“Just about to.”
He nods. “He’ll be psyched.” Jared squeezes me again and I’m overcome with adoration for my baby brother. Whatever happens with the Players, with Graham, this moment is ours.
I rush up the stairs and pull my phone out with shaking hands. I punch in Adam’s number and wait for it to ring. I try to remember everything I want to say. I want to hear all about the bad improv shows we’ll see together, the only place in Providence worth getting bagels, the chunky parka I’ll needto wear to battle the New England cold. I want to know what dorm I should live in. Do I need a car?
He picks up on the fourth ring, but I can barely hear him. A thumping Eurodance song plays in the background, drowning out my thoughts.
“Hello?” he yells. “Jill?”
“I got in,” I say, breathless. “I got in.” Even saying the words out loud feels false, like I’m dreaming.
“What?” he screams. “I can’t hear you! Text me!”
The line goes dead. He must be at some party, one that I’d be at, too, this time next year.
I text him with trembling fingers
I GOT INTO BROWN! SEE YOU NEXT YEAR!!!!!!
He responds in an instant.AAAHHHH!!!!!!!
I set my phone down and breathe deeply, inhaling and then letting it all go. Suddenly, everything around me feels so unfamiliar, like things from someone else’s past. I can see the future so clearly, I want to fast forward through the next few months and forget about Rachel and Graham and whose blood really stained his shirt after all.
But then I hear whispers behind the closet door down the hall, where Mom keeps random things like wrapping paper and extra rolls of tinfoil.
I turn my doorknob slowly, and pull it back just an inch to make out the words.
“We’re going to figure it out,” Mom says in a hushed, nervous tone.
“I just can’t make the numbers work,” Dad says, exasperated and depleted. “We won’t know if she gets money until the spring. Otherwise, she’s going to have to take out loans. She’ll get saddled with debt for decades. We can’t let that happen.”
“I mean, we can pay forsomeof it,” Mom whispers. “And she’s still up for one of those full-ride scholarships. When has she ever let us down?”
“I know, I know. But... what if she doesn’t get it?” He sounds guilty for even suggesting it.
“There’s always State,” Mom says. “Honors.”
“But this is her dream.”
“She’ll get that spot. I know she will.” Mom’s voice wavers and Dad sighs heavily.
“We’ll make it work,” he says. “We always do.”
I hear the muffled sounds of a hug and silently close my door. My heart thumps a million miles an hour and I clench my fists, fighting back tears and unbearable lashes of guilt. A heavy weight settles on my chest.I have to be good enough, I think.I have to win that money. I have to.
THIRTEEN
“WELCOME TO ROAD RALLY,bitches!” Nikki stands on the hood of her BMW and shakes bottles of sparkling wine in each hand. Like a pro, she pops them both and sprays them in front of her, dousing the freshman Players who stand cheering at her feet. It’s a week after acceptances were announced and every single senior Player got into their top choice school. Even Robert, whose dad’s donation seemed to have done the trick. He exploded our group text thread with expletives for hours before taking off with Nikki in an Uber to the city, where they went to some insanely expensive steakhouse under the Williamsburg Bridge. After fam dinner, I sat in Henry’s hot tub with him, Quentin, and Marla until our skin became wrinkled like prunes. The stars were particularly bright that night and I tried my hardest to push my parents’ conversation out of my head. No luck, though. I couldn’t—still can’t—forget their desperate tone, the need for me to achieve, achieve, achieve.
Now we’re standing in Nikki’s winding driveway, ready for the final Player event of the semester: an all-night scavenger hunt we call Road Rally. Here’s to hoping it’s a distraction.
In the crowd, the younger kids whisper among themselves,comparing notes for what’s to come. Jared’s packed in the center of their little crew, a core member of this unit we assembled like Legos. After months of tests and trials, they may think they know what’s in store, but tonight is next level. Road Rally always is.
When Jared asked me about it earlier this week, after Nikki spread the word that it was happening, I tried to manage a smile. “It’s fun,” I said. “Just go with the flow.”
“Worse than the Show?” he asked with a smirk. I tried to study his face, to figure out how that night made him feel. If a secret shame burrowed deep inside, or if he brushed the whole thing off like a bug. I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
“It’s fine,” I said instead. But the annual scavenger hunt always makes me uneasy. In the past, this night was a beast that chewed you up and spit you out at the feet of whoever was in charge. The only thing worse was initiation.
