Charmed Thirds_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [141]
Ah, the beauty of being eighteen.
I have the option to walk in June, but I'll probably skip it. I can't afford the cap and gown anyway. To make up for the lack of ceremony, my friends splurged on a champagne brunch send-off. It was quite touching, actually. A very mixed crowd was in attendance, one that reflected the randomness of my three and a half years at Columbia University. Dexy shocked the hell out of me by showing up in full Catholic schoolgirl regalia, perhaps as a nod to the end of my education (or more likely because it made her look really hot). Tanu, Kazuko, and even ALF were there, representing The Winter of Our Discontents. Pepe and Bridget were there, representing my Pineville roots. Paul and Hy were there, representing people I didn't know cared. Bethany and Marin came, representing blood love. Even Mac came, representing what I hope is my promising future.
I egotistically insisted that no one could be depressed about my departure. We joked about how I'm unemployed a full six months ahead of my classmates. Maybe I'll contact one of Mac's editor friends and beg him for a lower-than-entry-level job that will make my turn at True seem like the literary high life. Maybe I'll throw financial caution to the wind and apply to journalism school, or I'll miraculously develop a sense of empathy for my fellow man and get a PhD in Psychology. Perhaps I'll be more practical and enroll in a correspondence school for gun repair. Whatever I decide to do, Mac assures me that I made the right decision in devoting myself to the study of the mind, instead of the almighty dollar. After all, college life is so short—even shorter for me—and professional life is sooooo long.
“‘This is not the end, not even the beginning of the end,'” Mac said, raising his glass. “‘But perhaps it is the end of the beginning.'”
I leapt out of my chair. “Churchill!” I bellowed, blowing everyone's hair back. “Winston Churchill! I did it! I got one! I rock!”
I high-fived everyone at the table and they all indulged me by cracking up.
It seemed fitting that this was the first time I'd actually known the original source of one of Mac's quotations, because it was exactly what I needed to hear. Sure, my future is uncertain. But isn't it always? So I figured, Why worry about it right now, when I've got champagne fizzing in my glass and friends at my side?
We spent the morning happily. Hy promised Bridget a private screening of Bubblegum Bimbos to prove that she had done a great service in not casting the ex-actress formerly known as Bridge Milhouse in the meta-role of Gidget Popovich because the movie really, really blew. ALF and Pepe shoulder-thumped over the latest barely-of-age starlet's homemade sex video. Kazuko admired Dexy's outfit—very Goth Loli—and Dexy reciprocated with her admiration of Kazuko's cameo brooch—was it vintage or a convincing copy? Tanu asked Bethany if she would be willing to be interviewed for her thesis, titled, “The ‘Yummy' Effect: How the ‘Hip' Urban Parent Paradigm Defines the Character of a Community.” Paul leaned in, almost forehead to forehead with Mac, and grumbled about the Religious Right's latest efforts to “out” SpongeBob SquarePants. And Marin counted from one to ten en español as taught to her by her part-time nanny—otherwise known as yours truly—for everyone and no one at once.
And I—Jessica Darling!—was the silent heart giving life to these connections.
My optimism didn't fade until I got on the bus to Pineville. After so much social activity, I craved solitude, and on this bus I was never going to be alone. My duffel smacked the shoulders of row after row of aisle-sitters and I had trouble finding two side-by-side empty seats. I planned to sprawl across the first unoccupied spot and feign a narcoleptic sleep attack so no one would sit next to me. But it looked like I wasn't going to find the solitude I sought, so I searched for a passenger so absorbed in a book that any chitchat would be a nuisance. I thought I'd found her in the form of an after-school-with-milk-and-cookies