Second Helpings_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [30]
“So . . .” Sara said in a pinched tone that tried too hard to sound nice. “What did you do all summer?”
This was good news. The fact that Sara had deigned to make an inquiry about my life meant that she had zero gossip on me. If she’d had the slightest trace of secondhand info, she wouldn’t have bothered asking at all. I decided to respond with the most snoring of possible answers, one that would end the interrogation right then and there.
“I spent all summer in a classroom taking a college-level creative writing seminar.”
Stupefied silence. Mission accomplished.
“Omigod! Have you heard about the new hottie who’s gonna be in our class?” asked Sara.
As always, Sara was good for a teensy bit of information, which makes her annoyance factor all the more annoying because you can’t ignore her completely.
“No. Who is he?”
Manda shot Sara a quick, disconcerting side-glance.
“Dunno,” said Sara.
Like hell she doesn’t. I swear Google goes to Sara for information. Manda was just pissed that Sara had mentioned the mystery hottie in front of me. If Manda hadn’t been standing right there, I’m sure Sara would’ve spilled the gory story I’d already heard from Bridget about how Manda and Burke’s on-again, off-again sex fest had finally come to an end. Burke had dumped Manda two weeks ago, the day before he left for college, because he couldn’t “be tied down by a high-school girl.” Yet that hasn’t stopped him from trying to woo back Bridget via a series of corny, incredibly incriminating e-mails ever since.
The point is, Manda is currently boyfriendless and on the rebound. She is out for hot-blooded American male companionship, but she’ll settle for frozen plasma if the search takes too long. This situation is extremely fortuitous for the new honors hottie, whom I will take the liberty of assuming will enjoy making the beast with two backs with a girl he barely knows. You know, like any other male between the ages of twelve and death.
Seeing the Clueless Two for the first time since June reminded me of everything I hate about school. It’s amazing. Two minutes with them is all it took to suck whatever waning optimism I had right out of me. Why do I feel that sweet taste of Columbia will only make the toxic cocktail that will be my senior year harder to swallow?
Hence, my decision to apply for early decision.
I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. By applying for early decision, I get all my worries out of the way. My application is out there and I’m done with it. Once accepted, I am contractually obligated to go there, and nowhere else. Surely my parents would rather send me to Columbia than suffer the humiliation of having a daughter living at home and working on the boardwalk while the rest of their friends’ children are attending their freshman year of college. Whoo-hoo! It’s genius.
Now that I’ve made this decision, there’s no point in putting it off. There’s no penalty against getting it in too quickly. The sooner I get it in, the sooner I have one less source of stress.
September 1st
Dear Hope,
This year, I’m going in prepared. If I stay focused on these objectives, my final year of Pineville imprisonment might prove to be slightly less painful.
Six Goals for My Senior Year That I Hope Will Make It Suck a Teensy Bit Less, Though I Wouldn’t Wager an Eyelash on It
1. I will not be a college-unbound senior. I will send out my application to Columbia ASAP and not get caught up in the mass hysteria of the selection process. I will sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. Or full ride, as the case may be.
2. I will try not to be such a buzzkill. If I succeed, I will write happy journal entries. When I get psyched