I GO TO MS. CHIRAZO’S OFFICE FIRST THING ON Monday morning. Well, first thing after hitting up the computer lab. I’ve got a stack of warm white pages in my hand.
“Hey,” I say, closing her door behind me.
She looks up, startled, holding the cord to an electric tea-kettle that plugs into her wall. “Katherine? Is everything okay?” She motions to an empty chair.
I perch my butt on the armrest and drop the papers on her desk. “I did a draft of a new essay. Sorry. I didn’t have a stapler or anything.” I spot one on her filing cabinet and use it.
Ms. Chirazo brightens. “Is this about . . .”
I nod. “But I don’t want to go over it in group.”
It was hard enough to write it alone in my room. The entire time, I was crying and feeling so completely panicked by the idea of anyone, especially Alex, reading it that it made me dry heave.
The thing is, my mom actually got into Oberlin. Only she could never go, because she couldn’t afford the tuition. If I get to go there, it’s like I’m making both of our dreams come true. In some ways it felt cheap to put it in those sappy terms, but it is true. And at the end of the day, I want off this island and into Oberlin with a big fat scholarship, so I’ll jump through whatever hoops Ms. Chirazo tells me to. And I’ve convinced myself that it’s not like I’m selling out my dead mom to get there. She’d want me to do whatever it took.
“It might be a little all over the place,” I say. “And I’m still not sure I’m going to use it. But . . . I’d be interested in what you think before I send it off this week.”
She nods. “Of course. I’ll try to have it read by the end of the day.”
“Don’t rush or whatever. It’s fine.” But I’m pleased. I stand up. “Thanks, Ms. Chirazo.”
