouldn't you want in too?"
Javier squinted at the logs. "But we didn't upload this anywhere public. How could anyone find it?"
"Maybe someone in the test class," Zoey offered. "Or a teacher. Or—plot twist—a ghost."
"Please don't say ghosts," I muttered, typing furiously. "We can't debug the supernatural."
ChatGPT popped up with a calm message that did not help my anxiety:
> Suspicious traffic detected. External IP traced to a private educational startup server in Accra.
"Wait…" I blinked. "I know that name."
EduBrawl.
A startup I'd heard about during Nationals. Sarah had debated against their founder—Leslie Mensah—the smug boy genius who once said, "True innovation only comes from adults with capital, not from teenagers playing CEO in garages."
Well, guess who was about to play CEO louder?
---
We went into full stealth mode.
Sarah suggested we give the app a temporary codename.
Javier suggested "Project Banana Blaze."
Zoey suggested "Stealth School Strike Force."
Sarah ignored both and calmly wrote "Project EmberMind" on the whiteboard.
That stuck.
---
First priority: Security.
We layered LearnArena with basic encryption, rerouted server traffic, and locked all builds behind a dynamic passcode system. Only the core team could access the live version.
Second priority: Tracking.
Javier embedded invisible tripwires in the source code—nothing illegal, just clever little pings. If someone copied our backend logic or tried to reuse our avatar system, we'd get a silent alert.
"If they lift our system," he said, "we'll know before they finish hitting paste."
---
We didn't have to wait long.
Wednesday morning, during second period, it happened.
An alert popped up.
Ping: Clone activity detected.
A beta version of an app called EduBrawl was live on a student tech forum. Same challenge system. Same "smart point" reward algorithm. Even the leaderboard looked like ours from last week.
"They didn't even bother to change the color palette," Zoey said, disgusted. "That's just lazy theft."
Sarah stood over my shoulder, arms crossed. "Do we call him out?"
I shook my head. "No. We go bigger."
"Bigger how?"
"We go public."
---
We went all in on an official LearnArena launch—for our school, at least. Sarah whipped up a sleek digital campaign with the tagline:
> "Learning shouldn't be boring. It should be earned."
We printed posters. Created QR code flyers. Cut a teaser video using battle footage from Mr. Kovac's class. (We edited out the fart jokes. Barely.)
Even ChatGPT helped polish the branding:
> "Unlock your brain. Compete to learn. Welcome to LearnArena."
By Thursday night, our school-wide launch was ready.
---
Launch Day: Friday
As soon as school Wi-Fi came online, phones across campus lit up.
We kicked things off during assembly with one QR code projected on the big screen. No long speeches—just a simple challenge:
> "Top 3 on the leaderboard by lunch gets free pizza and infinite bragging rights."
By first break, half the student body was playing.
By lunch?
Everyone.
Kwame had to rig two extra fans to our server just to keep it from melting. Miss Dicshard tried confiscating phones—until someone caught her watching a math duel with a suspicious amount of interest.
And the best part?
We beat EduBrawl to launch.
Louder. Cleaner. Smarter.
---
That afternoon, I got a DM on Instagram.
@lesliemensah__: Cute launch. Hope it scales.
I stared at the message for a second too long.
Sarah leaned over my shoulder and smirked. "Ignore him. He's just noise."
"No," I said, grinning. "He's fuel."
---
Back in the garage, the mood was electric.
Javier danced with a slice of pizza like we just rang the Nasdaq bell. Kwame snored on the beanbag chair. Zoey made new avatar skins—complete with flaming pencils and animated book shields.
And Sarah?
She just looked at me.
"You know this was just our first win, right?"
"Yeah," I said. "But it felt really good."
She nodded. "Let's make sure it's not our last."
ChatGPT buzzed to life behind us.
> Live leaderboard updated. LearnArena users: 146 and rising.
I leaned back and smiled.
We weren't just kids anymore.
We were a startup.
And now—we had competition.
Let the real game begin.