"Okay, this is an informational sheet Push Comes to Love sends around to 600 leading colleges. It's called 'My Personal Goals and Aspirations,'" the instructor told the college prep class. "Let's all talk about college," he continued as he handed out the worksheets.
Brittany took hers and stared at it. No one told me we'd be tested! she thought in a panic. She scanned the page in search of multiple-choice questions, hoping to use the tips the instructor had just given them about being able to eliminate two answers right away.
No luck. All the questions were open-ended ones like "Who I really am is..." and "My personal goals and aspirations include..." Skimming the page, she came to one that read, "What I want out of college is..." and paused. What did she want out of college?
She knew she wanted to be on the cheerleading squad, so she needed to pick a school with a football team worth cheering for. After that, she intended to pursue a modeling career just like Ashley-Amber. However, when she'd asked her stepmother about college, she'd looked at Brittany as though she'd just asked her if she wanted to drink a regular, non-diet Ultra Cola.
"College?" Ashley-Amber asked, tilting her head to one side. "Why would you want to do that, Britty? I mean, I've heard the sorority parties are okay but did you know you don't have to be a student to do Spring Break in Cancun?"
She closed her eyes and tried to picture herself in college. Automatically rejecting all thoughts of going to class or studying, her brain fast-forwarded to graduation. She pictured herself in a cap and gown, strutting down the runway to accept her diploma. Graduation ceremonies had runways, didn't they? She was a little startled when her imagination threw a brutal rejection of Kevin into her fantasy, but figured it was one of those brain things she'd heard about. Subcontract? Whatever.
Opening her eyes, Brittany tried to focus on her worksheet again, but her thoughts kept drifting away. Was she planning to go to college for the wrong reasons? What were the right reasons? What were her reasons? She stared at the paper in front of her, wondering what she was even doing in the class.
Kevin, of all people, had suggested it. He'd said his mom had signed him up for it and he wanted her to come too, "in case it got boring." Mrs. Thompson had been annoyed to learn that Brittany was going to be in the class with her son, but Brittany had already decided that if Kevin was smart enough to take the class, then so was she!
"Babe," Kevin hissed, "I'm on the 'future career' question. How do you spell NFL?"
Brittany only just barely managed not to roll her eyes. Okay, so Kevin didn't belong in the class at all. The question was, did she?
She was about to stand up and leave when the instructor cleared his throat. "Once you complete your worksheet, you're free to go. Your assignment for this weekend is to visit a college of your choice."
Her attention piqued, Brittany hesitated. Visit a college? It sounded interesting, but what if it just confirmed what she already feared-that she wasn't cut out for college? She twirled a lock of hair around her finger as she considered her options. She could quit the class and give up on college, but then she'd always wonder if she'd made the wrong choice. It would be almost as bad as the time at Cashman's when she'd settled on the green scarf instead of the blue and realized too late that it clashed with her eyes.
On the other hand, going on the visit would at least help her know for sure. Maybe the trip would convince her that she was wasting her time with thoughts of college, which would suck...but what if the opposite happened?
Brittany was still undecided until she realized that Mrs. Thompson would be really mad if she got into college and Kevin didn't.
She was touring the campus of Great Prairie State University first thing Saturday morning.
The visit didn't start off very well. She began with an interview with one of the admissions officers, and she knew she was in trouble as soon as he asked what her grades were like. Brittany's father had, after a lot of thought, finally suggested Great Prairie State to her because, in his words, "grades aren't...as big a deal there, honey."
Apparently even the less "brainy" colleges still cared about her D-average, as the look on the admissions officer's face clearly told her. "But I also do a lot of extracurricular activities!" she told him brightly. "I'm on the cheerleading squad, I write an advice column for the Lawndale Lowdown, and...um...I'm thinking about joining the yearbook staff?"
He cleared his throat and gave her a brief smile. "Your zeal is admirable, but I should warn you that we expect a minimum of a C average from all applicants."
Brittany nodded, wondering what "zeal" was. She hoped it wasn't something X-rated. "I'm sure I can manage that!" she assured him, trying to sound way more confident than she felt.
"Excellent," he said, in a tone that made clear he was even less confident about it than she was. "Now, tell me about your reasons for wanting to attend Great Prairie State. What do you feel this college can offer you?"
"Hmmm." Brittany tapped her chin, considered the question briefly, then grinned. "Oh, I know! I like the learning feeling!"
She'd been proud of her answer until she saw the dubious expression on the admissions officer's face.
By the end of the interview, Brittany was convinced that she had no business even visiting a college, let alone attending one. She felt like crying, which would have been the absolute worst-her eyes would get all puffy and gross. She decided to take a quick walk before leaving for good.
She had to admit that the campus itself was very pretty. The students were friendly, too. Almost everyone she met smiled and greeted her enthusiastically, or at least the boys did. She noticed a lot of activity near one building in particular, and as she came closer she saw a sign that read "Student Center."
She entered to find a crowd gathered around one end of the room, listening to a student read from a paper in her hand. "...struggling to discover the me that exists within." She continued, but Brittany stood motionless as the phrase seemed to fill her entire brain. She mouthed the words, testing them out and finding she liked them. Discover the me that exists within, she thought. That's what I'm trying to do!
She moved closer to the group, and Brittany quickly realized that she was reading a poem. It included a lot of words she didn't know, but the rhythm bounced like a catchy song and kept her attention. When the girl finished reading, the group applauded and Brittany joined in. The girl nodded her thanks and moved aside so someone else could take her place.
Brittany hurried over to the girl. "Hi!" she said. "I'm Brittany. That was a great poem. Who wrote it?"
The girl looked at her, confused. "I did," she replied.
"Wow, really?" Brittany's eyes went wide. "I didn't know people could write poems!"
Now the girl looked like she was trying not to laugh. "Where did you think they came from, then?"
"I mean, alive people." Brittany tilted her head. "All of the poems we've studied in class were written by dead guys. You mean people still write poetry?"
"...yes, they do." The girl studied Brittany's face. "I haven't seen you in any of my English classes. Who do you have?"
"Mr. O'Neill." Then Brittany realized what the girl meant. "Oh! I'm not a student. At least, not here. I go to high school, and I'm visiting."
"Visiting? Like, to see if you want to apply here?" When Brittany nodded, the girl sighed and muttered, "This place's standards were never very high, but this is ridiculous."
"Hey, Laura!" One boy emerged from the crowd, waving at the girl. "Great poem!"
"Thanks, Greg," Laura replied with a smile. Gesturing at Brittany, she reluctantly added, "This is, um...a high schooler I just met."
"Brittany," she supplied cheerfully.
Greg briefly nodded in her direction, and then turned his attention back to Laura. "I loved the way you switched meters during each change in tone, and then used alliteration to tie it all together."
"Oh, good," Laura said with relief. "I was afraid it would come off as a big muddle."
"Not at all," assured another girl who had just approached the group. "The rhyme scheme kept the whole thing cohesive."
Brittany was completely lost, but hated feeling left out of the conversation. "I liked the part about flowers!" she chimed in.
Greg looked at her doubtfully. "You mean the part where she used flowers crushed underfoot as a metaphor for the way society destroys the hopes and dreams of its idealistic youth?"
Brittany blinked, but her smile didn't waver. "Um, yes?"
"Whatever," the new girl said. "It was a masterpiece!"
"You're so sweet, April," Laura said.
"Just supporting my sister," April replied.
"She's your sister?" Brittany said, looking from one girl to another. They looked nothing alike.
April raised a fist. "Sisters in spirit. All women are sisters, you know?"
"Ohhhh," Brittany said, nodding slowly. "Then I guess I'm your sister, too!"
April shrugged. "No backing out now, I guess."
"I've always wanted a sister. I've got a stepmother who's a lot of fun, but she's like almost thirty so she doesn't always 'get' me, being so old and everything. Then there's my brother who's just a great big annoying brat. Hey, if we're sisters then can I borrow that top next weekend?"
The other three people stared at her, partly in shock at how she'd been able to say all of that without inhaling even once.
"What are you doing here?" April asked, not entirely rudely but also not entirely politely, either.
"I'm visiting," Brittany told her.
Laura added, "She's thinking of applying." She and her friends exchanged a look that Brittany couldn't decipher. She decided to assume it was an encouraging one. That involved frowning. And eye-rolling. And a small groan of distress.
"That's excellent news!" exclaimed a breathy voice behind her. Brittany turned to see a plump girl with very long brown hair gazing at her with unfocused eyes. "You'd fit in just wonderfully here."
"She would?" asked Laura, Greg, and April.
The girl nodded dreamily. "Can't you see her vibes? They're...harmonic." She smiled at something invisible off in the distance.
"And I'm sure that will look great on her application," Laura snorted. To Brittany she said, "In spite of Becca's completely sober opinion on the subject, I want to point out that this isn't a party school."
"Wait, is this because of the cheerleading squad?" April cut in.
"What about the cheerleading squad?" Laura asked.
"They only won the National College Cheerleading Championship three years in a row!" Brittany cried, happy to finally know the answer to a question.
"Such a prestigious honor for our school," April said.
Brittany nodded. "I know! All the Lawndale cheerleaders are planning to come here!"
"Great," Laura groaned.
At first Brittany was going to agree, but something about her tone made her pause. It almost sounded as though Laura did not think it was great. Everyone was looking at her (except Becca, who was looking with wide-eyed awe at a speck of dust floating in the air) with the same expression Daria often wore when Brittany talked to her.
Brittany knew she wasn't book-smart or street-smart or common-sense-smart or even basic-human-competency-smart, but she did understand social cliques and right now her instincts were telling her one thing: she didn't belong. They did not think that she fit in, and Brittany realized they might be right.
"Oh, no!" she cried. "I'm...I'm... unpopular!" She let out a long, shrill wail that turned quickly into sobs.
The others, startled at the outburst, were momentarily at a loss. Becca reacted first, grabbing Brittany in a tight hug and rocking back and forth with her. "Let those bad vibes out," she intoned. "Set them free into the universe."
Still crying, Brittany let out a flood of words instead. "Now I know what it's like for brains to be surrounded by popular kids! Where I came from I'm popular and happy and normal, but here it's like I'm some kind of alien on a planet I don't know anything about." She sniffled loudly. "It sucks."
"Wow." Laura looked at her with new interest. "That was kind of...poetic."
"Really?" Brittany asked, forgetting her misery for a moment. "But people say stuff sucks all the time!"
Laura shook her head. "No, the part about feeling like an alien. That's the kind of thing people can relate to."
"So I could write poems?" Brittany asked hopefully. "But what I said didn't rhyme!"
"Poems don't have to rhyme," Laura explained. "Sometimes they do-"
"Oh, wait a minute!" Brittany squealed. "I write cheers, and they rhyme, so I've been writing poems all along without realizing it!" She clapped her hands gleefully. "I'm a poet!"
Laura looked skeptical at this, but April spoke first. "You know what? If it empowers you, you should absolutely do it. Right on!" She held up a hand, and it took Brittany a few moments to realize she was waiting for a high-five.
"Yeah, right on!" Brittany echoed, slapping her hand.
"See?" Becca said dreamily. "I told you she was full of good vibes."
"You mean it's okay that I'm not a brain? Do you think I could still fit in and write poetry and have vibes and all that college stuff?" She thought about it. "I don't have to be an unpopular alien, just one of those people like in sci-fi movies who go to other planets and colorize them!"
"Colonize," corrected Laura, looking amused.
Greg pulled a notebook out of his bag. "Wait, could you say that again?"
Brittany tilted her head, trying to recall the words she'd just said. They'd already vanished from her memory, which was great at remembering cheerleading routines but very little else. "Uh...nope?"
"It's okay; I think I can capture the main points," Greg said, scribbling furiously.
"Wow, did I come up with another poem by accident?" she asked excitedly.
Laura chuckled. "No, Greg's just putting together another case study. He's a psych major," she added as explanation.
"Ohhhh," Brittany said, pretending to understand what that meant.
"I'm doing a research paper about different types of cognition and you'll be perfect for an example of an outlier!" Greg said without looking up from his notes.
Brittany leaned in to whisper in Laura's ear. "Is an outlier good?"
"It's...interesting," Laura replied. "Don't worry about it."
"Okay!"
"I'd love to interview you if you have time," Greg said, putting away his notebook. "I think I could do an entire section on you!"
"I'll tell you what I'd like to do on her," a boy with uneven stubble and ill-fitting jeans commented as he passed, looking slowly down Brittany's body and then back up again with a suggestive grin.
"How dare you!" April shouted, shaking a fist. "You need to show respect to all women, because we are your equals and deserve to be treated-"
The boy, still walking away, simply held up a middle finger and started laughing.
"Someone should teach that troglodyte a lesson," April muttered angrily.
"Yeah," Brittany said. She sprinted a few steps to catch up with the boy, then dropped to the ground and swept one leg out to knock the boy's feet out from under him. He landed flat on his back, where Brittany immediately pressed a foot against his neck. "Got something you want to say, loser?" she growled.
"S-s-sorry!" the boy gasped.
Brittany hopped back up. "It's okay!" She turned and bounced back to the group, who stared open-mouthed at her.
"That was..." April started to say in a scandalized tone, then stopped. She thought about it and smiled. "Great! I've always kind of wanted to do that to Barry but never had the guts."
"Thanks," Brittany said, blushing slightly. "It's not a big deal, though. I had to train Kevvy not to treat me like that." She thought back. "It took a lot of lessons." She sighed. "And one day it'll sink in."
"Who's 'Kevvy'?" Laura asked.
"He's my boyfriend. For now."
"Is he...like you?" Greg asked, starting to reach for his notebook again.
"You mean stupid?" Brittany replied bluntly. The others exchanged guilty looks. "I may be dumb, but I'm not that dumb." She shrugged. "Kevvy is, though."
"And is he thinking about applying here?" Laura asked.
Brittany snorted. "Ha! He'll be lucky if he graduates high school! Sometimes I can't believe the things he says...and..." She put a hand to her mouth, shocked by a sudden thought. "Oh, that's probably how you guys feel talking to me, isn't it?"
"Listen," Laura said slowly. "I know we weren't that welcoming earlier, but I'll give you credit for being smarter than I thought at first."
"Smart enough to apply here?" Brittany asked hopefully.
The others exchanged another look. "Um, stranger things have happened?" April offered.
"Yay!" Brittany cried, taking that as a firm endorsement. "You guys have been so nice, I'm going to write a cheer-I mean, a poem-just for you!" She cleared her throat and took a few steps back. "Prairie State rocks!" she yelled, raising an imaginary pom-pom in the air. "Prairie State's great!" she continued, raising the other arm to join it. "I can't wait," she added, then sprang up to perform a split jump. "To matriculate!"
Her new friends, plus a growing crowd, applauded.
"Thanks!" she said, beaming. "Gimme a G!" she shouted. "Gimme an R! Gimme an E!"
"I think you can stop now," April cut in. "It's kind of a long name, and..." She didn't want to say, "and you might misspell it," but couldn't think of any other way to finish the sentence so she just ended it there.
"Okay." Brittany looked over at the clock on the wall. "Oh, wow! I've been having so much fun I forgot I was supposed to leave half an hour ago!" She pounced on Laura, April, Greg, and Becca and pulled them into a crushing group hug. "Good luck with your poetry and your feminism and your psych project and your, um, vibes," she told each one.
The rest of the group waved and said goodbye as she walked away. "Maybe see you in a couple years," Laura added.
Brittany grinned. "I can't wait!" She floated out of the student center and smiled dreamily all the way home.
o O o
When she returned to the college prep class a few days later, she could barely contain her excitement. "...and these kids were reading poetry. Then they let me make up some of my own! And they were really interested in my feelings and thoughts and...stuff."
Kevin snorted. "Huh? That sounds stupid."
Brittany glared at him through narrowed eyes. How could she explain to him that college was more than just brains doing brainy things? That there was a world beyond cheering for sports and going to parties? That this world she'd discovered had no room for a mouth-breathing, knuckle-dragging, loser of a boyfriend-for-the-time-being like him?
She didn't have the words for it. So she settled for a brusque "Shut up, naked boy," before returning to her post-high school daydreams.