about it all?”
“Um . . . sure. I can meet you there in a couple of hours.”
Silence on the other end of the line. “I was hoping I could pick you up in, like, a minute and a half.”
“I’m on my way to the animal shelter to save a cat.” It came out like I was heading to the grocery store to buy toilet paper.
“What do you mean?”
“I got a call from work. They need my help.”
“Well, I need your help.” Meg’s voice sounded echoey, louder, a little girl with her hand cupped over the phone receiver so nobody else could hear.
“You got it. Just tell me where to meet you.”
“In two hours?”
“Maybe less. I have to pick up the cat, bring her to Ashland, and get her settled.”
“Laurel, I don’t want to be alone right now.”
I thought about saying Yes, of course, Meg. I thought about calling Robert and telling him I had to come later. But the road was pulling the car so swiftly and purposefully toward the shelter, tugging me to an animal that would be dead if I wasn’t on my way. It didn’t seem possible that I could slow down and turn around, even if I wanted to.
“Why don’t you come meet me at the hospital?” I asked.
There was a pause, and Meg sucked in her breath, and I could almost hear the anger and hurt she was vacuuming into her chest.
“Silly me, I forgot that it always has to be about you.”
It was like a dart thrown right at my face. Quick and direct, with unexpected velocity. My defenses weren’t fast enough.
“It’s not about me,” I said. “It’s about saving an animal that’s going to be killed! Could you really live with yourself if you knew this cat got put to sleep because you didn’t want to go to the mall alone?”
Silence, worse than the anger-air-suck. More silence, worse than the dart.
“Laurel, there are a lot of things I can say right now about the last six months, but I think you know them all.” She paused, and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to respond, but I didn’t think so, because the next thing she said was:
“I’ll see you around.”
And the line went dead.
Chapter Thirty-one
Early Action: Get your admission decision
The words on the Yale website sounded so ho-hum about it, without an exclamation point or even a period to punctuate what it meant to those of us who’d been waiting to see them appear. Everyone else who’d applied early somewhere was counting the days, marking them as little sticks on their notebooks or with big Xs in their locker calendars. I refused to keep track but still found myself checking the Yale admissions page online every day.
All I had to do was follow that link, and log in, and there would be an answer on the other side. It felt so strange to have that guarantee.
I got up, walked around the room, sat down again. Checked the weather.
Arrrrgh, just do it!
So I did, wondering if they’d be standing behind me, watching. Mom and Dad, maybe Toby, too. No, I’d make them stand outside with the door closed.
“Ha!” I said out loud to nobody.
I’d gotten in.
I thought of how my dad’s face might have looked at the news. He was good at the knowing smile; I think he would have done that. And he got misty so easily, never afraid to leave the tears there and not wipe them away.
What about Mom? She’d be surprised, first. Genuinely surprised, and that would piss me off a little. And then she’d look relieved and laugh, and I’d just laugh back to forget the pissed-off part.
They’re with you right now, I told myself. They’re here.
When Nana came to find me ten minutes later, I was still crying.
“I remember when your dad got his letter,” said Nana over our celebration half-plain, half-veggie pizza at Vinny’s. “He wasn’t sure he wanted to go, but he heard the girls were particularly pretty there.” She paused, the corners of her eyes glistening. “He would be so proud, you know.”
I nodded and looked down, then decided, to hell with it. No time like the present.
“Nana, I’m not sure I should go.”
She put down her slice of pizza, taking a moment to arrange it neatly in the center of the plate, and frowned at me. “Why wouldn’t you go?”
“I mean, maybe I’m not ready to live away from home. Instead I could go to Columbia or NYU, which are both great schools,