And now, today, time was failing me again. I wasn't sure I could stand to sit here two more minutes, much less wait a full four hours to see Manning. Knowing he was coming was the best kind of torture. I packed up my Jansport and stared at the clock.
Vickie tapped the eraser of her pencil against her desk. "Don't most schools have a Sadie Hawkins dance for Valentine's? Why aren't we?"
Mr. Caws looked up. "Girls. Don't make me tell you again."
Vickie opened her spiral-bound notepad and scribbled with the concentration of a doctor performing surgery. She tore the page out fast, the only way to do it in a quiet classroom, but Mr. Caws still looked up. Vickie put her hands in her lap, expertly folding the note into squares until Mr. Caws returned to grading papers. She passed it to me.
I bet Corbin sends you flowers for V-day. I need a Valentine so I'm not a total loser. Maybe we can go-
I balled up the note. What was she even talking about? Her note, this classroom, this desk, the Battle of Saratoga, seemed so unimportant. Vickie looked horrified. The bell rang, and I bolted up from my chair.
"What's your deal?" Vickie asked. "You'd think it was Corbin coming over for dinner, not some criminal."
"You don't understand," I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "You just don't. You're completely dense."
In the hallway, Vickie tucked her binder under her arm. "You're right, I don't. But I do understand I'm not driving you home. Find your own ride," she said, walking off.
"No, Vickie, wait." The hallway filled with students. I held my history book to my chest and did my best to push through. "I'm sorry," I said as I caught up, matching her long strides. "I didn't mean to-"
I nearly ran headlong into Val coming out of Physics. "Hey," she said.
I grabbed Vickie's elbow at the last second, and she whirled around. "Seriously, Lake. You've been such a bitch lately."
"Whoa," Val said. "Totally uncalled for."
Stopped in the middle of the hall, our classmates were forced to scatter around us. "You're right, I have," I said. "I've been under so much pressure."
"So have I," Vickie said. "You think just because you're going to a top college that nobody else's life matters."
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
She took her arm back. "You haven't even asked how this has been for the rest of us."
"That's not true. You want to go UNLV and major in communications. What else is there to know?"
"Um, I don't know. Maybe that I'm not going to get in. That I've also applied to ten other schools as backups."
"Ten?" I shouted, causing people to look over at us.
"Yes, ten. That's totally normal, Lake. You're the only one who applied to one."
That was because I could only go to one. I wasn't going to jinx myself by even considering other schools. I looked at Val, surprised that I hadn't ever asked her how many schools she'd applied to. "What about you?"
She twisted her lips. "Five or six," she said. "I lost count."
"Which ones?" I asked them.
As we headed out to the parking lot, they listed off fifteen schools they'd applied to between the two of them. The thing was, while I'd been sick over applications, they actually sounded excited. They had options. Their futures were wide open. As of now, neither of them had any idea which city they'd be moving to at the end of summer. There was nothing mysterious about my plan. None of this process had made me giddy. It'd felt about the same as having an elephant sit on my chest, getting heavier and heavier the longer I didn't hear anything.
While they argued over the differences between University of San Diego, San Diego State University, and University of California San Diego, I thought back to the similar conversations I'd had with Corbin about NYU. All this time, I'd thought he'd just wanted me to be where he was. I hadn't seriously considered picking up and moving to a completely different place.
"Lake?" Val asked, lowering her sunglasses to squint at me.
"What?"
"We asked where else you would apply."
"Where else?" Could I see myself as anything other than a Trojan? USC football or basketball or baseball had been playing on TV since I could remember. We had flags we hung outside the house during big games. My dad hated that Tiffany hadn't gone there, and I suspected he even resented my mom for not attending USC, which made no sense because they hadn't met until after she'd graduated college. My chest constricted at just the thought of asking about other schools.