Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,84
felt self-conscious around her. You could tell she didn’t believe that depression was a real thing. For a while, it made Ava not believe it either.
“She thought she was helping me out,” Logan said. “She said that if my parents raised a fuss to the principal, they’d have to keep me too. But my parents wouldn’t do it for me. They said that it was my fault and that I deserved the consequences. They were right. The school kicked me out for the rest of the semester. I worked my ass off, and I proved to them that they should let me back in.”
Ava didn’t remember him not being in class. That period of her life was such a blur.
“I had no idea,” Ava said.
Logan came back to the couch and sat down next to her. “I wish I’d known. I wish you’d told me. I always thought you were such a—”
“Bitch?” she asked.
“Just to me. I couldn’t figure out what I’d done. I’m sorry, Ava. I was an idiot and I’m sorry that I hurt you.”
“I accept your apology.”
“Friends?” he asked.
She nodded. He put his hand out and she shook it.
“Friends,” she said. Their hands lingered for a moment before they both pulled away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE NEXT three weeks that led up to college application deadlines were some of the tensest that CJ could remember. Excluding, of course, the beginning days of Ava’s depression, Martha’s parents’ divorce, and the time when Jordan’s foot got stuck in the mall escalator, which doesn’t sound like that big of a deal but was actually really scary. CJ tried to remind herself that getting into college wasn’t life or death. So far it wasn’t working very well.
On the day that her Stanford application was due, the girls ate lunch together in the cafeteria like they did every day. Jordan was casually scrolling through Instagram when she sat up suddenly. “Senior Superlative ballots are out.” She held up her phone to show them the e-mail from the yearbook committee. CJ couldn’t believe the timing. As if she wasn’t already stressed enough thinking about her future, now she had to worry about her legacy as well. She grabbed Jordan’s phone and looked down the list, trying to find something that sounded like her. Best Hair, Best Eyes, Best Singer, Best Dressed, Best Body. She crossed her arms in front of her stomach. She wasn’t any of those things. She kept scanning. Most Likely to End Up on Broadway, Most Likely to Be on a Reality Show, Most Likely to Work on Wall Street. She wanted her classmates to remember her as someone special. Her eyes finally fell on the perfect category. Most Likely to Be President. That was the one. She wondered aloud if it would be tacky to vote for herself.
“Yes. It’s tacky,” Martha said.
Jordan took her phone back. “It’s not tacky if it’s true.” She typed her own name in for Best Dressed.
“It’s still tacky,” Martha said.
“Why?” CJ asked. “If I was actually running for president, I’d vote for myself. I’d run a whole campaign. Why can’t I do that for the Superlatives? Actually, don’t answer that. Because I know the answer. It’s because as women we’re constantly taught not to advocate for ourselves. We’re taught not to ask for what we deserve. Well, guess what. I deserve this. I deserve it and I’m asking for it.”
CJ was cracking. She knew it. She was totally and completely cracking. It was the Stanford application. She still hadn’t written a single word of her transformational experience essay, which was due tonight, and it was making her doubt everything about herself. Ava looked over at her. “If you don’t calm down, I’m crushing up one of my Ativans and slipping it in your Diet Coke. Swear to god,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
“Can I get one?” Martha asked. CJ was pretty sure she was only half joking. Martha had finished her applications, which was the easy part for her. If she didn’t get a full ride, or close to it, it didn’t matter where she got in. She wouldn’t be able to go. CJ got angry just thinking about it.
When lunch ended, Ava grabbed CJ. “I need to talk to you for a second.” She pulled CJ into a quiet corner.
“You don’t have to drug me,” CJ said. “I promise you. I’m fine.”
“It’s not that.” Ava looked at her toes. “I decided to apply to Stanford. I was on the fence until literally last night.”