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Date: October 20th, 2018, 4 a.m.
Location: Tinsley’s birthday party
Milo
I deserve to be accepted to Eastvale because...
The words stared at me from the lined notepad paper, mocking me. I crumpled up the empty sheet with a groan, tossing it to the trash can in the corner of my room and missing it. For fuck's sake. I turned my attention back to my computer where an equally unfinished draft was waiting for me to add my reasons for wanting to get into the college of my dreams. Why did I think writing it by hand would be easier?
Everyone just lies on those goddamn essays, Milo, my brother's voice echoed in my head from hours earlier, when he'd been setting out for a party and I was still stuck on that same fucking question. Why can't you just make something up?
It was all so easy for my brother. He’d always been the kind of easygoing guy who didn’t care whether he got into the college of his dreams – or a college at all. Our parents’ success with their food delivery app Yummers was enough to get him an entry ticket into any school he wanted. But I didn’t want to get in just because my parents had money. I wanted my acceptance letter to matter.
It felt wrong to even consider it. I wasn't an emotional guy. I was the rock of the family. The rational one. And I was going to get this stupid essay done if it was the last thing I did.
Despite my best intentions, I found myself reaching for my phone and flopping down on the bed as I scrolled through my notifications. Thirsty cheerleaders, hopeful geeks and a couple pf lacrosse buddies had slid into my DM’s. Nothing new. The prospect of going to Eastvale was the brightest spot in my future. Nothing else excited me. Life was boring when you had it all. Mind-numbingly boring.
There's got to be something I can put on that goddamn page, I told myself. Something about growing up with gay Dads, learning the importance of family, blah-the-fucking-blah. But the thought didn't stick. My mind raced through idea after idea, but nothing stood out. I sighed in frustration, running my hand through my raven hair and pushing my glasses higher on the bridge of my nose. Fuck Eastvale, and fuck this essay.
Once again, I remembered the invite to Tinsley Sullivan's birthday party I'd gotten that week. Everyone was going to be there, and even I'd allowed myself the option of showing up. But not like this, with the essay unfinished and feeling pissed at myself for not knowing what to write. The deadline for the early admissions was the next morning, and I'd already blown off Miss James with excuse after excuse, forcing her to give me her home address so I could deliver the printed pages in the morning. But nothing helped, not even the impending feeling of doom, knowing it was four a.m. and I had barely even gotten started.
Switching my attention from the empty document on my PC and my phone, I tried to find something that would distract me. A sliver of inspiration, a picture that would jolt my mind like it usually happened. But there was nothing, not even in the vast wasteland of the internet, that could make me write that fucking essay. I was well and truly exhausted, drained by that one question that made me want to write the truth.
I don't deserve to be accepted to Eastvale at all.
My phone pinged with a notification, and I picked it up, glancing at the screen.
Are you still up? I texted Natan. but he isn't replying.
Another groan, another roll of my eyes. Just what I need. A selfish, spoiled princess asking for yet another favor that she'll never pay the fuck back.
No, I'm asleep, I typed in response, pausing for a moment before adding the last part. Why, are you currently in a life-threatening situation?
Because there’s no other way in hell I’m getting up for you otherwise.
The answer came back in a second, making me smirk at the thought of her typing it out at a breakneck pace. Yes. You'd better come get me. And bring some burgers.
The entitlement is real, huh? No, forget it.
Please, Milo! I’ll owe you forever.
How about you don’t owe me at all, and you just let me go back to sleep.
I still remember your insomnia, jerk, she wrote. Don’t lie to me.
Not lying. If I come pick you up, you owe me one. Got it?
Her reply came a minute later. I could just picture her fidgeting with her phone, trying to think of something clever to say in response.
Got it. I owe you one. Anything you want. Deal?
Not waiting for her reply, I tossed my phone to the side, walking over to my door and tiptoeing down the hallway to my brother's room. I wanted to give her some time to stew. If I let her wait a little longer, she’d be really desperate for me to come and get her, and I could cash in big on that favor.
I pressed my ear against the door and waited until I heard Natan’s peaceful snoring. Peculiar. What is he doing home? Shouldn’t he be with his girlfriend?
I went back to my room and found my phone again. Three new messages were waiting.
/> Please Milo? I'll pay you back for the burgers.
