Chapter One Keely #2
We understand this may be disappointing, and we encourage you to address any factors that may improve future applications, such as having a co-signer.
No, no, no. . . There must be some mistake. Her application had been watertight. She frantically skimmed the rest of the email but always came back to the word denied. It may as well have been bolded and in bright red.
Her heart plummeted. She couldn’t afford grad school without a loan—she’d worked her tail off to keep her full ride scholarship all four years—and her parents weren’t an option to co-sign.
Keely’s mother had considered taking out a second mortgage just to pay for the divorce lawyer. She couldn’t afford Keely’s debt too.
Some of the programs Keely had been accepted to weren’t feasible without funding, and some of the others were so outlandish her acceptance was contingent on the loan itself.
Caltech—her dream school—was the latter.
And she’d failed to secure it.
She looked down at the data the lab computer spat out in crisp black lines. The coefficients, the very ones she’d helped Sam with upstairs, were all off. Her hypothesis had been disproven.
That had failed, too.
Pressure, dense and dark, made a home on Keely’s chest. Re-running the test tonight wasn’t an option. It would take four hours, and that was assuming she had enough sample to retest, which she wasn’t sure she did.
If she didn’t find a way around the loan problem, her final thesis wouldn’t matter anyway. She couldn’t be a biochemist without a master’s degree. It would be like a doctor using a toy stethoscope.
Numbly, Keely packed up. Her planner. Her pens. The sheets of data, tucked neatly into their assigned folder.
She tugged on her winter coat, blinking the sting from her eyes, and began the walk home.
Tears weren’t on her to-do list today.
· · · · ·
When Keely made it back to her apartment after watering Selina’s plant, a few of those tears had managed to slip free anyway. She told herself it was the frigid winter air.
Her roommate and best friend, Zoey Lamb, stood at the stove, dark curls wound unnaturally tighter from the steam of whatever was simmering.
Her phone, propped in an open cabinet, was on a video call.
Zoey’s Italian-American family lived in Boston, but that didn’t stop Zoey’s mom Rina from trying to ensure Zoey never went more than a week without authentic Italian, even if it meant watching her like a hawk on FaceTime while she talked Zoey through step-by-step instructions.
Zoey looked back at Keely, eyes rounding out in a silent plea. “I need to go, Mamma.”
A voice floated over the bubbling sauce. “Is that Keely I see trying to sneak in behind you? Put her on the phone.”
Mustering up a smile for her adopted second mother, Keely slipped off her jacket and placed her backpack in a dining chair. “Give me a second.”
“I tried,” Zoey mumbled.
Keely staunchly ignored her, stepping into the frame. “Hi, Rina.”
“Look at you! Your nose is all red. It’s too cold for you there,” Rina said. “Good thing California is so much warmer.”
At this, Keely’s eyes watered again. California was still going to happen.
Wasn’t it?
Zoey’s gaze narrowed as she clocked Keely’s mood. “Time for Mom to go,” she hissed at a volume only Keely could hear. She turned back to her phone, reaching for the screen in mock panic, shouting “oh no” as her thumb hit the end-call button.
Despite the heaviness on her shoulders (and in her email inbox), Keely managed a tiny smile at the staged theatrics. “Won’t she call back, like, immediately?”
The phone was buzzing already, but Zoey left it, waving a hand in dismissal. “I’ll say I dropped her in the sauce.”
“Naturally,” Keely said flatly.
Zoey grabbed the sauce spoon and held it out for Keely. “What’s wrong? Why were you crying?”
“I was only tearing up a little.” Keely sipped at the spoon and a garbled noise left her throat, the hearty flavors knocking the truth free. “My loan application got denied.”
A glob of sauce fell on the floor between them as Zoey’s hand wobbled. “For Caltech?”
Keely nodded. “It will be fine.” Probably. Maybe. “They said I can reapply. Or get a co-signer.” She swiped a rag from the sink and cleaned up the mess. “I’ll figure something out.”
Zoey chewed her rose-pink bottom lip. “Why don’t you go see your guidance counselor tomorrow? Isn’t it her job to help you figure this stuff out?”
Of course. Dr. Goff would know how to help Keely. Other loans to apply for, ways to boost her application. Keely could bring her coffee as a pre-emptive thank you.
“You’re a genius,” Keely told her best friend.
Zoey preened and gathered the homemade pasta from the wooden drying rack. “Technically a few points shy, but I’m going to test again at the end of the year.” She winked. “Can you grab the garlic bread from the freezer?”
Keely feigned a gasp. “Storebought bread? What would Rina say?”
“Just wait until she finds out I like Olive Garden. I’ll be disowned.”
As they finished dinner, some of the tension eased from the base of Keely’s spine. Zoey was right. This mess was easily sorted, especially after pasta and a good night’s sleep.