They Wish They Were Us(17)
Diane comes over and pours long, dark streams of coffee into our mugs, then disappears again. Adam takes a sip and nods. “Sure,” he says before pivoting. “How’s Henry?” Adam cocks an eyebrow and I instantly blush.
“The same,” I say. “He’s gonna apply early to Wharton. His dad is making him. He really wanted to go to Northwestern for journalism, but . . . you know.” The decision had been plaguing Henry all summer but after an epic showdown with his dad over Labor Day, Henry told me he decided. Wharton it is. Business school or bust. He could always parlay it into business of media or something. Run a network, he said half-heartedly. Save the industry, maybe. But I could tell he was devastated by the idea of sitting in a cubicle in some skyscraper instead of reporting live from South America or sub-Saharan Africa.
Adam shakes his head. “That kid needs to learn how to make a decision for himself. Just because his last name is Barnes, doesn’t mean he needs to become hedge fund royalty or whatever. I mean, look at me. My dad was obsessed with the idea of me being a neurosurgeon like him, but I said fuck that. I’d be miserable as a doctor. You know that. I bet he’ll regret it.”
Adam’s right. But agreeing with him feels like a betrayal to Henry. I try to stay neutral.
“You still applying early to Brown?” He raises an eyebrow.
I nod. “Sent in the app last week.”
“Phew,” Adam says, and lets out a sigh of relief. “Gonna need you up there with me senior year.”
I bite my lip to hide a smile.
Ever since Adam got into Brown, all I could think about was applying there, too. At first, I wanted to be there because he was there. I pictured us away from Gold Coast, with the rest of our lives stretched out before us in parallel lines. Brown would be just the beginning. We would sit together in the corners of dark parties wearing fishermen’s sweaters and downing cups of shitty jungle juice, our foreheads almost touching as we got lost in conversation. We would walk through the grassy quad, leaves crunching underfoot, as we made our way to a tailgate.
But when I actually started doing research, I found that there was so much more there that I wanted. Last year, when I told our guidance counselor, Dr. Boardman, that I was thinking about Brown and that I wanted to study physics and astronomy, her face lit up in delight.
“Oh, darling, this will be fun.” She stood from behind her oak desk and reached up to the highest shelf in the office, pulling down a slim pale yellow pamphlet. “They have a Women in Science and Engineering program. It’s just perfect for you,” she said, her dark brown eyes wide and bright. “They offer full rides to the top two students. First you get in, of course, but then you take a test in the spring to determine the money.”
I flushed, embarrassed that she knew I was a scholarship kid, though of course she did. It was her job to know.
“You have a shot,” she said. “A good one.” She thumbed through my transcript and then leaned in close to her laptop, scrolling through my resume. “Science Bowl captain for two years. Math Olympiad Scholar all four years.” She kept scrolling. “Ah, look, you’ve even tutored middle school students in physics! Do you ever sleep?” Dr. Boardman joked and threw her head back with a chuckle, her graying bun bouncing up and down.
Butterflies hummed inside my stomach. This was what I had hoped for, for all those late nights racking up extracurricular activities, all that risk to get to the top, to be worth it. To make me, as Dr. Boardman liked to say, “marketable” to the admissions boards.
Dr. Boardman slid the shiny brochure over to me, and on the front, I saw beautiful young women laughing and sitting together on benches and in classrooms, textbooks splayed open in front of them.
Brown invests in our female scientists and technologists, said one caption. Join twenty-five incoming freshmen on the journey of a lifetime. The words sat under a photo of a group of women staring up at the aurora borealis on what looked like a class trip to Norway. I brought the pamphlet close to my face and peered at the girls. This could be me.
Everything solidified when I visited Adam last year. Mom and I had driven up early one Friday morning so I could sit in on an Intro to Astronomy class with Mallika, a tall, dark-skinned, impossibly confident sophomore from Wisconsin who adored the Women in Science and Engineering program.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” she squealed when we met in front of the lab. “Showing prospectives around is my all-time favorite thing. I’m basically the ambassador to the program. Plus, I hear you’re super into astronomy, too, so it’s perfect. I just did a summer at NASA.” Mallika raced ahead and threw open the doors to a small auditorium where students were already beginning to gather for class. We grabbed a pair of seats just as the lights dimmed, signaling the professor was about to begin.
“She just got back from doing research at the Keck Observatory in Hawaii!” Mallika whispered in my ear.
As the hour raced by, my heart swelled. I wanted so badly to be there, to be among these brainy kids, learning and growing and becoming a fuller me, one who knew everything there was to know about the stars, the sky, and the magic up above. I wanted to be friends with people like Mallika, who were obsessed with what I was obsessed with.
After the class ended, I followed Mallika into the hallway as she smiled and joked with just about everyone who passed. “Keep in touch!” she said, squeezing my arm.