by Sarah Watson
And that’s when her bedroom door flew open.
“Happy birthday!” her friends shouted at once. There was a loud pop pop pop as confetti sprayed across her room. She watched as Ava, CJ, and Martha jumped into her bed, expecting to find her asleep. She laughed when CJ said, “I don’t think she’s in here.”
“Over here,” Jordan said, waving from the window seat.
Someone flipped on the lights. Jordan had forgotten she’d been crying until she saw the looks on their faces.
“What’s wrong?” Martha asked.
Jordan shrugged. “Long story. Are those cupcakes?”
Ava held up the pastry box in her hand. “Yes, they are. From Confectionary Cupboard. I bought enough to make us sick.”
“Perfect,” said Jordan.
Ava put the box down on the floor, and all the girls, one of whom was now technically a woman, sat for a midnight picnic of cupcakes and Diet Coke.
“Okay,” Martha said, turning to Jordan. “This is fun. But there are tears. On your face. Explain, please.”
Jordan sighed. “You were right. Scott’s an asshole.” But that wasn’t exactly fair. She sighed again. “No. He’s not, actually. I’m the asshole.”
She told them about the date, and to Martha’s credit, she didn’t judge. She nodded along and even said she was sorry when Jordan told her how much it hurt.
“I don’t even think I liked him that much, to be honest,” Jordan said. “I just liked the idea of him, you know? It was like I got to be an adult for a minute.”
Ava spoke with a mouthful of frosting. “I have great news. You get to be an adult for a lot of minutes now.”
Jordan took another cupcake. This was her third one and she had no intention of stopping. “I just feel like such a jerk.”
“You’re not a jerk.” Martha said it with such conviction that Jordan actually believed her.
“But speaking of jerks,” said CJ, “I have some news too.”
Three jaws hit the floor when she told them that just two hours earlier, she’d kissed Logan Diffenderfer. “Wow,” Jordan said. “Um… wow.” She expected to feel jealous, but as she took mental inventory, she realized that she didn’t. She wondered if she was just in shock.
Jordan noticed that Ava was staring at her cupcake pretty intently. “Do you like him?” she asked CJ. “Because if you like him…” The sentence dangled out there, begging CJ to finish it.
“I don’t. Not like that. It was a moment of temporary insanity brought on by stress. And even if I did, I could never date someone who…” She turned to Ava, letting her own sentence dangle.
“I don’t hate him anymore,” Ava said. “So if you like him… And if he likes you…” Jordan watched Ava closely. Something seemed off.
“Whatever,” said CJ. “I don’t want to talk about boys anymore. I want to talk about our newest woman.” She held up her Diet Coke can to make a toast.
Jordan motioned for her to lower it. “Hang on,” she said. “There’s one more thing I have to tell you. It’s about the park.”
She broke the news quickly. She told them that the fight was over. They’d lost. The city was going to build a new park. A different park. One that would never be theirs. “We’re not going to get to leave our names behind.”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Martha said.
“Yeah,” Ava added. “It’s just a dumb tradition. We probably should have outgrown it by now anyway.”
CJ turned to Jordan. “You’re the only adult here. So I’ll take your word for it, does carving our names into a jungle gym still seem like a big deal?”
Jordan thought about it. “No,” she said honestly. “Ava’s right. It doesn’t seem like something that adults should care about. But this does.” Jordan took a swipe of frosting and smooshed it into CJ’s face.
CJ laughed as she grabbed for a cupcake. A frosting war broke out and didn’t end until all four of them were covered and CJ was laughing so hard that Diet Coke came out of her nose. As they sat there, wiping frosting off their faces, Jordan completely forgot that just a few hours earlier she’d been in such a hurry to grow up.
“Open your present,” CJ said.
Jordan tore the edges of wrapping paper carefully. Whatever was inside, it seemed delicate. When she saw what it was, a wave of bittersweet emotion swept over her.
“This is perfect,” she said. “This is absolutely perfect.”
It was a voter registration form.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Cleveland, Ohio
Three Months Later
THE SNOW melted early that year, and spring came before anyone was ready for it. It was always a season of change, but this year, CJ felt it more than any other. When the daffodils poked through the thawing soil, she wanted to push their little faces back under and hold them there. Just give us a little more time, she wanted to say. Please. Just a little while longer.
The city officially announced the new park and released a design sketch of what it would look like when it was done. It was going to be beautiful even if it would never be their park. CJ decided that maybe that was okay. The Americans with Disabilities Act hadn’t even been written when the old park was built. The new one was subject to a whole different set of guidelines. She remembered her conversation at the mini-golf course with Wyatt, though. Only 50 percent of the holes had to be accessible. She looked up the park guidelines and saw that they weren’t good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough. The familiar refrain echoed in CJ’s mind. It wasn’t good enough. But what could CJ do about it? She was just an average girl. The word made her think of Wyatt, and she smiled. She decided that she had to try. She might fail. She’d probably fail. But what if she didn’t? She opened the city website and started writing down information.
A week later, it was CJ’s last day at Sensational Recreational. The program closed in spring since the city used the rec center for an adult indoor-soccer league. She’d already talked to Dakota’s mom about trying adaptive horseback riding during the interim. Dakota was excited, and a few of the boys were going to give it a shot too. She understood why Wyatt didn’t want anything to do with it, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be valuable for the kids.
She found Wyatt at center court and walked up to him. She was holding an envelope in her hands.
“Is that a ‘last day’ present?” he asked.
“Not exactly. You know how the city is opening a new park?”
He nodded. “I heard something about it.”
“It’ll obviously follow the new ADA guidelines. But…”
Wyatt nodded. “It’s still not going to be a hundred percent accessible.”
“Not even close,” CJ said. “But the thing is, it could be. There’s better equipment out there. It exists.”
Wyatt raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t even ask me how many hours I’ve spent researching it. I’ve barely slept this week.” She didn’t feel tired, though. If anything, she felt more alive than she ever had before. “The problem is money,” CJ said. “Adaptive equipment isn’t cheap.” She’d attended a city meeting where the subject was discussed. She’d listened carefully and waited patiently but was ultimately disappointed when they decided that they couldn’t make it work with their budget. “But,” CJ said, “if they had the money, they’d do it.”
“Is this where you tell me you won the lottery and want to spend your winnings on a park instead of hard drugs and fast cars?”
“I’m too young to play the lottery. And I think you know I’d choose the fast cars over getting suitable playground equipment for children with disabilities.”
He smiled. “Then what’s in the envelope?”
“I found a charity organization that raises money to augment city funds. It’s a long shot. They only have the funds for one park this year. We have to apply and they have to pick us. But why not try? I did all the application paperwork. They said on the website that personal letters really help. Dakota’s mom is writing one
, and I’m going to talk to some of the other parents too. But I was thinking, as the director of this program, your words would mean a lot.” She handed him the envelope. “All the information is in here.”
“Clarke.”
It felt so good to hear her name on his lips.
“Of course I’ll write a letter.”
“And I want you to know that I’m not doing this out of guilt. I’m doing it because this is what the kids deserve. And, okay, I’m also doing it because I like to win and I really want to beat all those other parks. But mostly I’m doing it for the kids.”
“Then let’s kick the crap out of those other parks,” he said.
She nodded. “Thanks.”
She hoped he knew that she was thanking him for a hell of a lot more than just the letter.
April 3, 2020. It was a day that would live in infamy. It started off like any other day, but for every college-bound senior at William McKinley, it would not end that way. Because at exactly seven PM, Eastern Standard Time, the majority of universities across the country would release their acceptance and rejection information through an online log-in system. There were still a couple of schools who liked to do things the old-fashioned way with an e-mail that would arrive at some vague point that day. Boston University was one of those schools. Ava, CJ, and Jordan had all applied there. Ava still clung to the small hope that maybe they would stay together next year. Martha had ended up applying to only two schools, and one of them, MIT, was in Boston too.
School was tense that day. Most students were too antsy to do much learning, and the majority of teachers didn’t even try to rein them in. It was the one day of the year when everyone was allowed to keep their phones in their hands. During first period art, Mrs. Simon introduced the class to the style of Jackson Pollock and encouraged everyone to get out their aggression by flinging paint wildly at their canvases. Ava didn’t know if it was the new antidepressant that Dr. Clifford had prescribed for her or if it was the action of hurling paint, but she felt remarkably at peace with whatever news she would get later. Next to her, Logan heaved a giant glob of deep-blue paint at his canvas. “It’s my goal to splatter this thing in the school colors of every place that might reject me. That’s Duke blue.” He dipped his brush into a blob of cardinal red and flung it violently.
“Stanford red?” she asked.
He nodded.
It had occurred to Ava that she and Logan might potentially end up on the same campus next year. It had also occurred to her that she didn’t totally hate that idea. She admitted to Dr. Clifford that she had possibly the teeniest, tiniest hint of a crush. Not that it mattered. CJ still claimed that kissing Logan was a mistake, but Ava didn’t want to get in the way if that wasn’t true. She watched him fling another giant glob of cardinal red.
By lunchtime, there was still no news from Boston University. Things got so tense that the girls, who had never been regular truants, decided to skip fifth period. If they were going to sit around and be freaked out, they may as well do it outside in the gorgeous spring sunshine.
They sat on the lawn of the athletic field and tried to keep one another distracted between glances at their phones. CJ just kept hitting refresh over and over and over. It was hard to watch.
“Maybe we should go to Denny’s,” Ava said. “Blow off the rest of the day and eat our feelings.”
“I’m down,” said Jordan.
“In,” said Martha.
“Sure,” said CJ. She hit refresh again as she stood up. “Oh my God!” she screamed, when a new e-mail popped up.
Jordan and Ava were already grabbing for their phones. Jordan hit refresh on hers first and saw the same e-mail that CJ was reacting to. “Oh,” Jordan said. “God, CJ. You scared me.”
“What?” Ava asked. “Is it BU?” She stealthily hit refresh on her own e-mail.
“No.” Jordan looked up from her phone. “The yearbook committee sent e-mails to all the winners of the Senior Superlatives.”
“God,” Martha said. “Those things are so stupid.” But Ava saw Martha reach for her phone and check.
“I’m Best Dressed, bitches,” Jordan said victoriously.
Ava smiled when she read hers. “I got Most Likely to Be the Next Picasso.” She turned to CJ. “What did you get?”
CJ tossed her phone aside. “What does it even matter? These things are so stupid.”
Next to her, Martha agreed. “You’re right. Totally stupid.”
“Why?” Jordan asked Martha. “What did you get?”
Martha put her phone away. “Nothing. I mean I got nothing.”
“Don’t feel bad,” Jordan said. “We have a big class. Not everyone gets something.”
CJ sighed. “You’re lucky you didn’t get anything. This is so embarrassing.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Ava said. “What did you get?”
“I’m not telling. It’s mortifying.” CJ flipped her phone over.
“Okay,” Jordan said. “You don’t have to tell us.” Then she quickly grabbed CJ’s arms and pinned them to her sides. “Ava! Grab her phone!”
CJ was much stronger than Jordan and quickly freed her hands, but Ava already had the phone. “Got it!” CJ lunged for Ava and she took off running. “Martha, go long!”
Martha put her hands out and Ava tossed her the phone. It was a terrible throw, but Martha managed to make a dive for it. Right as CJ caught up to her, she turned and tossed the phone to Jordan. A game of monkey in the middle commenced.
“Come on, guys,” CJ said. “You know I’m like way more athletic than you, right?” But after running back and forth a few times, she threw up her hands. “Oh, whatever. Just read it.”
Jordan was the one who had the phone in her hand when CJ gave up. She opened the e-mail at the top of CJ’s in-box and read it out loud in her most dignified yearbook committee voice. “‘Dear Clarke, We regret to inform you that the admissions committee at Boston University is unable to offer you…’” Jordan immediately stopped reading. “Oh shit. Wrong e-mail. Shit, CJ. Shit, shit, shit. Here.” She handed CJ her phone back. “I’m sorry.”
CJ took her phone and read the rest of the e-mail from Boston University. “Oh,” she said flatly. “Well, shit.”
Jordan glanced at Ava and Martha helplessly. Then she looked at CJ. “I’m so sorry.”
“No. It’s fine. I’m okay. It wasn’t my top choice anyway. Don’t worry about it. I know you and Ava are dying to check yours. So go ahead.”
Jordan and Ava traded a look.
“You guys,” CJ said. “Please. I know you must be dying right now. Check your phones.”
They each demurely reached for their phones. They kept their reactions small and contained, but it’s not like CJ couldn’t read the looks on their faces. “Congratulations,” she said.
“Thanks,” Ava said sheepishly.
“Yeah, thanks,” said Jordan.
The bell rang and CJ stood.
“Screw BU,” said Ava. “Come on. Let’s go to Denny’s. A moment like this calls for Moons Over My Hammies all around.”
CJ shook her head. “I don’t feel like it. I’m going home.” She started to walk away but turned back. “Oh, and my yearbook thing, I got Tallest. So that’s how I will be remembered by the class of 2020. As the tallest.” CJ turned and walked away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE TICKET booth seemed smaller than usual that evening. Martha was sitting on the tiny stool in the tiny box of that room when she logged into MIT’s admissions portal. It didn’t seem right to be in such a small space when she was getting such big news, but she had to know. She read the letter once, then put her phone away. She felt like crying.
She drummed her fingers against the counter and didn’t notice when Logan Diffenderfer walked up to the window. “One, please,” he said.
Martha took his money and slid him a ticket. He laughed when he saw the title that was printed on it.
“What?” Martha asked.
“I d
idn’t even check to see what movie you were showing.” He held up his ticket. “The Graduate. How apropos.”
“I’ve never seen it before,” Martha said.
“Is the theater busy tonight?”
“Are we ever busy?”
Logan smiled. “Then you need to join me.”
Martha locked up the ticket booth and met him in the lobby. They picked two seats in the back and settled in as the opening credits rolled. Dustin Hoffman appeared on-screen, and then there was a long moment of silence.
“I love this opening sequence so much,” Logan said. “Right away you get the point. This is a guy who has no idea what he’s doing with his life.”
“I can relate.” She thought about MIT and felt like crying again. The silence on the movie screen was unsettling and Martha fidgeted. Just when it seemed like the silence was going on for too long, a song that Martha had always loved started playing. Hello darkness, my old friend. “You’re right,” she said. “This is very apropos.”
“Did you hear back from the schools you applied to?” Logan asked.
“I only applied to two. Cleveland State and MIT.”
He read the heavy inflection in her voice and asked her if it was bad news.
She shook her head. “I got into both.”
“Congratulations.”
She shrugged. “I got a full ride at Cleveland State,” she said. “I should just go there. It makes the most sense. MIT didn’t offer me any scholarship money.”
“But…?” he asked, still looking at her.