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“What do you need? I’m kind of busy,” I say as I pause the show I’m watching.
“Anne just called and told me Caleb got accepted into Stanford. I was just curious if you’ve heard back from any of the colleges you applied to?”
He did? Why hasn’t he told me yet?
To be honest, I’ve been so distracted lately, I haven’t checked my own submissions. “I haven’t heard back yet.”
Mom cracks the door open and peeks in. “Are you sure?”
I groan, standing to walk over to the laptop on my desk. I sit with a huff and log into my email. It’s flooded with spam, so I do a quick search at the top. Two emails filter through.
I catch my breath, and my fingers go numb. I can’t bring myself to click on them. What if I’m rejected? What if my one hope of getting out of here is lost?
Mom stands next to me. “What do they say?”
“I’m too scared to look,” I say.
“You’re smart and talented. There’s no way they’ll say no.” She puts her hand over mine and forces me to click on the first email. It’s for the college in New York.
I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath.
Mom begins to read, “I’m pleased to inform–” She squeals.
My eyes fly open, rereading the words to make sure I wasn’t hearing things. I cover my gaping mouth. She’s right. I got it in. I’m one step closer to getting away from here. One step closer to being able to breathe.
“Wait, let’s look at the other email,” she says, clicking on the second one.
It’s one of my backups, the college here. I don’t even care though. I’ve already been accepted to my first choice.
The email pops up.
Mom covers her mouth. “You’re accepted.” She quiets down. I can tell which college she wants me to pick. She wants the one closest to her—where I can live at home while going to school.
I shut the laptop and shoot her a timid smile. “I’m going to New York.”
“Don’t you want to think about it? There’s a lot of pros and cons to both.”
I shrug. “I don’t need to do that. I’ve already made up my mind.”
She shakes her apprehension away and smiles back. “My baby’s going to New York.”
I’m going to New York.
It’s what I’ve wanted for months. I should be jumping up and down. I should be bubbling up with joy. I should be happy. But something about this doesn’t feel right. There’s a small voice in the back of my head that’s second guessing my choice.
My phone busses with a message from Caleb, and for some reason, my heart stings at the thought of him. More correctly, the thought of leaving him.
Since when did it matter if we were together or apart? We aren’t really dating, and even calling us friends is a stretch. I don’t know how to label us. Our relationship is messy and nontraditional. It doesn’t fit any one specific mold.
Still, my stomach flips.
How am I going to tell him about New York?
* * *
We’ve been drivingfor a while, and now we’re on the outskirts of the city where buildings are smaller and more run down.
“How much farther is it?” I ask, looking down at the headphones on my lap. He told me to bring them.
