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Authors: Lauren Gibaldi
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What will I do next year instead? I didn’t apply to a backup school, which was stupid, but I just couldn’t be bothered to. I wanted to get away, I wanted this.
“Open it! Open it!” Cindy says, jumping in her seat.
“I . . . ,” I start, looking at the letter. “I can’t.”
“Oh my God, yes you can. You got in, look at it,” Kat says, pointing to the envelope.
“But what if I didn’t?” I ask, and they see the look in myeyes. They see that I’m worried.
“Give it to me,” Kat says, grabbing the letter. Yes, she’s abrasive, but I need abrasive right now. “Dear Matthew Grayson. Your last name is Grayson? Huh,” she says, and I stare at her, begging her to continue. My heart is racing, my head throbbing. “We’re pleased to inform you that . . . blah blah blah . . . YOU GOT IN.”
I register them cheering in the background. I register the hum and dull noise of the bookstore. I register the table in front of me, and the paper being thrust in my hands. But it doesn’t feel real. And then everything becomes Technicolor and I break out of my haze. Because I’m doing this. I’m really doing it.
“You did it!” Cindy screams, and I break out laughing, eyes-closed laughing, because I did it. I’m making my own path instead of following my family’s. I’m taking things into my own hands.
I’m starting over.
I know we cheer, and I know we hug, and I know we decide that the purple microwave is much better than the pink one. But I’m not here anymore. I’m not in Houston. I’m already in Seattle, staring at the new life ahead of me. And despite the excitement, there’s still a nagging feeling, a string getting thinner and tighter around me that feels like it’s about to break. But I shake my head and ignore it. Leave it for another time. Let me enjoy my moment now.
CHAPTER 10
“Matt,” my mom says excitedly when I get home, “I’m in the kitchen.”
“Coming,” I say, acceptance letter in hand. I know she’ll be thrilled. “Hey, I have good news.”
“And I think you’re about to have some more!” she says, handing me a large envelope. I look at the return address—University of Central Florida.
“What’s this?”
“I’m not sure, but I think it’s your response from UCF. And by the looks of it, it looks pretty good!” She’s standing next to me, bouncing excitedly.
“Oh . . .”
“Oh?” she asks, her smile dropping.
“I forgot—I mean, I just . . . I don’t want to go there.”
“At least see if you got in, honey. It’s an option,” she says, trying to reassure me, but I didn’t want this. I wanted to forget about that school, especially now that I’ve got another acceptance letter. “I know something went on there, but it can’t be so bad that you can’t go back for school.”
I shake my head. She’s right that people can’t keep me from a city, they can’t kick me out, but why go back to somewhere that holds such mixed memories? Why not move on?
“I didn’t—I just—ugh,” I say, crashing onto the counter. I know I’m being ridiculous, that I shouldn’t complain if another school wants me, but ugh.
“You don’t have to go there, you know, you can just say no,” she says.
“Yeah, I know,” I say, wondering if saying no could be as freeing as saying yes.
“At least open it,” she says, pushing it toward me. I look at the envelope and know what’s going to happen. This isn’t like before—Cindy and Kat aren’t cheering in unison. I’m not envisioning my future. I open the paper and, yes, I did get in, and yes, they’re excited to have me. I even got a scholarship. Great.
“I got in,” I say. “I also got into University of Washington.” I hand her my letter from earlier. “I’m going to go there.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so proud,” she says, sweeping me up fora hug, but I’m not in a hugging mood. I’m done with hugging and thinking. The excitement is completely gone. I thank my mom and take my
“Open it! Open it!” Cindy says, jumping in her seat.
“I . . . ,” I start, looking at the letter. “I can’t.”
“Oh my God, yes you can. You got in, look at it,” Kat says, pointing to the envelope.
“But what if I didn’t?” I ask, and they see the look in myeyes. They see that I’m worried.
“Give it to me,” Kat says, grabbing the letter. Yes, she’s abrasive, but I need abrasive right now. “Dear Matthew Grayson. Your last name is Grayson? Huh,” she says, and I stare at her, begging her to continue. My heart is racing, my head throbbing. “We’re pleased to inform you that . . . blah blah blah . . . YOU GOT IN.”
I register them cheering in the background. I register the hum and dull noise of the bookstore. I register the table in front of me, and the paper being thrust in my hands. But it doesn’t feel real. And then everything becomes Technicolor and I break out of my haze. Because I’m doing this. I’m really doing it.
“You did it!” Cindy screams, and I break out laughing, eyes-closed laughing, because I did it. I’m making my own path instead of following my family’s. I’m taking things into my own hands.
I’m starting over.
I know we cheer, and I know we hug, and I know we decide that the purple microwave is much better than the pink one. But I’m not here anymore. I’m not in Houston. I’m already in Seattle, staring at the new life ahead of me. And despite the excitement, there’s still a nagging feeling, a string getting thinner and tighter around me that feels like it’s about to break. But I shake my head and ignore it. Leave it for another time. Let me enjoy my moment now.
CHAPTER 10
“Matt,” my mom says excitedly when I get home, “I’m in the kitchen.”
“Coming,” I say, acceptance letter in hand. I know she’ll be thrilled. “Hey, I have good news.”
“And I think you’re about to have some more!” she says, handing me a large envelope. I look at the return address—University of Central Florida.
“What’s this?”
“I’m not sure, but I think it’s your response from UCF. And by the looks of it, it looks pretty good!” She’s standing next to me, bouncing excitedly.
“Oh . . .”
“Oh?” she asks, her smile dropping.
“I forgot—I mean, I just . . . I don’t want to go there.”
“At least see if you got in, honey. It’s an option,” she says, trying to reassure me, but I didn’t want this. I wanted to forget about that school, especially now that I’ve got another acceptance letter. “I know something went on there, but it can’t be so bad that you can’t go back for school.”
I shake my head. She’s right that people can’t keep me from a city, they can’t kick me out, but why go back to somewhere that holds such mixed memories? Why not move on?
“I didn’t—I just—ugh,” I say, crashing onto the counter. I know I’m being ridiculous, that I shouldn’t complain if another school wants me, but ugh.
“You don’t have to go there, you know, you can just say no,” she says.
“Yeah, I know,” I say, wondering if saying no could be as freeing as saying yes.
“At least open it,” she says, pushing it toward me. I look at the envelope and know what’s going to happen. This isn’t like before—Cindy and Kat aren’t cheering in unison. I’m not envisioning my future. I open the paper and, yes, I did get in, and yes, they’re excited to have me. I even got a scholarship. Great.
“I got in,” I say. “I also got into University of Washington.” I hand her my letter from earlier. “I’m going to go there.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so proud,” she says, sweeping me up fora hug, but I’m not in a hugging mood. I’m done with hugging and thinking. The excitement is completely gone. I thank my mom and take my
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