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• Classic-Fiction

“Have a seat,” Blue’s interviewer said, gesturing to a chair in front of her desk. “Your reading and writing test scores were off the charts. Way beyond college levels. What else makes you different from other students?”

“Like, anything?”

“Yes, anything. Doesn’t matter what it is.”

Blue was quiet. How could he encapsulate in a pithy admissions-interview line all of his unique ideas and interests?

After a silence, she said, “It can be anything.”

“I know, but that’s such a hard question. I don’t want to make myself sound . . . conceited, you know?” He laughed self-consciously.

“I know,” she said, “but you still have twenty minutes left. Take your time.”

Hoping to diffuse the awkwardness of his silence, Blue started to answer. “I guess I tend to look at things a lot differently than other people. I can always look at both sides . . . the big picture, and draw my own conclusions. I’m very . . .”—he stumbled—“global.”

“That’s great!” she prompted. “Anything else?”

“This is still such a hard question.”

“No, that was great. We can move on if you want.”

“Okay,” Blue said, though he didn’t want to move on. There was so much more that he wanted to tell her about himself.

“How have your last two years in school been?” She looked at his report card. “You have a lot of absences. And you’re not doing so well in some classes.” From where he sat, Blue could see the Fs in English and French. “But then in classes like autos and AP Gov, you’re great. Why’s that?”

“Well, for a while my priorities were a little off. But I’ve gotten a lot better. I’ve arranged conferences with my counselors and teachers and we’ve been working on it.”

Several questions later, she asked, “So how is life at home, Mark? Do you live with any siblings?”

“No, it’s just me and my mom. My brother lives in France now.”

“Do you get along with your mom?” she asked.

Blue’s voice weakened. “Well . . . not really.”

“Really,” she said, looking concerned. “What’s that like?”

“Well, my mom and me have conflicting opinions on what I should do with my life. Our goals don’t match up. She doesn’t think I can go to college, so she wants me in the military.”

“I see.”

“But I usually don’t listen to her. It’s not that I don’t like the military, don’t get me wrong, I just feel that I won’t . . .” He paused. “I don’t think I’ll reach any sort of potential. I won’t be able to make something that lasts beyond my own lifetime. And if that doesn’t happen, I’ll never be happy with myself.”

“That’s admirable,” she said. “So on a scale of one to ten, how badly do you want this?”

“Ten,” Blue answered instantaneously.

She wrote something down. “What would you do if this doesn’t work out?”

“Probably go to [the local community college] and transfer here or . . .”

“Let’s change gears for a second,” she said. “How would you be a positive influence on other UAP students? If you aren’t going to classes in high school, how can I trust you’ll go to classes in college? Because I have that problem with my group right now.”

“I guess you could say I’ve grown up a bit. Last year, I had over thirty-eight unexcused absences in one quarter, but somehow I passed,” he said. “I was engrossed in doing things that really mattered to me, namely gaming. But this quarter, I’ve been going to my classes, even if they aren’t necessarily interesting. I’ve got perfect attendance so far.”

She glanced down at her papers. “Right, I see. But how could you get the kids I have now to go to class?”

“Well,” Blue said, “I think they haven’t found what they really want to do yet.”

“Exactly! But they still have to go to these boring classes. Not all of your classes are going to be interesting, so how do I know you’ll actually go?”

“The only thing I can say is that I’ve grown up.”

“Okay. By the way, what’s the hardest class you’ve ever taken?”

Blue didn’t hesitate. “AP U.S.”

“And the easiest?”

“AP Gov.” That class inspired him by challenging him.

She looked surprised. “Interesting.” She chewed her pen.