When Farkle Minkus gets his acceptance letter to Quincy University, it's as if the entire city of Manhattan is in chaos.
Maybe it's because for as long as Farkle has known the world, it's always been New York City. He's never known anything other than the bustling streets, the constant motion and drive and hubbub. He's grown up surrounded by the city that never sleeps, and there's rarely a day where chaos isn't a factor. Not a day goes by where someone in the city isn't celebrating something.
More likely, however, it's the tenacity with which his mother celebrates his college acceptances that makes it feel as though the entire city of New York must be in on the festivities. Each time he receives a new acceptance letter she tacks it up on the penthouse refrigerator, giving him a tight hug and another kiss on the top of his head for his "brilliant, brilliant mind."
Harvard. Princeton. Yale. Stanford. The letters filter in one by one and clutter the stainless steel of the only fridge door out of the seven they have scattered throughout the building he actually uses, making it feel as though he's peering into some strange, paper-scaled monster every time he wants to grab a yogurt.
Then, finally, Quincy.
His mother has the chef arrange his favorite meal that evening, as she did for the other acceptances before it. The two of them sit down together for dinner, waiting to see if Stuart will make it home in time to join the merriment. Halfway through the soup, it's evident work once again takes priority.
Farkle doesn't feel much either way—it's not as though he's surprised.
Even still, his father makes a special trip to his room that night when he eventually arrives home well after midnight. He pokes his head in to see if he's still up, that pleased smile lighting up his face when he finds his son wide awake and waiting for his praise.
Stuart offers him the same congratulations he gave him for all the other letters—a little less enthusiastic than Princeton, Farkle notices, but it's never been a secret that was his top choice for him—and a squeeze on the shoulder.
It means more than the specialty dinners and suffocating hugs and letters collecting like gnats on the fridge. Considering how hard he works for his father's approval, the small gesture of pride speaks volumes. To Farkle, it speaks louder than any New York hustle and bustle.
His friends offer more traditional support. Ethan eagerly questions whether or not he thinks he's going to accept the admission offer and go all the way across the country to California, torn between genuine happiness for his good friend and worry over how far away he's going to go. Noah ignores all the uncertainty, giving Farkle a hearty pat on the shoulder and marveling at how wild it's going to be when he becomes a California boy.
Although he can hardly picture himself as a true California boy—he's far too attached to his pretentious New York intellectual roots—he has the feeling Noah is onto something. Of all the acceptance letters he's received so far, something about Quincy occupies his attention and won't let it go.
Perhaps it's because while he's always wanted his parents to be proud of him, there's a small part of him that wants to break the mold. Aside from his occasionally sharp attitude and penchant for weed—an indulgence he would never willingly inform his parents of regardless—he's never exactly gone against their expectations, and there's some unsung teenage desire itching at him to do the unexpected.
His father wants Princeton, and his mother wants what his father wants. So, his brain determines, Quincy University it is.
Perhaps it's because it is so far away, California feeling like an ambitious jump from the metaphorical nest. An entire continent between the person he grew up as, the person he used to be, and the person he knows he can become. Farkle always dreamed that his transition to college would be meaningful, that university would be when he really flourished, and what better way to spread your wings than to fly far, far away?
As valid as all his theories are, he knows none of them are quite right. His attraction to Quincy is inexplicable, an instinct rooted deep in his stomach and pushing him westward. He's never been one to believe in fate or a higher power, but whatever it is that is pulling him on the road less traveled by seems in some way cosmic. When he lies in bed at night and stares at the constellations twinkling along his ceiling, they seem as though they're whispering it back to him.
He doesn't trust the great beyond, but he trusts the stars. They operate by one law, gravity, and he suspects it's a unique kind of gravity that's guiding him where he's supposed to go.
All other opinions and his father's mild disappoint aside, when he submits his acceptance to Quincy University it feels like a step in the right direction. Like all great scientists, the only way he's going to understand whether or not his hypothesis of belonging is correct is if he experiments and finds out for himself. Whatever comes next, he decides, is a forgone conclusion waiting to be discovered.
Farkle believes he's a pretty excellent scientist, and this experiment is the one he's been waiting his entire life to conduct. This one, he theorizes, is going to be the greatest discovery he ever makes.
When Lucas Friar gets his acceptance letter to Quincy University, it's quiet.
There's no grand fanfare, no rush of anticipation to open it and find out the fate of his entire future. The letter is deposited in their mailbox down the dusty driveway, brought in by their father with the rest before he leaves for work. It waits unassumingly on the kitchen counter until well into the afternoon when Lucas is finished with his chores down the hill at the stables.
Even then, it remains unopened. Lucas takes the envelope, too nervous to open it, and stuffs it into his jeans as he heads out the door to make his shift at the diner. Whether or not he gets into Quincy, he needs money, and he can't allow himself to be thrown off by news he doesn't want to hear.
It burns a hole in his back pocket as he busses tables, stinging harsher with the silent uncertainty than an outright rejection.
He allows Dylan to distract him by dodging the dirty napkins he tosses at him when the boss isn't looking, and Asher helps by enlisting his help on the crossword puzzle of the week. The two of them are quiet as they ruminate over the word clues during their break, cramped onto overturned buckets for seating. Lucas twirls a straw wrapper between his fingers. Asher blows a bubble before snapping his gum, continuing to chew it thoughtfully as he brainstorms a six letter word for "pretentious, usually."
They don't talk, but it doesn't matter. The company is comforting, and Lucas has never particularly needed noise to feel at ease. He likes the quiet most of the time, and when he's with his friends their presence is enough to drown out the kind he doesn't enjoy.
The method remains effective as the three of them meet with Vanessa after closing up, heading down to the bowling alley to catch up with Zay and score a free game before his shift ends.
He puts all his mental energy into getting as many strikes as he can, attempting to keep up with Vanessa who has always been his only real competition at the game. Dylan is a gutter ball magnet and Asher usually makes a point of sending it down the lane in the most ridiculous fashion possible each frame. Despite being the actual employee Zay is by far the worst, complaining every turn that the ball is too heavy and the place smells like peanuts and cigarette smoke and they'd feel differently about sticking their fingers into the holes of some of these rollers if they'd seen the other people using them throughout the day.
Per their usual routine, after saying goodbye to the group Lucas drives Zay to the nearest gas station where he runs in to pick up the disgusting beverage of the week. This time around, it's some variant of an energy drink that is a revolting shade of purple. Having retrieved the goods, they drive out to the pastures and park in the middle of the grass not fenced off for the cows.
Stretched out in the bed of the pickup truck, Lucas and Zay stare up at the stars and ramble on about whatever the topic of the night seems to be. They pass the beverage of choice back and forth between them, taking reluctant sips and shuddering with each one but reliably finishing the drink anyway. It's been their routine since Lucas could drive, and there's no greater comfort to him when he feels like everything he knows could fall apart in an instant based on what the paper crushed in his back pocket has decided about his worth as a human being.
He keeps the existence of the letter a secret for now, but he does venture the topic of waiting for acceptances to see what his best friend thinks. Classic enough, Zay erupts into a rant about the idiocy of the college admission process and how puffed up the administrations have to be to feel like they have the right to decide a teenager's future based on a poorly constructed application.
Half of the stuff he claims is either incorrect or doesn't make sense, but his delivery is always riveting and hilarious and never fails to make Lucas crack up. For all the people he's known in his life, no one has ever made him laugh as hard as Zay Babineaux. Regardless of where they end up, he doesn't know what it's going to be like not having him right by his side. He doesn't know if he'll ever find anyone else who he clicks with as easily as him.
After concluding his rant against the establishment, Zay softens a bit and promises Lucas that no matter what happens, things are going to work out. Both of them are catches, he claims, and the universe has to be looking out for them somehow. They're going to get everything they deserve, which in his humble opinion is just about everything.
. Quincy or not, Zay assures him, he's going to get everything he wants in life. Despite the nerves in his stomach and the anxiety tingling in his shoulder blades, Lucas chooses to believe him.
The letter is pushed from his mind until after he drops Zay off, when the silence of the drive home forces him back to it again. Despite the peaceful sound of the crickets along the road and the wind rushing through the half-rolled windows, it's deafening with the weight of his future in his back pocket.
When he pulls back into the driveway and kills the engine, he doesn't return to the house. He passes it by and heads down the hill towards the stables, his golden retriever Sheila perking up and leaping off the back porch after him.
It isn't until he's situated comfortably in Sophia's box stall, crouched in front of the hay stack with Sheila loyally by his feet, that he allows himself to open it. The paper is worn in his hands from the folding. He gives himself a papercut attempting to open it, considering how much his hands are shaking.
Dear Lucas James Friar, printed in neat type face below the Quincy crest and return address. It's strange enough to read his own name, almost as if the letter couldn't possibly belong to him regardless of what it says next. Like he never deserved the chance in the first place.
Congratulations!
Lucas exhales after what feels like months of holding his breath, breaking into a smile in spite of himself. For a moment he can't even bring himself to keep reading, pressing his palms to his eyes and grinning so hard it hurts. Not making a sound of exclamation, but it feels as though every single cell in his body is screaming in victory.
Once he composes himself enough to read coherently, he forces himself to read the rest of the letter. The information explaining he has been accepted on conditional scholarship, and depending upon his performance in Fall semester he may be eligible for further compensation—even a potential full ride. Describing the diverse and prestigious community of students he'll be joining as part of the freshman class, an elite accomplishment that only hard work and natural talent could have earned. One final congratulations and a warm promise that the university is eager to hear from him soon.
Lucas knows it's all prewritten and sent to every other student who was admitted, but he can't but feel as though they're speaking right to him. That they know how hard he's worked, how badly he wants the chance to make something of himself, and they heard him. Amidst the noise of thousands of others, he stood out and they heard him.
He collapses back against the hay, exhaling a laugh. He spins the letter in his fingers, unable to keep the elated beam off his face as he stares at the wooden hayloft above him. For all the odds stacked against him, he proved he could get this far. He proved he's something worth considering, and now he has the chance to take it even further. He has the chance to be something more than what he already is.
Accepting the admission offer isn't even a question. Lucas knows in his heart it's where he belongs, and whatever he learns there is going to change him for the better.
The belief grows stronger in the quiet joy of the night. He's Lucas James Friar, the recipient of acceptance to Quincy University, and he's going to get everything he wants in life.
Whatever is waiting for him at Quincy University, it's going to change everything.