After I sent in the application, I didn’t have the energy to do any other ones until I knew about Grandin. Ms. Williams warned me that I would need to be fast at sending out more applications if Grandin turned me down because some of the regular deadlines were right after Christmas.
Whatever.
“Ms. Davis, it’s too early in the year for senior slide,” one of my teachers said.
“You going to stop acting like you’re on the rag all the time once you get into your fancy school?” said Kendra.
“Baby, I can take your mind off things,” said Aviante, who was always hanging around me this year. But that just reminded me of Chaz and Kim. I rolled my eyes at him.
Then I got the letter right before winter break. I ripped it open fast to get it over with, but part of me already knew because it was a fat envelope.
I must not have been expecting to get in because I just stared at the letter.
Congratulations! We are pleased to welcome you and offer you a Harmon Holt scholarship, which covers full tuition and living expenses …
At the bottom of the letter was a handwritten note.
Thanks again for your help, Destiny. I hope you enjoy your time at Grandin as much as I did. You’ll be a fine representative of the Holt legacy at my old school.
No signature.
TWENTY-EIGHT
You’d think I’d be happy. Relieved. Excited. Able to relax now.
Instead, I was pissed. And then I decided.
Mr. Holt,
When I got the internship at Polichat, it seemed like a good opportunity. An opportunity for money and a path away from my mom’s life.
I don’t want to be like my mom because she’s been used. I thought that wouldn’t happen to me if I was careful and smart, like my auntie.
But I feel like I’ve been used by you. Since you seem to know everything about me, you must have known I wasn’t really interested in journalism or politics. You must have known I’d never written another article for the school newspaper. You just wanted me at Polichat to do your dirty work.
And now I don’t just feel used, I feel dirty. I got paid for work I didn’t do, and now I got accepted to Grandin, your school, on a scholarship, your scholarship. Did I get in because anyone read my essay or liked my grades or scores? Or did I just get in because you said so?
I don’t like not knowing what I’ve earned. I don’t like owing people. And I don’t want to be anyone’s legacy. So here’s the deal. Nobody’s ever asked me where I want to go to college, so I’ll just tell you. I’d like to go to UCLA. I’m mailing the application today. I’m sure you can use your influence to see that UCLA wants me just as badly as Grandin does. And if you think I’m asking a lot for some kid from Clinton High, please ask Bosley if he remembers what he said when he told me my internship was over. If he doesn’t, I’ll be happy to send you the recording to refresh his memory.
—Destiny Davis
Whatever happened, my destiny was my own.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Elizabeth Karre is a writer and editor living in St. Paul, MN.
The Campaign Page 5