MIA: I thought so...Good! I’ll delete this thread so she won’t see these messages. (Because she was too chicken shit to ask you, so I figured I’d do it myself.) Thanks!
DEAN: Make sure you delete this.
MIA: TOTES!
***
Later that night, when I arrive home, I see that my mom has placed a large packet from Harvard on the dining room table. She’s draped one of her red and white Harvard T-shirts on a chair and written, “I think this is a good sign!” in a red Sharpie on the back flap of the envelope.
I consider submitting it to the postmaster as proof of her mail tampering, a federal offense.
I wonder how much time she would get...
Annoyed, I rip it open and pull out the letter.
The first word is “Congratulations!” There’s not even a full paragraph between that and the words “our prestigious university,” but I can’t deny that I feel a small sense of pride at their offer of a full academic scholarship with room and board.
If only it was the right school...
I leave the letter in plain view on the table, so she can see that I’ve read it, and then I go up to my room, pulling out the much smaller envelope from Western Peak. I set it on my desk and stare at it, scared to take a look. Small, thin envelopes are never a good sign.
After staring at it for half an hour, I tuck it inside my jeans and decide to open it after Christmas. That way, if it’s bad, it won’t ruin what’s left of my holiday break.
I lay across my bed and pull out my phone, deciding to get the inevitable over with.
MIA: Hey, mom. I saw the letter on the table from Harvard and opened it...I got in!
MOM: Of course, you got in! So happy you’ll be going to the same college I went to! We’ll have to celebrate later. I’ll take you wherever you want for dinner, okay? You can even invite Dean! :-)
MIA: Okay...When will you be back?
MOM: Probably not until nine. Let’s celebrate tomorrow night, okay? That gives me time to call everyone I know and make it a huge event. Is that okay?
It’s more than okay. I was only asking her about what time she’d be back so I could paint in peace.
MIA: More than okay! See you later!
MOM: See you later, future Harvard grad!
Ugh...
I toss my phone onto my bed and open my closet, pulling out a blank canvas. It still depresses me that I have to hide evidence of my passion in my own house.
I go into my bathroom and push aside the cleaning supplies in the closet, taking out the green box where I hide all of my acrylic paint.
I take my time setting them against the window sill in my room, turning on my ceiling fan. I take out a few unfinished traces from my desk and debate which one I’m going to transfer onto the canvas.
Just as I decide to go with the picture of the crowd at the bonfire from my first pep rally, I hear the garage door opening.
Shit! She must have changed her mind...
I toss all of my paint back into the box and place my canvas face down on my bed. I rush downstairs, sitting at the table where the Harvard letter is and put on my best fake smile.
Taking a deep breath, I silently mouth, “I’m definitely excited about following in your foot-steps. So, so excited.” I wait for her to walk through the door, but nothing happens.
Confused, I walk over to the door and open it. It’s Dean.
“What the—” I shake my head. “What are you doing here?”
“I can’t come see you?”
“You can. I’m just confused as to why you would be opening our garage.”
He smiles, stepping back. “I thought that was your doorbell.” He looks at the two panels outside our side door again. Then he presses the actual doorbell. “Is that better?”
“Yes.” I laugh, holding the door open for him. “Come in.”
“Was I interrupting something?”
“No, just a painting session. I haven’t started yet, though. I was setting up.”
“Hmmm.” He stops at the dining room table and picks up my Harvard letter, reading it. “Congratulations. Did you just get this?”
“Yeah, just opened it a few minutes ago.”
“Is this a different type of ‘Harvard’ or something? Why don’t you seem excited?”
“The same reason you’re not excited about ESPN calling you the ‘number one high school quarterback’ in the country.”
“Noted.” He sets the letter down. “I was looking forward to tutoring today, you know.”
“Why? We’re on break, and you have an A. Actually, you have an A-plus, a higher grade than me.”
“She only gave me the extra plus because the team is still undefeated.” He looks around the room. “Where is your canvas and paint?”
“In my room.”