The Accidentals(6)

Every incoming student receives four letters from a “peer liaison,” and so they passed me your name. My email address is [email protected] but you’ll be assigned a normal one with your name, like [email protected]. It’s pretty easy to make aliases on the server if you’re a geek like me and that kind of thing makes you giddy.

So, yeah. Fun times at boarding school! Do I know how to party, or what? :) When I sat down to write this letter, I wondered if I could pass myself off as a cool guy. Four paragraphs in and I’m pasting that L on my forehead already.

Anyhow.

All they told me about you is: your name, your home address, your former school and your class year. Orlando Florida, huh? Is it weird to live near Disney World? Do you still like going there, or by now would you rather have it firebombed? I’ve been there a couple of times with my family, like every other kid in America. And I was that kid who threw up after a ride on the tea cups.

True story. In my defense, it was really humid because we went in August to save money. I’m blaming the heat, and the sugary lemonade. My family is never letting me live it down, either. Ten years later I’m still hearing: “Remember the time Jake threw up at Disney World?”

So if you’re from Florida, you’re going to need to buy some winter clothes. And boots. Don’t forget those. It’s not all just fluffy snow and rainbows. New Hampshire weather brings plenty of slush and ice. And spring takes forever to arrive. March and April are all about muddy paths and bare trees and the last couple of snow piles that refuse to melt.

I’m really selling it now, right? Claiborne Prep: Land of Bleh Weather and Unnaturally Long Twin Beds. For fifty grand a year, all this can be yours. Join us.

Please feel free to ask me any questions about what to bring or how to sign up for classes. Pro tip: they’re not kidding about those extra-long sheets. Regular twin size will pop off the corners all the time. So it’s worth ordering them from a catalog. And if you pick a weird color or pattern, you’ll never get confused if someone takes your stuff out of a dryer in the laundry room. Mine have snowmen on them. (Thanks mom.)

Feel free to email me at any point.

Jake Willis





Reading Jake’s letter is like stepping out of my own reality for a few minutes. I actually laugh out loud when I get to the part about puking on the teacups.

The fact that I’m headed to Claiborne Prep in the fall seems completely surreal.

It was sophomore year when I started begging my mother to send me there. Gazing at their website, I’d fallen in love with the bell tower and the ivy-covered bricks on their website. It looked like something out of a movie. I wanted to kick through piles of real autumn leaves (we don’t have those in Florida) and rub elbows with the kind of serious students I imagine go to boarding school.

My mother was unmoved. “We can’t afford that,” she said the first ten times I mentioned it. “It’s a snooty place.”

“But what if I win a scholarship?” I’d pressed. That’s how my mom had afforded her year there. Or what if you asked my father for the money? Even if I didn’t voice this request aloud, it always hung there in the air between us.

We had this argument a million times. Both of us pretended that money was the big obstacle. There was a lot more to it, though. When she was my age, my mother also did a year at Claiborne Prep. She grew up in Claiborne, New Hampshire.

And that’s where she got pregnant with me.

My mom never said much about her time in Claiborne. And she certainly never spoke of my father. But I knew she hated the idea of her baby girl going so far away. She also didn’t want my teenage years to end the way hers did. With too much freedom and then a baby.

I didn’t give up, though. I kept working on her. A year at prep school would look good on my college applications, and Mom cared a lot about those.

Finally, she’d said yes. One day she’d left a check on my desk for the application fee, made out to Claiborne Prep. Without asking why she’d changed her mind, I’d sat down and begun my online application.

A week after my application was complete, Mom told me her cancer was back.

Now my fingers hover over the keyboard as I imagine what an honest reply to this friendly note would sound like. Hi Jake. Right after I applied to your school, my life became a dumpster fire. My mother never wanted me to go to Claiborne, and I think she relented only because she thought she was dying.

You just can’t put that in an email to a stranger.

Dear Jake,

Thank you for your letter. It’s hard to imagine myself there next winter, walking between snow banks. I haven’t seen snow since I was three. As for Disney World, I still like the place. Tourist traffic can be a real bummer, but there are perks. My friend Haze and I are good at sneaking into hotels to use the swimming pool. We keep a stash of abandoned key cards to flash when we need to look like we belong.

And you’re not the only one who ever puked on the teacups. My intel suggests it happens all the time.

My questions about Claiborne number in the millions. My entire experience with boarding school is reading Harry Potter books. What if the sorting hat puts me in Slytherin? Are the elves friendly? Is potions class as hard as it looks?

Seriously though—is it crazy that I’m showing up only for senior year? Maybe it was a dumb decision for someone who’s kind of an introvert. Will I have a roommate? That’s a little terrifying.