The Best Possible Answer(8)

She did everything she could not to let the other kids hear her cry. She choked it back, let the tears fall onto the desk.

Then she felt a tap on her shoulder and a note slide under her elbow.

It was from Dean, who had just transferred to their school from the suburbs a few weeks before. It was a quickly sketched cartoon with the two of them riding a roller coaster, and above his little figure, it said, “Let’s convert our potential energy into kinetic together.”

She lifted her head, wiped her tears, and smiled at him.

With that one little note and one kind smile, she was all in. She fell for him, and fast.

But her parents hated Dean from the very start. Her dad called him “a useless distraction,” while her mother reminded her constantly that she needed to focus on school.

Of course, she ignored them. She was able to hang out with Dean and even get her physics grade up to a B+. She was experiencing all kinds of firsts: first date, first kiss, first show-me-a-little-of-this, first hold-me-a-little-like-that. They tripped over the words “I love you” at first and then said them again and again. And then they explored and played and learned about each other’s bodies. Dean wanted more, of course. He’d already had sex with his ex-girlfriend, and he said he was “hungry” for her. She wasn’t ready yet, but she was completely okay with doing other stuff—playing and flirting and trying nearly everything but.

So last year, right after Thanksgiving, she took a picture of herself, a very private and personal picture that was supposed to be for his eyes only. She sent it to him via this new app called HushDuo, which was supposed to be this messaging system that was truly secure, unlike Snapchat. It was her idea. And he sent her one, too. She knew what she was doing. She liked what she was doing. He said he liked it, too. He said it was enough.

And she was in complete control.

Until she wasn’t.

When Sammie texted her a photo of Dean making out with some girl at Alex Luna’s New Year’s Eve party, she broke up with Dean that night. She forwarded Dean the photo of his lying face sucking on that girl, along with one simple message: “We’re done.”

Even though she cried for four days, her parents seemed more relieved than anything that “this phase” was over.

But she was broken. She’d loved him. Or at least she thought she had. Certainly, she had trusted him with everything she was, everything she had.

Unfortunately, the lesson wasn’t over quite yet.

Just her luck that Dean rigged his phone so he could save what was supposed to have been erased. Of course, HushDuo wasn’t so secure after all. He didn’t write back to her, but he did forward that very private and very personal photo to a few of his friends. Someone posted it on Instagram, someone else on Facebook, and after that, it spread like wildfire. By the time she returned to school in January, she couldn’t walk down the hall without a whisper or a comment thrown her way. Because of Dean, she developed a reputation, and it was the antithesis of the hardworking, studious nerd that she’d been before. Suddenly, she was known as a “whore” and a “slut” and all kinds of other horrifying names the kids at school threw at her. Even her teachers gave her terrible looks. Instead of picking on her, Mr. Foster couldn’t even look her in the eye.

But the worst part wasn’t even that.

The worst part was when her parents got called into the principal’s office. The worst part was when they saw the photo and read the comments. The worst part was sitting in that stiff leather chair waiting for her father’s reaction. The worst part was his cold, empty stare, the fact that she’d failed him completely, that “this phase” had ruined her completely.

When he left five days later, she broke down. They came home from returning Christmas presents at Water Tower to find his desk empty, his closets mostly cleared out, no explanations, no good-byes. This wasn’t just a weeklong business trip. This was different.

That was the absolute worst.

She learned that her parents were right. She learned that she’d ruined her life, completely. She learned that love is a distraction. She learned not to love, not to trust, and not to—ever again—let anyone else in.





PART TWO

Viviana Rabinovich-Lowe’s College Application Checklist

□ May: AP Exams bombed

□ June–July: Design and Engineering Summer Academy thwarted

□ July: Work on College Apps

□ August: Work on College Apps; Study for SAT

□ September: Finalize Stanford Application





College Admissions Tip #1

Extracurricular and summer activities demonstrate your enthusiasm for the experience of learning. What’s even more important is that you grow from the experience in new and important ways, and that you communicate that growth in your college essays.


The very first day of Bennett Tower Pool’s Memorial Day Weekend Grand Opening is the exact opposite of inertia.

It’s chaos.

Pure and utter chaos.

It’s early Saturday morning, and the gate isn’t even open yet, but the line outside is already packed with screaming kids, frantic mothers, oblivious fathers, and retired old couples desperate to get in. I’ve lived here for five years, but I don’t recognize anyone. Perhaps that’s equally due to my life as a hermit.

Mr. Bautista leads us to our permanent post at the front desk, where we’ll be scanning membership cards, checking IDs, recording visitors’ passes, and selling snacks, and then he promptly checks his phone. “I’ve got a leaky faucet on the twenty-fifth floor. You’ll introduce your friend to everyone, Sammie?”