Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,87
and it made him stop. He turned back and looked at her, softening when their eyes met. “Happy birthday, Jordan.”
“Thanks,” she whispered softly.
Then he was gone.
CJ and Logan kept a slow pace for the first lap while their legs warmed up. The night was cold, and their breath stretched out in front of them in thick white puffs that fluttered and disappeared. Fluttered and disappeared.
“Did you finish your essay?” Logan asked.
“No.” CJ didn’t want to think about her essay. She just wanted to run.
“Are you close?”
“No.”
CJ quickened her pace. Logan matched her speed.
“Did you finish yours?” CJ asked.
“Yeah. It’s… done. That’s all I can say. It’s not great. It’s not terrible. It’s done.”
She felt him pick up the tempo, and she moved her legs in time with his.
“I’m scared,” CJ said as they settled into their new rhythm.
“Me too. What if I’m making all the wrong choices?”
CJ was more worried about not having any choices to make. She’d applied to eight schools. Seven of them were top tier. What if they didn’t want her?
She ran faster. He matched her new pace. Then he ran faster and she matched his. This went on for several laps. Raise and match. Raise and match. It was unspoken that they were in a race. CJ wanted to win. She needed to win. She ran harder and harder. Faster and faster. Next to her, Logan stumbled. It was the advantage she needed to break out ahead. As she raced across the imaginary finish line, the relief exploded out of her. She could still win something. If she worked hard enough and ran fast enough, she could still win. She stopped running and turned around. Logan was right there.
“Oh,” she said between deep breaths. “I thought you were farther back.”
“No.” He was breathless too. “I’m right here.”
It was impossible to say who leaned in first. CJ only knew that one minute they were racing and the next minute they were kissing. Their lips moved together in a way that was desperate and searching, as if they both needed this more than they’d ever needed anything in their entire lives. CJ’s mind went blissfully blank. She wasn’t anywhere except on that track, in that exact moment, kissing Logan Diffenderfer. It took away all of her pain, all of her self-doubt, and all of her fear.
Which is why she pulled away.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
CJ ran all the way home, sat down at her computer, and wrote her essay.
Dear Stanford Admissions Committee,
I have not had the kind of experience you’ve asked me to write about.
I have never woken up in a hospital bed to a doctor telling me that my life had just changed forever.
I have never had to process the news that the future I worked so hard for was no longer available to me because of money.
I have never stood across the street from the mother who gave me up because I thought that just a small glimpse of her might help my world make sense.
I have never had my whole world feel like it was ending in the middle of a game of volleyball.
I have seen these experiences happen to people I love, but at most, I have only ever been a witness. I have never had a transformational experience.
I know it’s only a matter of time. I know that someday the phone will ring, or there will be a knock on the door, or something will happen that will make my life forever different. I know how it will impact me, because I know how it has impacted the people I love. It will make me stronger in some ways. It will make me more vulnerable in others. It will leave a residue. But also a shine. It will be a thing that happened to me, but not the thing that defines me. It will change me in some ways. Perhaps it will change me in many ways. But it will not change who I am.
That’s why I feel confident saying that the fact that I haven’t had this type of experience yet does not make me any less worthy of attending your institution. I know that one single experience, one single score, or one single anything does not define me. I know exactly who I am. I am someone who deserves to attend Stanford in the fall. But I am also someone who will not be defined by the rejection if you don’t agree.