Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Friday arrives with a to-do list that’s a mile long and emotionally intense: meet with Kim, meet with my academic advisor, Operation Cookies with Jake after his hockey practice, and a family dinner tonight because Dad is supposedly flying home from Australia.
After helping another track athlete with a sprained ankle during swim class (is there an ankle epidemic going around?), I quickly rinse off in the shower and grab my things before heading to the small corner office that the swim staff and captains use during swim season.
Unfortunately, Analiese is already sitting on one of the chairs in front of the desk, smiling at Kim as they make small talk.
“Good morning,” I say in the doorway, my backpack slung over one shoulder. “Is this a good time to meet, Coach? Or should I come back when you’re done with Analiese?”
Kim turns her smile towards me and waves me inside with one hand. “Come on in, Avery. Thanks for meeting with me this morning. Analiese is part of this meeting too.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, but Kim either doesn’t hear me or chooses not to respond.
I enter slowly and drop into the empty seat, subtly scootching it several inches away from her. Analiese notices and smirks. She, just as subtly, grabs her backpack from the floor by her feet and moves it, so it’s now leaning against mine. My foot smoothly kicks it away.
Kim, completely oblivious to the war being waged behind the desk outside her viewpoint, leans back in her chair and takes a sip from her pink travel mug.
“Well, girls, it was an impossible choice so I decided not to choose at all! You’ve both been invaluable assets to the Valley Prep swim team for the past three years and you have both gone above and beyond in showing your leadership potential.
Which is why I’d like to ask you to be co-captains for our season starting in January. ”
Co-captains?! Is this some alternate universe where only the worst-possible things happen?
I plaster a smile on my face while my brain scrambles to fix this. This can still be a win for the vision board—co-captain still counts as captain, right? It’s not like MIT, or any other college, will care. It’s just that it’d be shared with… Analiese.
“We’ve never had co-captains since I’ve been on the team. Is there precedent for this?” Analiese asks.
My head snaps in her direction, and I see the tension lining her eyes. For some reason it didn’t occur to me that Analiese would oppose this as well. And for the record, I agree with her question!
“Well, no, technically,” Kim stumbles a little before taking a breath. “The boys’ hockey team has had a co-captain arrangement within the past couple of years, so this situation isn’t totally without precedent at Valley Prep in general.”
I feel Analiese’s gaze boring into me, almost willing me to support her in arguing with Kim. But then I realize… perhaps a spirit of supportive compromise will make me appear the more mature ‘captain’ here.
“Thank you so much for trusting me to co-lead this year’s team. We,” I emphasize with a plastic grin, “will work together with no issue, Coach.”
Analiese releases a little huff. She knows when the battle is lost, and I know she wants to put “captain” on her resume as much as I do. “Yes, thank you, Coach. I’m looking forward to the season. Let me know what I can do to help with scheduling or anything else,” she says.
I don’t think it’s my imagination making her tone feel completely fake. It’s almost impossible to resist the urge to roll my eyes at her clearly platitudinous offers of assistance.
“Great, I knew I could rely on you girls,” Kim says. “This information isn’t public yet, but the assistant coach won’t be returning this season, so I’ll be leaning on you a lot.”
Kim dismisses us and I hoof it out of there to avoid any more interaction with Analiese.
By mid-morning, my brain is already fatigued from imagining all the up-close-and-personal time I’ll have to spend with her as co-captains, but a fresh wave of energy hits as I stride down the hall for the meeting with my academic advisor.
This meeting isn’t strictly necessary, as Mrs. Nelson, my advisor, reminded me, but I am a big fan of dotting my i’s and crossing my t’s.
Spring semester is not the time for a surprise trapdoor to open under me when I’m sprinting toward graduation while balancing everything in my life.
I breeze through the school admin area toward the hall where the guidance counselors have offices. There’s a bright banner reminding students the school provides assistance with college planning. I don’t need the reminder—my college applications are done and submitted.
Mrs. Nelson is sitting at her desk and brushing what looks like the remains of a butternut donut off her silk blouse when I gently knock on the open door to get her attention.
“Mrs. Nelson? I’m here for our 10:15 meeting?”
“Ah, yes, come in, Avery. Take a seat.”
I sit down and open my bag. My tablet screen lights up with a message on Connection Services from Mr. Pi, spinning my mind back to our last conversation.
I shouldn’t have let my guard down—maybe I confided in him too much, even if it is anonymous.
I don’t need some rando telling me there’s nothing wrong with me; what I need is Mrs. Nelson to reassure me my plans are on track.
I darken the tablet screen and shove it behind a binder.
I pull my notebook out of my backpack and pop open a fresh blue ballpoint pen, ready to take notes. A quick review of the bullet list agenda I’d written for this meeting, then my most recent transcript comes out as a reference.
“So, what would you like to discuss?” She crosses her arms on her desk and leans forward slightly.
“Well, as you know, I’m proactively planning my college career.
” I pause as she releases a long-suffering sigh and nods.
It’s true that I’ve prioritized meeting regularly with her for the past three years, but as a school counselor isn’t this part of her job?
She should be thankful to have a student so motivated on her roster.
“All the colleges we've previously discussed have received applications, including early decision for MIT. However, there are still some items on my agenda that need to be crossed off the list. I’ve recently been made captain of the swim team.” There’s no need to mention the ‘co-captain’ issue for now.
“I always forget we have a swim team, what with the pool being in the basement. But that’s great! Congratulations, Avery.”
“Thanks. Now I’d like to discuss the issue of this year’s valedictorian.” Obviously, this is imperative. This is one of the crowning achievements of my high school career and the pinnacle of success on my vision board.
Mrs. Nelson’s eyebrows crinkle in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I want to make sure I’m on track to be valedictorian.”
She scootches her chair forward and taps her fingers on the keyboard for a moment, then clicks with the mouse.
I assume she’s checking my current GPA and lightly doodle in the margin of my notebook while waiting.
I cringe as I remember my last “doodle” of the burning dumpster.
This time I stick to doodling my favorite snacks. That’s safe.
After a few moments, I look up to see Mrs. Nelson STILL clicking around on her computer with a pensive look.
“My grade in calculus started out weak this semester, but I’ve really turned it around and it should only go up from here. I assume I’m still at least in the top two, correct?”
She finally tears her eyes away from the computer screen to look at me. Her green eyes no longer look exasperated at my thoroughness. Instead, they look surprised.
“I’m sorry, Avery, but… no. It seems in this year’s graduating class, you’re currently ranked sixth.”
“WHAT?!” I shoot to my feet, notebook and pen flying off my lap and clattering onto the floor. Both hands land on her desk as I crane my neck to see her screen.
“Really, Avery!” Mrs. Nelson exclaims then quickly pokes the power button on the monitor to turn off the display. “You can’t see other students’ private information! Sit down, Avery James.”
Her voice is filled with the authority of a woman who’s raised and disciplined children for many, many years. After a deep breath, I reclaim my chair, then lean down to retrieve the notebook and pen.
“I apologize for that outburst, Mrs. Nelson,” I say as I primly smooth my skirt and flick my hair over my shoulder. “But there must be some mistake. At the end of last year I was neck-and-neck with Analiese for top of our class.”
“Yes, I remember. However, your class is very competitive and there have always been several kids with high GPAs very close to yours. And while art is great for rounding out your transcript, it doesn’t have the GPA weight as something like AP Art History.
Also, there have been a couple transfer students with very impressive records. ”
Her words wash over me and for a moment they seem to be spoken in some foreign language I haven’t had the time to study yet. She can’t mean what she just said.
“Is Analiese in AP Art History?”
“You know I can’t give out other students’—”
“—Fine. Can you check the rankings again, please?”
She sighs again, the noise grating against my nerves. She keeps acting like I’m an unreasonable burden when she’s literally ruining my life!
“There’s no mistake. Things can still change by the spring. But, Avery, your GPA is still phenomenal, and there’s every reason to expect you’ll be able to get into your top school choices for college.”
“But—”
“Keep doing what you’re doing. Your work is excellent and all your teachers love you.”
“Mrs. Nelson, that’s not enough.”
“I’m fully confident you’ll be in my office early next spring to update me with the exciting news that you got into your dream university.”
This time it’s my turn to sigh. “Mrs. Nelson, can you clear this up for me: is there any chance I’ll be able to make valedictorian?”
Her eyes drop for a beat, then rise to meet mine with steadiness, like she knows I need to hear this with 100% confidence.
“No.”
I nod once, then quickly pack my things and stand.
“Thank you for your time.”
The halls buzz with conversation and the slam of lockers as everyone finishes the morning break and prepares to head to their third period class.
It's all a foggy haze, like I'm having an out-of-body experience or dissociating (again).
A part of my brain registers the intercom announcement stating that—once again—students are not permitted to message on Connection Services during classroom hours.
That seems like the least important thing in the world at this point.
Nothing makes sense! On the one hand, at least I am a swim captain, even if I’m not the swim captain, but to not even be in the running for valedictorian?! Salutatorian is a pipe dream at this point.
That is a major, crushing blow to all of my carefully laid plans.
Braden was valedictorian last year, and I’m positive it helped him get into MIT.
How am I going to get in now? What if they accept me but then rescind it once they see I’ve failed to be in the top spot?
And if I do get in, is Braden even there?
And if he is, does he want me there with him anymore?
The questions hurtle through my brain faster than the speed of light; the beginnings of a killer headache hover just behind my eyes. I massage my temples and do my best to ignore the students jostling me as I bumble my way to my next class.
“Avery!”
I turn at the sound of my name, but it feels like I’m moving through molasses. My movements are slow and disjointed, and it’s hard to pinpoint who is calling my name. Jenna appears at my side.
“Avery James! This can’t go on any longer. What is going on with you?”
I look at my friend—the friend I’ve avoided for too long and who I’ve been a terrible friend to. Tears spring to my eyes. “I can’t! I just can’t right now!” I yell.
I shoulder past her and hurry down the hall towards physics.