It Sounded Better in My Head - Nina Kenwood Page 0,72
of study I went through in year twelve, I thought I would feel something…more. I want to jump around the room, and scream and cry with happiness. Instead I’m already thinking about how big and scary the university is, and how I have no idea what I want to major in. And what does an arts degree get you anyway? Why didn’t I apply for a law degree or a business degree or something vaguely useful? Or, on the other hand, why didn’t I apply for something risky and creative and interesting? Why am I even going to university? I should be travelling, experiencing real life. Nothing I’ve ever done has felt like real life to me.
I call Mum, then Dad, and they’re both filled with excitement and pride, which should make me feel better, but somehow makes me feel worse, partly because I have to have pretty much the same conversation twice.
I think maybe I am very bad at being happy for myself.
I text Lucy, and she doesn’t respond, which is strange. I want to text Zach, but I can’t, because we’re still fighting, or, at least, I’m still furious at him and he hasn’t apologised and I don’t know where we stand with each other, and the fact that our friendship is a mess right now is one of the main factors contributing to my unease about everything.
Then my phone rings, and Lucy’s name appears on the screen.
‘Hi,’ I say.
‘I’m outside.’
‘My house?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, come in.’
I go to the front door, and Lucy is standing there, looking upset. ‘What’s wrong?’ I say.
‘I didn’t get in.’
‘Oh, Luce.’
I hug her, and lead her into the lounge room. I fill the kettle, putting a bag of Lucy’s favourite herbal tea into the most soothing mug we own, which is so big that it is more bowl than cup.
Lucy starts pacing in my lounge room. ‘Okay, first tell me what you got into,’ she says to me.
‘Arts at Melbourne.’
‘Good. Okay. That makes me feel a bit better,’ she says.
‘So you didn’t get into commerce at Melbourne?’ That was her first preference plan. Do a commerce degree, and then post-grad law.
‘No.’
‘Did you get into law?’ Her second, third and fourth preferences were undergrad law at other universities.
‘No.’
‘At any uni?’
‘Nope.’
‘How is that possible?’ Lucy got great marks. Her mother bought her a monogrammed leather satchel as a graduation gift for doing so well.
Now Lucy’s face crumples a little, and she doesn’t meet my eye. She sits down on the couch and puts her head into her hands. ‘I don’t know how to say it,’ she says.
The kettle pings then, and I leave her for a moment to make the tea and bring it back in. I put it on the coffee table in front of her.
‘Careful, it’s hot,’ I say, like she’s a little kid.
She still doesn’t raise her head from her hands. I take the cup back to the kitchen and put some cold water in, because I’m worried she’s too distracted to listen to what I’m saying and she’ll take a big mouthful and burn herself.
‘Okay, I’m just going to say it,’ she says, when I put the cup down a second time.
‘Good.’
‘On the count of three.’
‘Okay.’
‘Can you do the count?’
‘One, two, three.’
‘That was too fast. I wasn’t ready.’
‘One…two…three.’
Lucy takes a huge breath in and lets it out. Her hands are shaking a little. ‘One more time.’
‘Luce. Come on.’ She’s starting to scare me.
‘Just do it one more time.’
‘One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three one thousand.’
‘Okay. Okay. Here it is. I lied about my score.’
‘You what?’
‘You and Zach got such great marks, and I saw them, and I just…pretended I got that mark too.’
The morning our results were announced, the three of us had our usual group chat. Zach posted his mark first, then I wrote mine, and now I think about it, there was definitely a pause before Lucy posted hers. At the time it had seemed miraculous and yet completely right that we all got marks so close. We all worked so hard. We were all brought up to be over achievers. We studied together. It made sense. But maybe it didn’t.
‘Oh, Lucy.’
‘My score isn’t even that bad! It’s fine. Average, maybe. It just isn’t amazing like yours. It wasn’t good enough for law. Or anything at Melbourne Uni. I don’t know why I lied. There’s something wrong with me, probably.’