I Was Told It Would Get Easier(16)
Yes, I thought, Alice is going to totally embrace that idea.
Alice ignored her mother completely, showing more restraint than I would have given her credit for, and said, “My name is Alice, and an interesting fact about me is that I hold a patent.”
We were all silent.
“A patent for what?” asked Will.
Alice smiled. “I can’t tell you, it’s still in development.”
“Well, that’s going to look good on your application, isn’t it?” said Cassidy brightly. “Last week one of our tour members had started an international charity, but a patent is even better!” She nodded. “Who hasn’t started a charity, right?”
Great, now I hate Alice even more. But then I caught Emily’s eye and realized we both wanted to giggle. The whole idea of Alice holding a patent was ridiculous, the whole idea of doing it to look good on an application was even worse, and the particular agony of this whole breakfast suddenly threatened to overwhelm us both.
But we’re tough. We bit our lips and kept it together until we got back to the room.
I’m proud of us.
5
EMILY
As I sat there listening to the admissions woman at Georgetown give a speech that encouraged us to be fearless and bold, but also underscored the need for quality applications and good grades, I wondered how we’re supposed to be everything at once. How can you be a studious visionary who understands the secret language of employability but still be ready to cut ties with the ruling class and change the world while being a fearless artist and successful athlete? They do realize we’re only sixteen years old, right? Mind you, Alice holds a patent, so I’m the slacker. I pulled out my pad and zoned out, glad I picked a chair at the edge of the room. Mom looked over, so I pretended to be taking notes, when actually I was doodling the admissions woman.
I was near the window, which was a strategic call, and I could see dozens of students hanging out, laughing and flirting and reading actual books and looking like they’re legit enjoying themselves. I remember looking at high schoolers and feeling they had it together, only to get there myself and discover they totally didn’t. When does that stop? (Asking for a friend.) My mom was listening with total concentration, of course, to the admissions director. She was probably making a mental list of the pros and cons of every college we visit, and she’ll present me with her findings and that will be that. She’s pretending to care about my opinion—in fact, she’s asking me what I think about forty times a day, even though the only answer I can ever give her is “I don’t know”—but actually she’ll tell me what I should do and be 100 percent certain of it. It’ll be high school all over again. I wanted to do Shop, and Technical Drawing, but she said I had to do AP US History and freaking Bio, which I HATE, because it was better for college. My friend Leah did Shop and they freaking welded. Just saying.
JESSICA
I hoped this wouldn’t go on much longer because I really needed to pee. I looked over at Emily and thank god she was paying attention. She was even taking notes. My phone buzzed with a new text. It was Frances. I hate it when people are on their phones when someone else is talking, it’s so rude, but I was going to break my own rules because I’m an adult. Sorry, and also not sorry.
Frances texted, “How’s it going?”
“Fine.”
“Huh . . . that good?”
“You’ll never guess who’s here.”
“Angelina Jolie.”
“Her kids are too young for college.”
“Maddox is already in college.”
“How do you know these things?”
“I waste a lot of time online, ignoring my children.”
“Fine, but no, not her. Daniella and Alice.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
A pause, then: “How’s Emily? Doesn’t she hate Alice?”
I frowned, and looked at Emily, who was now gazing out the window and hopefully imagining herself crossing the very lovely quad. “Unclear. She seems blasé.”
“She always seems blasé. That’s her superpower.”
Suddenly, Emily poked me and I realized everyone was getting up. I typed a quick ttyl and stood.
“It’s the walking part,” said Emily, looking like she’d rather be doing the sleeping part. I pulled on the coat everyone told me was overkill when I bought it; I’m not too proud to say living in LA has made me soft. I offered to buy Emily one, along with gloves and a scarf, but she said she’d rather die than dress like the Stay Puft man, so let’s hope the tour is mostly inside.
EMILY
Oh my god we’ve been walking around campus for twenty minutes and I am going to freeze to death. I can’t even text for help; my fingers are useless little icicles.
JESSICA
As the other parents and I were touring the campus, the guide kept stressing how employable the graduates of his college were. I was suddenly overcome with anxiety that I was going to quit my job and be totally unable to find a new one. John won’t even notice I’m gone; he’ll just hire a few of these spry, youthful graduates and call it a day. We happened to be passing the cafeteria, and I saw—across the crowded room—one of those muffins with the streusel topping, and before I knew it I had ditched the tour and was peeling off the paper wrapper. I am a very bad person.