CHAPTER NINETEEN

Doris Toomes looked over her daughter's shoulder at the glowing laptop screen and watched text appear at an amazing rate. "In my day, we had to send away for paper applications, fill out every single one by hand, and send them all back in the mail."

Liz Allan didn't look away from the screen. Her fingers did not slow their furious rate of travel across the keyboard. "Was it uphill in both directions?" she deadpanned.

Doris broke out laughing. "And the snow was six feet deep!" Liz joined in the laughter. It was an old joke, one they used frequently, but they still loved it. Each woman thought privately how much they would miss it, this time next year.

"How's it coming, honey?"

"Great. I'm done with CalTech, Culver, and Empire State. I just sent Northwestern, and I'm just getting started on University of Chicago."

Doris walked from the dining room table, Liz's college application command center, to the kitchen. "I'm not entirely sold on Chicago." She opened a cabinet, took down a glass.

Liz rolled her eyes. Not this again. "Chicago has first-rate science and business programs, and it's not even as far away as some of the other schools I've applied to." She'd explained this half a dozen times.

Doris closed the refrigerator, working the cap off a jug of orange-mango-pineapple juice. "It's twelve hours by car or train, which means you have to fly to visit home, which means it might as well be as far away as those other schools." She poured the juice into the glass and opened the refrigerator to put the jug back. "And one of the highest crime rates in the country." She returned to the dining room, sat at the table opposite her daughter, pushed the glass across to where Liz could reach it. In the other room, the refrigerator door swung shut. "I swear I won't have a decent night's sleep for four years!"

Liz goggled over the laptop at her mother. "And New York doesn't have crime?"

"New York has super-heroes. Like Spider-Man. And Lu-u-uke Ca-a-age." She drew the name out, momentarily far away.

The eyes rolled again. "Mom, it's one school out of twenty-seven. Even if I get in, I might not get the scholarships I'll need —"

"Oh, honey, don't you worry about that. Your father and I will make sure you can go to any college you want to."

"— and even if I get those, I might decide to go to another school."

"Why are you applying to so many schools? It's not like any of them are going to turn you down. Four point three GPA, SAT scores through the roof, and Academic Decathlon national champions team captain!" She beamed with pride. "I am so proud of you!"

Liz basked in her mother's love for a moment, before she took a swallow of the juice. Her favorite. She hadn't even realized she was thirsty. "You taught me that if I want to have choices in life, I'd have to work for them. So I did. I worked very hard to be able to apply to any college I want. Now that I can, I'm going to apply to every college I want so I will have more choices when decisions come out. And all the colleges I'm applying to are nationally ranked in almost every program, so no matter which one I choose, I'll have lots of choices when I get there."

Doris' smile, almost impossibly, grew happier. "That's my girl. You are gonna take this world by storm!"

Liz rocked her shoulders gently. "We-e-ell, college by storm, anyway. The world will have to wait."

"You know, Cornell is a nice school." She stood to go, let Liz get back to work.

"Yes it is. That's why it's on the list." Liz put her fingers on the keyboard again.

"Far enough away you'd be on your own, close enough to visit as many weekends as you like..." Doris walked out of the room.

"Columbia and NYU are even closer, but I'm still applying to them, too."

"Cor-nell has ski-ing..." the older woman sang from the hallway.

"And it's your al-ma ma-ter..." the younger woman sang, already typing again. She called out louder, "I'll do Cornell next, okay? Happy?"

Doris leaned in the doorway. "Whatever you want, honey, it's completely up to you." She ducked back before Liz's glare could find her. It was really Doris' glare, passed down successfully to the next generation.

She chuckled all the way up the stairs.

Adrian Toomes was just coming out of the shower. He rubbed a towel over his head (briefly) and kissed his wife. "Hey there. What are my favorite gals up to?"

Doris' smile turned wicked. "Girl talk. Bore you silly."