Charmed Thirds_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [17]
“Bang-a-langin'” is, apparently, her new and third-favorite phrase, one she probably picked up at Harrington. If you have to ask what her first- and second-favorite phrases are, you haven't been paying any attention at all.
When all the important issues had been covered and I was floating about a foot off the ground because of the mass exodus of brain cells from my cerebellum, Sara asked The New Question. If you recall, The Old Question, asked by teachers, friends' parents, and grocery store check-out clerks alike was, “What school do you want to go to?” The New Question is, of course, “How's school?”
Last winter break, when I inevitably collided with former classmates, I got used to answering the The New Question with a smile and an upbeat, “It's awesome.” And the inquisitor would beam and say, “Cool!” and move on, having no clue that I'd used a word that I always use when I never mean it.
I was inspired by Marcus, who would answer The New Question with a note of genuine intellectual and spiritual enlightenment. (“Gakkai students and faculty are unified by our commitment to becoming global citizens.”) I admired Bridget, who replied with lackluster candor. (“UCLA is okay, but I miss Percy.”) I could relate to Len's somewhat disaffected pragmatism. (“Cornell is stressful. But. Um. Good for my career.”) I was unmoved by Manda's claim of academic rigor. (“There's no way Columbia is that much harder than Rutgers. Puh-leeze!”) I was unsurprised by the simple truths from Scotty. (“We party so hard at Lehigh!”) And Sara. (“Omigod! We party so hard at Harrington!”) Finally, I outright envied Hope, who could answer The New Question with unbridled enthusiasm. (“I love RISD! It's changed my whole concept of creativity! Plus, there're a lot of really hot artsy guys.”)
But for me, the truth has always been far more complicated than the boundaries of small talk permit, even when the listener is actually interested in hearing what I have to say, unlike Sara, who is only interested in her own adenoidal drone. If I had the time, and the right audience, I might explain that Columbia would be awesome if I were the type of person who could embrace awesomeness. But I'm not. I'm certainly happier than I was at Pineville, but it's hardly perfect. I've learned not to complain, though, because it's obviously selfish and ridiculous to complain about attending one of the best educational institutions in the world.
However, less obvious is how selfish and ridiculous it is to complain about one of the worst educational institutions in, if not the world, then New Jersey. Aka Pineville High School.
I found this out the hard way.
Early in the year, when everyone on my floor was still in the getting-to-know-you phase, a few of us had gathered in the lounge to play Who Hated High School the Most? Tanu hated high school because she was the only Indian girl in school. That's Southeast Asian Indian, not Native American Indian, which is why her nickname, “Tonto,” was doubly cruel. William, one of the members of F-Unit, hated high school in Texas because he was the only pasty-faced punk in a school full of preppy cowboys. Jane hated high school because she got drunk at the wrong party as a freshman and was rumored to have fucked half the football team. It was a false accusation—she had blown one of them—yet she still spent the next three years hearing “Ride the Jane Train!”
So when it was my turn I said, “High school was torture after my best