Charmed Thirds_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [118]
“DID YOU HEAR ME?”
How could I not? “I'm just a little shocked is all.”
Sara's voice took on that very pleased-with-herself tone I know so well. “I thought you would be. Can you believe it? Manda is a total quote carpet muncher unquote. EWWWWWWW.” If Sara is any indication, gay relations have a long way to go in this country.
According to Sara, who is rarely wrong about these types of things, Len finished his finals early, drove down to New Brunswick from Ithaca, and showed up unannounced at Manda's apartment only to find her tangled up in a Sapphic 69. Now that's what I call taking Women's Studies to a whole new level.
“Omigod! I bet Len just wants to die!” Sara said gleefully.
I'll bet he does. At least I didn't walk in on Kieran and Re-girlfriend in a compromising position. (Though even that couldn't have been any worse than the infamous coitus interruptus parentis. Ack. I just threw up in my mouth.) Then again, Manda not only deserted him but his whole gender. Even if she's only taking a college gaycation, there's nothing Len can do now to change himself into the woman she wants. (Well, nothing that doesn't involve a trip to a sexual reassignment clinic in Thailand.) There's got to be some comfort in that.
As interesting as this news was, I didn't quite understand the urgency.
“Sara, why did you call me about this?”
“Omigod! I figured you'd want to be the first to know.”
Of course she would. Sara is like someone who unexpectedly wakes up after a decade in a coma and can't get her mind unstuck from the last clear-eyed moments right before the accident. Petty Pineville High gossip is as much of her present as it is her past. I suppose it's because she feels she's got so little to look forward to. I'm so over it, which isn't surprising because I was over it while I was still in it. While my Columbia years have been anything but perfect, I still believe that one of the greatest advantages of college is that I'm officially allowed to not care about high school anymore.
“Soooooooo?” Sara was looking for something. Congratulation. Recognition. Appreciation.
“Thanks, Sara,” I said.
“Omigod! You're so welcome!”
I was nice to Sara because trashing her was, for me, as much of my petty high school past as gossiping was for her. Only I've grown out of it.
the sixteenth
An excerpt from today's class lecture.
The topic was CHOOSE (WELL) OR LOSE! (Because ACCEPT! would be nothing without exaggeration. Or exclamation points.) Basically, I was supposed to instruct the kiddies to “think beyond the Ivies” and find “exceptional departments in the innumerable esteemed institutions this great nation has to offer.” Because college isn't a “prize in a ruthless status game.” Oh no. It's an “educational journey,” which should start with a student's mission to find a school that isn't necessarily the “best” but is “best for them.”
This would be like Dubya successfully convincing Michael Moore to join his Cabinet. Inconceivable. But they pay me to try.
“So why didn't you apply to Harvard?” asked Will.
“Yeah?” asked Maddie.
“Were you afraid you'd get rejected?” asked Geoff.
The kiddies are convinced that anyone intelligent enough to get into Harvard should go to Harvard. So, with their Harvard aspirations, they all harbor suspicions that they're smarter than I am.
“I wanted to go to school in New York,” I said.
“Aren't you concerned about terrorism?” asked Maddie.
“I was worried about it before I applied,” I said. “But I'm not anymore.”
“Aren't you worried about dying?” asked Geoff.
“Well, I'm worried about dying in general, sure,” I said. “But I'm not worried about dying from a terrorist attack.”
“Even in New York?” asked Will.
“Even in New York,” I said. “It's all about perceived versus actual risk.”
“Huh?” they all asked.
“The things we fear most are often those that are least likely to happen,” I said. “Like, the odds