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Thayer and I don’t fit into the ‘rich and famous’ mold — ‘broke and barely getting by’ is more our style — but last year RCA initiated a scholarship program funded by the most powerful backing families of the school. The program would offer two scholarships in its inaugural year, one for academic acumen and the other for sports performance, the goal being that once the scholarship had been proven successful, they’d increase the number of recipients.
With the campus based in Switzerland and having a decidedly European student body, the grant was limited to Americans only, which had helped our odds.
It was a warm May day when we first heard about the scholarship. Thayer and I had been chilling at my house, a paused episode of a Netflix true crime docuseries before us as we debated who we thought the killer would turn out to be.
“I think the brother did it. He’s got twitchy eyes.”
“If twitchy eyes are indicators of a murderer, then we should switch out of chem next year. Mr. Friedman perpetually has one eye at half mast. I keep thinking he’s winking at me when I run into him in the hallway.”
“Yeah, but I think that’s because he’s in the lab huffing chemicals all day.”
I pondered her point as her brother Nolan bounded into the room, a pamphlet in his hand.
“Have you guys seen this?” He asked, slapping it onto the coffee table.
“No, what is it?” I picked up the pamphlet, the words Royal Crown Academy standing out on the front page above an image of a sprawling campus.
“They were handing them out at LP. Apparently some fancy school in Switzerland has a couple scholarship spots open and they’re looking for students to apply.”
‘LP’ referred to our high school, Lakeshore Public. A neighborhood school with a student population of over three thousand kids, LP had metal detectors, yellow, run down walls, and what I can only describe as prison-style bathrooms.
It wasn’t abnormal to have to try a few different stalls before finding one that locked.
Or had a door at all.
I tossed the pamphlet at Thayer who caught it with her left hand, quickly perusing the cover before unfolding it.
“Why are you asking us?” I asked Nolan. “We’re incoming seniors, we only have one year left. Scholarships are usually for freshmen.”
“The lady who handed it to me — who had a very cool accent by the way, that’s why I stopped originally,” I rolled my eyes at Nolan. He’s a typical 17 year old boy and he’ll flirt with anything with a pulse. “Anyway, all the classes are in English and apparently basically everyone in Switzerland speaks it too which is helpful because it’s an international school. She said culture shock would be minimal and that anyone can apply. And that actually since the program is new, they’re particularly open to sophomores and juniors, students that would only spend a couple years there max.”
“B, did you see this? In the list of accommodations it says there are suites. We could room together! Get a taste of our college life.” She kept flipping the pages. “Jeez, this also lists three olympic sized pools, a sauna/hammam, jacuzzis, tennis courts and a football field. Whatisthis place?”
“Somewhere we don’t belong.” Was my clipped answer.
She lifted her head to look at me. “Says who?”
“Our tax bracket.” I said dryly.
She tutted at me. “That’s one way to look at it.Orwe can see this as an opportunity to get a bunch of rich folks to fund an amazing year abroad.”
That thinking is exactly why I love and admire Thayer. In our friendship and in life, Thayer is the bold one. The brave one. She has big dreams and even bigger aspirations for herself, and she fuels herself with ‘what’s possible?’ thinking.
While my ambitions match hers, mine are rooted in realism. They need to be. I can’t afford to let myself get off course and distracted from my goals. The goals I set for myself are reasonable and reachable, not far reaching dreams like moving to Switzerland.
I’ll graduate as valedictorian of my class and I’ll go to UIC. I’ll study accounting, graduate with honors and get a job that pays well enough to allow me to buy a small house for my mom.
That’s my dream.
Anything else is unrealistic for a girl from the rough side of Chicago.
The reality is that in this world, your connections get you ahead. Sure, your skill and tenacity can help move you ahead incrementally, but it’s your connections that propel you forward and into opportunities.
And we have none.
We’re going to have to fight tooth and nail just to scrape our way out of poverty and into the lower middle class.
Our fun afternoons include a cold Miller Lite and an episode ofDeadly Suspects,not sipping an espresso on a terrace in Switzerland.
