break,” she said. “So I won’t be there tomorrow.”
She’d already told him. Several times.
“You’re just calling to rub it in, aren’t you? Since I’ll be stuck in the Cleve.”
“Won’t most of your friends be back from college? That should be fun, actually.”
Wyatt sighed dramatically. “Define ‘fun, actually.’”
“I feel like that doesn’t need a definition.” Her niece was racing through the house in a pink tutu and fairy wings. She was petite and feminine, a mirror image of CJ’s oldest sister. She stopped in front of CJ and did a cartwheel. CJ gave her a big thumbs-up.
“Yes, it will be fun to see them,” he said. “It will also be fraught.”
“Fraught?”
“Complicated.”
“I know what it means. I actually have a pretty good vocabulary. Don’t let my mediocre SAT score fool you.”
“Clarke,” he said in a bright way. “You made a joke about your own inadequacies. This feels like progress for you.”
“Thanks.” She watched her niece do pirouette after pirouette. “But don’t change the subject. Why is it fraught?”
Wyatt sighed again. This time it wasn’t dramatic. It was real. “Most of my high school friends are from cross-country and track. A lot of them are running at college. It’s hard to hear about it.” There was a long pause. Her niece spun around faster and faster. “I miss running,” he said. “God, do I miss it.”
“I’m sorry.” She thought about her own running shoes packed carefully in her suitcase. She was going to run the Thanksgiving Turkey Trot with her dad. It was one of her favorite traditions.
“Thanks. It’ll be good to see them, though. We’re going to celebrate my birthday.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“Not until next Saturday.” CJ made a mental note. “But since everyone is in town, we’re going to rage. And by rage, I mean they’re going to come over and my dad will make his famous baked ziti.”
“That’s adorable,” said CJ.
“I know you’re making fun, but it actually is. It’s my grandma’s recipe. It’s one of my favorite foods ever. And speaking of favorite foods ever. Top three Thanksgiving side dishes. Go.”
CJ’s niece spun herself into dizziness and collapsed in her lap. CJ smoothed her hair back and kissed her head. “Stuffing. Green bean casserole. And corn bread. You?”
“Pumpkin pie. Pecan pie. And any third variety of pie.”
“A pie isn’t a side dish. It’s a dessert.”
“It’s a dessert and a side dish.”
They stayed up until midnight debating it.
The next day, he called her. “My friends are out doing a big trail run together. Distract me. What are you doing?”
CJ was on the floor with her laptop in front of the fireplace. “I’m trying to write about a time I’ve had a transformational experience.”
“That sounds horrific. Why?”
She told him about the Stanford application essay topic and read it for him. “‘Describe a transformational experience and how it has shaped you into the person you are today.’”
“That’s a terrible topic, Clarke.” Wyatt breezed on to the next thing without elaborating. “Now, tell me why you want to go to Stanford. I’ve never asked.”
The logs in the fireplace shifted and a cascade of sparks fluttered and settled. “You’ll laugh.”
“I would never laugh.”
CJ grabbed the fireplace poker and jabbed at the logs. “I want to go to Stanford because I want to make the world a better place.” She stopped poking. “Are you laughing?”
“Not at all. But I do have a sub-question. Why does making the world a better place require a Stanford diploma?”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t. It just gives me some validity, you know what I mean?”
“No. I don’t know.”
“It was a rhetorical question.”
“I don’t think it was.”
“I want people to take me seriously, Wyatt.”
The confession was vulnerable. His response was forceful. “Then make them.”
CJ stopped poking at the logs. What he’d said hit her hard. So hard that she had the sudden urge to make a joke. “Oh, and also the weather. I’m sick of Cleveland winters. Stanford is sunny.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “That I can support.”
“Why did you want to go to Ohio State?” she asked.
“I had a track scholarship.”
“Wow,” CJ said.
“Yeah. It was pretty ‘wow.’ I was excited.”
CJ watched as the fire dimmed. “When do you think you’ll go back to school?”
He didn’t say anything for so long that she looked at her phone to make sure she hadn’t lost him. “You still there?” she asked.
“I’m still here.” There was another stretch of silence. “I don’t know. It’s going to be so… different. I had this vision of college… I don’t know what it’ll be like now.”
She thought about what he’d