I take a seat at the large mahogany desk in the center of the office as Dean Lewis sits across from me. She closes her navy blue laptop and gives me her undivided attention.
“So,” she says warmly. “What can I do for you, Ms.…”
“Rhodes,” I say, trying to infuse my voice with a confidence that doesn’t exist. “And I would very much like my space.”
She tilts her head. “I’m sorry?”
“I was admitted here. I have an acceptance letter. And I want to go. I can start tomorrow. I just need a uniform.”
Dean Lewis squints at me from across her desk, obviously trying to make sense of me. “What’s your first name?” she finally asks.
“Kennedy, like the president.”
She reopens her laptop and begins typing. After a second, she frowns at the screen. “Yes. My records show that you were accepted three years ago but you never responded to the letter.”
“I know. I’m sorry about that. I, um…” I search for a good excuse. “I did actually respond, but my letter got lost in the mail.”
She doesn’t believe me for a second.
“The point is,” I go on, “I made a mistake. A huge one. Probably the biggest mistake of my life.”
Dean Lewis opens her mouth to speak but I don’t let her get a word out. “You don’t understand. I’m supposed to go here. I know it. I chose the wrong life. And now I need to fix it. I have to fix it. That’s why I’m here. If I can just enroll, if I can just be a Windsor Academy student, I know everything will be better.”
Dean Lewis clasps her hands together on her desk and gives me a pitying look. I know what she’s about to say before she even says it.
“I’m sorry”—she glances at her screen—“Ms. Rhodes. But we filled that slot three years ago.”
“Please,” I try again, my voice breaking. “There has to be another spot. You have to make room. I’ll do anything. I’ll sit on the floor of the classrooms. I won’t cause any trouble. Please.”
She grimaces. “I’m afraid we can’t just make room. The Windsor Academy class size is one hundred students. And we have one hundred students enrolled in each grade.”
My shoulders slouch in defeat and I feel the tears well up in my eyes again. I blink furiously, trying to shoo them away, but they’re relentless, and soon everything in this office—Dean Lewis included—is under water.
She makes a sympathetic clucking sound. “Oh. Sweetie. I really am sorry. I wish—”
“You wish there was something you could do,” I interrupt. “I know.” With a shudder and a sniffle, I stand up, turn around, and walk out the door. But not before adding, “Me too.”
When I leave the office, the boy with the dirty uniform gives me a salute. I keep walking. I shuffle down the hallway, past the receptionist—who has returned from her coffee break—and out the front doors. I stand atop the grand brick staircase and look out over the grounds of the school.
This beautiful, magnificent school. From my vantage point, I can see the ultramodern Bellum Hall where the science classes are taught and the Sanderson-Ruiz Library, built in the regal Georgian architecture style. The Fineman Arts Center where all studio art and dance classes are held, and the student union where everyone studies and eats lunch. I can even see all the way to Waldorf Pond, with its glittering geyser fountain in the center.
I can’t believe I gave this up.
And for what? I have absolutely nothing to show for it now. I’ve lost everything I care about in the past twenty-four hours.
My boyfriend.
My best friend.
My shot at Columbia.
My future.
I take one last look at the campus and start down the stairs. Back to my crummy life in my crummy school. But before I reach the bottom, I hear a soothing melodic chime that pulls me to a stop.
Is that the bell?
The doors behind me burst open and a horde of uniformed students come flooding out of Royce Hall and down the steps. They’re all talking and laughing and making jokes.
See, I think with a flash of annoyance. They’re not zombies.
They look so happy.
And for just a flicker of a moment, I feel happy, too. I can almost imagine myself as one of them. Rushing to my next class, prattling eagerly about something inspiring a teacher said today. I feel like I’m part of something. A community of people who care about their education and their future.
Then I glance down at my outfit and remember who I really am.
I’m an outsider. I don’t belong here. I’m not part of this club.
I let out a defeated sigh and continue down the stairs. But a second later, something catches my eye. A girl with pale skin and bright auburn hair coming up the steps. She adjusts her schoolbag as she chats animatedly with another student.
My whole body freezes.
I can’t believe it. It’s really her.
CoyCoy55 in the flesh!
And she’s coming right toward me!
I hold my breath, feeling a wave of dizziness pass through me as she gets closer. As she passes right by me. As her navy blue blazer brushes against my arm.
In fact, I’m so distracted watching her disappear into the building that I don’t even notice the guy barreling toward me from the top of the stairs. He shoves up against me, trying to get past and my foot slips. I grasp the handrail to keep from toppling over, but it only seems to throw me further off balance. My left foot skids against the edge of the step and then my entire leg shoots out from under me. I lose my grip on the handrail and feel myself falling backward. I grapple for something to hold on to, but my hands only paddle the air. I hear a gasp from someone nearby as I bump down multiple brick steps, my butt bouncing painfully against each one. Humiliation trickles over me. I can’t believe I’m falling down the grand staircase of the Windsor Academy! In front of everyone!
This is exactly the kind of thing that gets turned into an animated GIF and ends up on a Buzzfeed list.
Just when I think my impromptu butt slide is finally coming to an end, the last step hits me hard, flinging my upper body back. I feel something in that exact moment. Like a gust of air. A comforting warm breeze. Except it’s not blowing over me. It feels like it’s blowing through me. Then I hear a loud thump as my head smacks into brick, and everything around me fades to black.