Coincidence - Alan May [3]
She didn’t even need to read about the ship (the “magnificent” Inspiration) or the academic program (which might include an African safari or “engaging in political discussions with a Saudi Arabian Prince”) to know she wanted to go. It would be just what it said in the brochure: a “Passport to Education.”
Two days later, the application materials arrived. Melissa filled out the forms using her very best penmanship. She practiced writing the answers on scratch paper before deciding on which one to use. Craig and Carol, dumbfounded by the speed at which their daughter’s whim was becoming reality, proofed her final edition. Melissa hand-delivered the package, along with a deposit, to the FedEx office, sending it priority mail for arrival the next day.
Then there were the reference forms. Who could she possibly ask to vouch for her? She needed two adults who knew her well and who could be counted on to write glowingly of her accomplishments and character. Well, the first was a no-brainer: Uncle Jack. He was an honorary uncle only, being no relation at all. He was her father’s oldest friend. Nor, for that matter, was Jack his name, but he greatly preferred it to the one his parents had saddled him with: Bertram.
Jack and Craig had been steadfast friends all through school and university. Jack had introduced Craig to Carol and had served as best man at their wedding. He had been a regular fixture about the Jordan house for as long as Melissa could remember. He spent every Christmas with the family, bringing Melissa and her brother, Eric, exotic presents from his travels abroad, always wrapped in maddening layers of paper and tape. And every summer he joined them for a week—two if he could manage it—sailing. Who better to tell the Blue Water Academy administrators about her capabilities with a boat?
The second reference should be from a teacher, she decided. But which one? She got along fine with teachers as a rule, but which one knew her enough to say relevant things about her qualifications for sailing around the world with Blue Water Academy? And, come to that, which of the subjects she was studying at school was relevant? She had no idea.
After a lengthy debate with herself, she chose Mrs. Taylor, her drama teacher. She, as director of the three school productions Melissa had performed in, knew best how she maintained her cool under stress, in spite of long rehearsals and opening-night nerves. Surely that indicated her fitness for the BWA program.
Now all she had to do was ask. She took the same approach with both of them, in person to Mrs. Taylor and in an email to Uncle Jack: “I want to do this so much! Of course I wouldn’t ask you to say anything that isn’t true—but please try to make me sound good!”
With all of the forms taken care of, there was nothing to do but wait and see. This was the hard part. Waiting and seeing was not Melissa’s strong point. It was all she could do to keep her mind on her upcoming midterms. Everything paled in comparison with the adventure that lay ahead. Or that she hoped lay ahead.
A week and a half later, just as she and her family were sitting down to dinner, the phone rang.
“It’s Montréal,” Eric said, glancing at the Caller ID screen.
Melissa froze, a forkful of spaghetti, her favorite, on its way to her mouth. She sat, staring, until her father picked up the receiver and handed it to her.
“Melissa? Hello, it’s Kathleen Tutty from Blue Water Academy,” a young woman’s voice said. “I’m going to be in Toronto next week holding interviews with students interested in our program. I was wondering if we could schedule a time for you and your parents to come.”
Melissa responded calmly but was grinning like a Cheshire cat and nodding