Valenridge Universitydoes not appear on any of those spreadsheets.
"Why didn't you just give this to Mom?" I ask, sliding my thumb under the envelope's seal. "That is the protocol, right? All correspondence goes through the Eleanora Ashford-Holloway filtration system before reaching the intended recipient."
Dad leans back in his squeaky chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Because if I gave that to your mother, she would rip it to shreds." His voice is matter-of-fact. No anger. No accusation. Just the calm certainty of a man who has been married to Eleanora for twenty-six years and knows exactly which documents survive her screening process and which ones meet the paper shredder in her office. "And based on what I can see through the envelope, it looks like their deadline is tomorrow. So I am fairly confident you would not have received it otherwise."
I pause mid-tear, looking up at him.
"Tomorrow?"
"They must have sent it registered because there was no previous reply." He gestures at the envelope. "Which means they probably sent earlier versions through regular post, and those likely ended up in your mother's shredder alongside whatever else she deemed inappropriate for your consideration."
Wonderful. My mother has been screening my university mail and destroying anything that does not align with her vision for my future.
Why am I not surprised? Why is this not even in the top ten most controlling things she has done this fiscal quarter?
I rip the envelope open with slightly more aggression than the paper requires, pulling out a folded document printed on matching heavy stock. The letterhead is elegant. A university crest in navy and gold featuring what appears to be two wolves flanking a shield that contains both a hockey stick and a figure skate, crossed like swords.
Interesting crest. Aggressive. I approve.
"It is an invitation," I murmur, unfolding the letter fully and scanning the opening paragraph. "Some kind of placement offer."
Dad says nothing. Just watches me with that expression that has graduated from anticipation to something warmer. Hopeful, maybe. Or proud in advance of a reaction I have not had yet.
I start reading aloud, my voice gaining momentum as the words register.
"Dear Miss Sage Elowen Holloway. We are pleased to inform you that your name has been formally submitted for consideration in Valenridge University's inaugural Omega Integration Program, a groundbreaking initiative within our established arts-and-sports academy for Alphas and Omegas."
I pause.
Omega Integration Program.
Inaugural.
Groundbreaking.
Words that either mean real progress or elaborate marketing. I have been burned enough times to know the difference is usually measured in funding and follow-through.
I keep reading.
"Your candidacy has been endorsed through formal recommendation by five professional coaches who have independently submitted evaluations of your athletic abilities, competitive character, and extraordinary potential to our admissions committee."
My voice falters.
Five coaches.
Five separate coaches took the time to write formal recommendations for me. Not just check a box or sign a form, but actually compose evaluations detailed enough to catch the attention of a university admissions committee.
Five coaches who watched me skate, assessed my abilities, told menoto my face because the system would not allow them to sayyes, and then went home and wrote letters sayingshe deserves a chance even though we could not give her one.
My throat tightens.
I push through it.
"Valenridge University provides a comprehensive educational and athletic program designed to develop elite performers across multiple disciplines. Our facilities include professional-grade hockey rinks, figure skating arenas, strength and conditioning centers, and academic resources tailored to the unique needs of Alpha and Omega students."
Professional-grade rinks. Elite performers. Unique needs.
