APRIL
My daughter was perfect.
At least, that was what I thought. Every new mother said that. Maybe at this point during her life, she wasn't different from any other child. She slept most of the day and yet it still seemed like I wasn't getting near enough sleep, even with Jackson at home for the first two weeks of her life. I try to sleep when she sleeps, but there was always some kind of distraction – messages from well-meaning loved ones, the fact that recovery was still painful, the ever-growing pile of laundry and constant need for more diapers or baby wipes or butt cream. Quinn had a pair of lungs on hers and didn't always latch immediately, but there wasn't a thing about her that I would have changed.
My daughter may not have been what I prayed for during my pregnancy, but she was without a doubt the answer to my prayers.
Sleep deprivation stared back at me in the mirror. Between the time that I'm not sleeping, I do manage to study squeezing in for boards. My eyes stare at the flashcards on the little stand by the chair that I typically feed Quinn in. I can recite them off without thinking. But it was at the point where I had looked at them so much, I wasn't sure if I was retaining it beyond basic memorization. I'm more exhausted than I wanted to admit. I couldn't imagine going back to work as Jackson had.
Although I didn't get to actually physically be at the hospital and practicing medicine, between getting to hear the stories of cases that Jackson worked on and going through the details with him, and all of the flashcards that I poured through and created, it seemed like my brain was still managing to process just as much as it had been before. But I'm slow-moving. Taking a shower was enough to give me a little separation anxiety with Quinn and that was more often than not with Jackson already home and playing with our little girl.
Even if falling asleep seemed like a good option at just about any point in the day, it never does seem to come as easily as I want it to. I'm stressed. I've never been this stressed in my entire life – not through college or medical school, none of that compared to the fact that I was now entirely responsible for the care of a beautiful little girl and supposed to be getting my career on track. Dr. Bailey, Hunt, and Webber had all expressed their explicit faith in me when they had extended the attending offer to me before I had passed my boards. There was no way that I could let them down. I had to kill them, even if it felt more like it was just killing myself.
Taking care of her alone wasn't much different than having Jackson around. He did what he could with changing diapers and helping out at bath time, but feeding was the hardest part because of how often she had to do it. I was scared to give her the bottle. Latching was difficult enough on an easy day and I didn't want to completely ruin the progress that she had made by giving her a bottle instead of my nipple.
"Oh, honey, I thought you were sleeping."
Catherine's voice drew me out of my phase. I'd been sitting here folding the same onesie over and over again, ignoring the basket to the side of me that actually still needed to be folded.
"Hi," I gave a sleepy smile. "I tried and couldn't fall asleep. I keep thinking about my boards."
"You don't need to worry about that. I know how smart you. You'll be fine." She smiled at me reassuringly. It seemed so genuine that I almost want to blindly believe her and go take a nap until I needed to feed my daughter again.
"I hope that you're right." If I failed, then I had no idea what I would do. I'd be out of a job. As much as I adored Quinn, I didn't want to just be a mom. I loved what I did.
"Why don't you let me take care of this laundry, and you go lay down? I know that Quinn is the little queen of this household, but you can still get some rest now and then." The suggestion was kind as she sat down and placed her hand on top of mine, making sure that I didn't fold the same piece of clothing again.
"Queen might have been a more accurate name for little Quinnie," I chuckled.
Catherine laughed. "Queenie could be a cute one."
"Queenie?" I echoed the words with a raise of my eyebrows. "You know what? I actually kind of love that."
Following through with her advice to the best of my ability, I go to the bedroom to lay down for a while. Even if I'm in and out of sleep, never as deep as what would have been refreshing, just being able to stretch out my entire body without a husband or a baby in the same bed felt good.
One month left of maternity leave if I didn't extend it. But I wanted to. I would come back to work after I crushed my boards.
We were so lucky that the hospital had a daycare right there on site, able to drop her off without any extra stops before or after work, to come down and see her during lunch or between surgeries. That was something that could have been difficult – I knew that I was attached to her as could be and it was always the other way that people talked about being difficult. Quinn was so sweet. She didn't kick or lash out, and occasionally her reach wasn't perfect. Motor development was bound to be slow. She was on the end of the spectrum that had less fidgety movements than a neurotypical baby, as opposed to more. It made it easier to sit and study with her. She seemed to know what her mommy needed most.
"80-year-old man with a GCS of 15, admitted to ICU 3 hours following a fall from ground level. Bilateral proximal humerus fractures splinted. CT scans of the brain and cervical spine show a 1cm left frontal lobe intracerebral contusion and chronic degenerative changes to the cervical spine without acute fracture. The neurological assessment shows good motor strength and reflexes in the lower extremities. Motor strength in the upper extremities is difficult to assess due to the fractures, but the patient appears to have bilateral loss of fine motor movement in the fingers and weakness with wrist flexion and extension. Findings are most consistent with…"
Reading them out loud to her isn't common. Even if come of it isn't pretty or age-appropriate, it's not like she would remember. Talking to your baby was one of the most important things that you could do.
Queenie babbled at me mindlessly.
"Is that central cord syndrome?" I cooed at her, making a face with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. "Yes, yes it is. That's my smart little girl. It affects motor strength in the upper extremities more severely than the lower extremities and they frequently have spinal stenosis."
Covering her faces with kisses and raspberries, she giggled in delight though she barely squirmed in my arms. I rested my nose against the top of her forehead for a moment, breathing in that sweet baby smell. There was nothing else in the world like it. I could hold her in my arms and smell her just like that until the day that I died without a problem as long as she would stay this small and sweet.
"How about another one?" I asked her. "55-year-old male presents with a large midline incisional hernia after undergoing an exploratory laparotomy for trauma 15 years ago. He is increasingly symptomatic and desires repair. The defect measures 15 by 8 cm. You consent for an open bilateral component separation and mesh placement. During initial fascial incision, you find dense adhesions and 5 full thickness enterotomies are made incidentally. There is some spillage of succus, and full thickness repairs are performed successfully in each of these locations. How would you proceed at this point?"
"Bilateral component separation with biologic mesh." Jackson's voice came in out of the blue. "I've heard that card before."
"But you didn't answer all of it," I quipped with a smirk. "The problem with primary suture repair is suture line tension. Up to 10 cm of rectus fascia can be mobilized using this method, to allow for tension-free closure of midline tissue." I couldn't help but show off a little.
His eyes rolled.
"I'm just saying. I know you aren't a general or trauma surgeon, but it is still good to know."
"This is the cost I pay for coming home to the chief resident," he teased with a smile growing across his face as he walked across the room to Quinn and me. He bent down, kissing her on the head. "Hi there, sweetheart," he whispered just to her. "And hi, Mommy," he added as he kissed my cheek. "How was your day?"
"Good," I smiled up at him, nose scrunched up and bouncing our little girl slightly. "We got a lot of good studying in. Only one little moment of a feeding difficulty but we recovered. I think she's excited for bath time."
"We do love bath time," Jackson smiled.
"How was work?" I asked him, raising my eyebrows with the hope of a juicy story.
"Honestly, not that great," he admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. "All of the attendings are cracking down so much with the boards, you know, they just want to make sure that everything goes well for all of us. I spent today studying instead of operating. Not the most exciting day."
I laughed. "That's my every day with this little one."
"Well, maybe it would have been better if I was at home with the both of you," he suggested.
"Definitely."
"How about I get something made up for dinner?" Jackson offered. "We're leaving tomorrow night for San Francisco and I'm sure that you want some kind of homemade meal between now and then. I'm sure something that you didn't have to make yourself would be good."
"Yes, please!" I smiled and let out a small laugh. "Make anything. Literally, anything, I do not care one bit."
The fact that we were finally taking our boards wasn't lost upon me.
Four years of college, four more years of medical school and all of the rotations in hospitals that came with it, a year of being an intern followed by four years of being a resident here in Seattle – that was thirteen whole years of nothing but education and practice for the job that both of us wanted more than almost anything else in the world. Our entire lives had been building up to this moment and everything that would inevitably come after we did it. This was all the thirteen years meant, defined in one day, one test. It was the most important part of our careers thus far.
Yet, because of Quinn, all of that felt different.
When I had dreamed of taking the boards years ago, I wanted to go to San Francisco and embrace the city for the little time I was there, knowing that even if it was terrifying, passing my boards would be a wonderful memory. But I knew now I was going to be there for the shortest amount of time possible.
Generously, Dr. Bailey had offered to take care of Quinn herself. Catherine had wanted to but she would be in San Francisco with the both to us to administer boards. Jackson hated the idea of having his mother there and had nearly pleaded with her to try and get her to change her mind and take care of her granddaughter instead, but she was a rock. Once her mind was made up about something, there was no way that she was going to go back on that decision. She had just proved it one more time. Besides her, there was no one more that we could have trusted. Bailey was a good mother, the smartest and strongest women that either of us knew outside of his family. But she was also kind and compassionate like no one else beyond that. We were lucky that she was kind enough and cared enough to make the offer.
With Jackson cooking dinner, I take the time to breastfeed Quinn and get her down for a short nap before her bath. It'd give us the chance to talk and eat, hopefully without interruption. That was never a guarantee.
"How are you feeling about going to San Francisco tomorrow?" Jackson asked as I set the table while he finished up with the chicken and pasta that he was making.
"Nervous. So nervous." There was no point in lying about it. He would see right through it. "She's never had a night without me."
"It'll be good to ease her into it, you know," he suggested. "Because there might be some nights at work where you have to stay late, or overnight. At least this one is planned and we know exactly what we're doing. We trust Bailey." The reassurance was appreciated, but the fear was already settled deep in my stomach and going nowhere.
"I know we do." I sighed, sitting down. "I'm going to miss her."
"Me too." He agreed. "It's hard to work and know that the two of you are here at home without me."
"She still loves you just as much." I smiled in thanks as he served me. "You know that."
"You're her favorite." Jackson sat down with his own food.
"Just because I feed her." I rolled my eyes.
"It's impossible not to love those boobs."
"Oh, stop it!" I snorted before taking a bite of the pasta and chicken. It was delicious, alfredo sauce with some mushrooms and broccoli too. "My boobs are weird these days. So weird. I know this is their purpose or a big part of it, but it's weird."
He shook his head. "It's sexy."
"You'll say that no matter what if it means getting to suck up to me," I pointed out.
"Not true." He took a bite before continuing. "Come on. You're taking care of my little girl. And yeah, they're bigger, which just happens to be a bonus. What about that isn't sexy?"
I took a deep breath, trying and failing to be annoyed by his logic. "I bet she's going to miss them while we're gone. I hope that she's not too difficult for Bailey. I mean, I feel like nothing is for her, but my mind still goes there. I want things to be smooth but I know it'll probably be hard to get her to go from bottle to nipple once we're back."
"Say that and I might not think she's mine." Jackson teased. My eyes narrowed slightly.
"That's not funny. I'm being serious." I huffed.
"I know, strawberry," he softened as he reached across the table for my hand. I let him take mine but I don't return the hold. "And I know your tendency to worry and to want everything to be perfect. But I think, right now, it would be good for you to take a step back and look at the big picture. It's one night at a hotel, then most of the day. You're setting yourself up for your career so you can support her and take care of her so that you're able to give her a strong role model. That's huge. That's something you want to do. Focus on that positive. That's the part that matters more than anything else right now."
Chewing at the inside of my cheek, I broke eye contact and stared just past him. He was right. He always was when he had to talk me down like this even if there was some dumb instinct inside of me to initially reject what he said. I was too stubborn for my own good sometimes.
"I'll try." I could promise that and nothing more. "I will. It's just so hard."
"Didn't say that it would be easy." His smile turned sympathetic with the words. "It won't be. But you know that you can do anything. That's just who you are."
No matter how much I dread it, though, the moment comes.
Quinn doesn't like it any more than I do.
Wailing filled the corridor of the ambulance bay where the bus was waiting to take the seven of us to the airport. She was fed and burped with a clean new diaper, and we had probably given Bailey too many bottles of breastmilk given how she ate. Better to have way too much than not enough. But Quinn didn't care how prepared Bailey was to take care of her for a night. Every time I tried to pass her over to the older woman, it just resulted in another round of screaming. She wouldn't even go to Jackson. Leaving my arms seemed to be the end of the world for her. With the agonizing sound of her crying, letting go of her was starting to sound like the end of the world for me, too.
"It's okay, baby girl. It's okay." I tried to soothe her, holding her snuggly and bouncing at my knees. The more I had to do this, the more that I wanted to cry. Maybe she could sense that. "It's barely over twenty-four hours. It'll be okay. I promise."
Words don't convince the inconsolable baby. She continued to cry like she was in pain.
"April..." Jackson sighed out gently, his hand on my upper back and rubbing it gently. "You have to let go. It's just a day and you don't want to deal with the rest of them harassing you about missing our flight."
Well, he was right about that. Peer pressure was powerful.
"Okay." I placed a long kiss on our daughter's forehead and took a deep breath to try and keep myself calm. "It's just a day, Queenie. Just one. Bailey is the best. I promise. You're not going to want to leave her once we're back. It'll be so good." I tried to convince her as I passed her into one of my mentor's waiting arms.
"Quinn and I will be fine, April." Bailey rarely used my first name but she seemed to soften instantly upon holding our little one. "Oh, yes we will."
"Come on, berry." Jackson eased me toward the bus. "Let's go."
With one last longing look at my daughter, I get on the bus behind my husband.
The bus ride to the airport isn't a particularly long one with everyone chattering back and forth. I hadn't been around all of us as a group since before Quinn was born and I feel a little out of place, falling into the background among them. It seemed like Jackson had taken over my duties as chief resident while I had been on maternity leave. I hoped it was because he had earned it and just because it was assumed that he would as my husband.
The flight from Seattle to San Francisco felt impossibly long, even if I knew that it was barely over two hours. There was barely time for the flight attendants to make their way up and down the aisles to take drink orders and it feels familiar that Meredith and Cristina would both order an overpriced drink even on such a short flight. A glass of wine sounded tempting but I knew that by the time we were on the ground again, I would have to pump – I might not even make it back to the hotel in order to do some with a little more privacy than just an airport bathroom. For almost the entire flight, my left legged bounced up and down, rubbing against the side of the airplane in my window seat.
It was much quicker to get from the airport in San Francisco to the hotel that we were staying at, currently flooded with hundreds or thousands of surgical residents in the last years that were determined to make a name for themselves. But twenty percent of the people here were likely to fail. And it was all too possible that would include one of us.
Given that I hadn't been actively working the last three months, all signs pointed toward me.
"Oh, no no no…" The mumbling under my breath doesn't take long to begin.
Panic attacks were something that I was familiar with over the course of my life. The utter, complete sense of dread that took over any and all forms of logic, the tightness in my chest that made every beat of my heart feel impossibly large like it might explode out of my chest cavity at any given moment. The shaking that I couldn't stop, the burning of tears in my eyes and frog in my throat no matter how I tried to hide it from the public. It was right there, lingering on the surface.
"April?" Izzie's soft voice isn't enough to reign in the panic seated on the edge, but it does at least give a momentary distraction from the worst of it.
Despite it, I can't bring myself to offer her any kind of verbal answer.
"Hey," she started again softly. "Whatever you're feeling right now, it's okay. Today's a huge day. We're all nervous. Some of us are just better at dealing with it than others. Or some of us just use alcohol to hide it. Either way, we all feel the same way deep down. Even Alex and Cristina."
"That's hard to believe." Especially Cristina. She was the smartest of all of us.
"Yeah, it is," she gave a soft laugh and nod of her head. "Yet somehow, it's still the truth. It's the biggest day of our lives for all of us tomorrow. Well, sort of. I guess nothing's as big as having your baby girl."
"Yeah." Whom I missed more than anything. There was a part of me that wanted nothing more than to get the quickest flight back home and spend the night with her, even knowing the huge importance of everything that would be done tomorrow. I had my career to solidify, for her. But I still wanted to be with her.
A beat passed before the blonde addressed me again. "Can I tell you something?"
"Sure."
"I have a daughter." There was a pregnant pause after the clear statement is made. "When I was really young, in high school. I was stupid and I got pregnant. I gave her up because I knew that there was no way I could be the kind of parent that she deserved to have. I guess I'm a sap, but it makes me really happy to see you and Jackson doing what you're doing. Especially him. I know you knew him when he was young, but he was kind of a mess when he first started here." A light-hearted laugh left her lips.
"I believe that," I chuckled, a smile finally managing to break across my cheeks. My chest was still impossibly tight but the tears aren't there in the same way. "You're a really good mom, Izzie. To her and to whatever future babies may come your way. For now, you're a really great aunt."
"I am happy to be a great aunt to your little cutie." Izzie leaned toward me, wrapping her arms around my shoulder and giving me half of a hug. "And thank you."
Jackson and I get to share a room unlike any of the other residents since we were married, which was a relief. There was no way that I would have been able to fall asleep without him. It's hard enough to fall asleep without Quinn in the same building as me. Pumping isn't the same as feeding her myself because I don't get to hold her in my arms and burp her, sing her to sleep and watch that goofy little face that she always made whenever she fell asleep. Even though most of the time when she was awake now, her tongue is in her mouth, it always made its way back out as she slept.
As if tomorrow wasn't one of the most important days of our lives, there was the familiar snoring behind my ear that indicated Jackson was out like a light in no time. It seemed like he didn't mind having a peaceful night of sleep.
Despite the fact that there was all the stress in the world, the boards don't go as bad as I expect.
By the time that we were on the plane ride home to San Francisco, none of us know our results. I'd come out of the room sweaty with nerves and breasts just beginning to leak from their fullness, launching myself into the bathroom to take care of myself and catching Reed on the other end of throwing up before forcing herself back into her own exam room. I wasn't the only one who had been a complete mess. Yet I pass out on the short plane ride home without any kind of certainty, finally able to will myself to sleep.
The rough landing wakes me back up. All seven of us take the bus straight to the hospital again. There's a constant checking of phones, but I can't bring myself to do so. Once one of us got our results, it was likely that all of us would – I could check it then. Right now, the only thing that I wanted to do was see my precious little girl.
Jackson was on my heels as I made my way to the daycare where Bailey had texted me that she had dropped her off this morning without too many crying complications. That seemed like a good thing to me. When I get there, one of the workers was holding and burping her.
"Hi, my sweet little angel!" I cooed as I reached out for her.
The daycare worker doesn't hesitate to hand her over to me with a soft smile.
Breathing in that sweet scent, I hold her firmly against my chest and kiss the top of her head as I snuggled her against my chest, swaying side to side. She spits up on my shoulder and hair, and I couldn't have cared less about it. One night without her at this age was one night too many. There was no way that I was going to be able to do anything like that again any time soon. The first time had been hard enough and I couldn't imagine that the second would be any easier – I didn't care what exposure therapy said.
"Oh, Momma missed you so much," I sing to her with a relaxed smile taking over my features. "Did you miss me? Because I missed you so much, Queenie. You're my little girl."
"How was she?" Jackson asked the daycare worker, his hand finding the back of my shoulder and thumb rubbing circles.
"I think that she did good," Angela replied with a smile. "We did have a bit of a hard time getting her to feed earlier, but she came around to it eventually, as you can probably see now. It took her a bit to begin to warm up to us."
"Sounds about right," he commented with a nod of his head and glance over at the two of us. "We'll have to thank Bailey again."
"Of course," I agreed quickly. "We couldn't have done this without her."
It wouldn't be hard to find Dr. Bailey or any of the other attendings. Even though a huge portion of this day was about us and our hopeful success, it was also a reflection on them. The best programs had successful interns and this was still supposed to be one of the best programs in the country, even after the merger had initially knocked it down a few pegs. Our success looked good on them in the same way that it did well for us. They just didn't have to pen their entire career on today as we did.
I hoped that Dr. Hunt would be proud of me.
Trauma surgery was still a great love of mine, even if I had gotten the other important love of my life lined up with Jackson and Quinn. Passing the boards would just mean that I had finally gotten every single thing that I had wanted, that I had checked off all of the goals that I had for myself since I was a little girl. In a way, I would be complete.
Opting to carry Quinn on my hip and keeping her sleepy head resting on my shoulder as the two of us made our way through the hospital hallway, we catch Dr. Bailey and Dr. Webber talking to each other.
"One of them failed." Dr. Webber told her gravely.
"What?" She questioned sharply. "Who?"
"We don't know yet." He answered.
I stopped in my place with wide eyes. Oh god. I had known that it was a real possibility that one of us was going to fail, but that felt like some kind of huge confirmation that it was going to be me. Who else could it have possibly been? Even if everyone had really been nervous ahead of time, there had been no one after having a mental breakdown on the plane or in tears. Everyone had seemed relieved that it was over and excited for the results, not terrified.
"Jackson–" I barely got the chance to dress him before Dr. Bailey noticed the two of us were there.
"Avery. Avery." Bailey addressed both of us, softening just a bit upon seeing our daughter. "And my now preferred Avery. What are the two of you doing here?"
"We just wanted to thank you again, for watching her last night," I spoke up quickly and forced a smile on my face, not wanting to make it obvious that I had overheard what they were saying. It probably wasn't meant to be public information. There was no way that it was. Yet I wasn't going to be able to keep my mouth shut about it, I knew that too. "It means a lot."
"Of course." A genuine smile stretched across her features. "I'm happy to help."
"We've really got to get going though, right, Jackson?" I looked up at him with wide eyes.
"Yeah.." There's a hint of confusion in his voice that I hoped she wouldn't pick up on it. If she does, she doesn't say anything about it. "Thank you again, Dr. Bailey."
Rushing my feet down the hallway as quickly as I can get them to go, I give a few paranoid glances back over my shoulder to make sure that there was an appropriately large amount of difference between us and two of our bosses. I couldn't believe what I had heard. It made perfect, logical sense given everything that we knew about the odds and that we had seven surgical residents flown down there to take it. Yet hearing the words confirmed by Dr. Webber… there was something utterly chilling about really knowing that.
"Did you hear what he said?" I finally snipped out to him with wide eyes. "Someone failed!"
"Yeah, I heard," Jackson replied grimly, a tight sigh escaping him. He continued to walk and I blinked in surprise for a moment before moving my feet to catch up with him.
"Someone failed, Jackson!" I repeated myself as if he hadn't heard it from Webber or myself.
"I know." He was eerily calm.
"Why are you so relaxed about this?" My brows furrowed and I secured my hand on Quinn's back. "It's probably me. I'm the only one here who could have failed. I can't believe it. They even offered me a job, they were so kind and they believed in me so much and I just went and let them down. I am the reason that people stereotype against mothers with babies because I could not keep my crap together. I am a disappointment. To them and to women all across the world. I can't believe it." Hysterics slip through my lips before I have a chance to even begin to think about it, tears burning in my eyes.
This time, he does stop walking in the middle of the hallway, turning to face me and holding me with both hands.
"April. April. Take a breath, okay? He said someone failed. He did not say that you failed. In case you've forgotten, there are six other options on the table here." He rationalized.
"But those six other options haven't spent the last three months at home raising a baby. They have all spent the last three months working at the hospital and getting all of the cool cases to beef up their repertoire and make sure that they are prepared for any question thrown their way." I shook my head, looking up to try and keep the tears from falling. "I failed, Jackson."
"Don't say that until you know the truth." He squeezed my shoulders. "It could have just as easily been any one of us. I refuse to believe that it's you. We've got our lives together now, remember? We've done it all. We got married, we had an awesome kid. Now we're killing our boards. We've got the entire rest of our lives right here, right now. There's nothing that's going to change that. I promise."
Every piece of me was desperate to believe his words were the truth. I didn't want to fail.
"Fine." I took a deep breath, rubbing Quinn's back as if it would calm me down. Truthfully, I just didn't want her to sense the way that I was feeling and end up wailing in the middle of the hospital hallway. That would have been the thing to push me past my breaking point. "I won't say anything about it until we know."
Except for the moment that we reach our group of friends, I blurt out exactly what Webber had said.
But I try to keep true to the core of what I had told him. I don't allow myself to participate in the conversation that bounced back and forth between Cristina, Meredith, Alex, Izzie, and Reed. The way that they were talking made it very clear that they all thought it had to be me, too, even if none of them want to say it while I'm holding my sleeping daughter in my arms.
Quinn was currently the only thing managing to keep me calm. she had to stay happy and sleepy, and I had read all about how your baby was intuitive with your mood. There were still nerves eating me alive every moment, but I keep my face as a deadpan to prevent them from overflowing. I can't tune out everything that was being said in front of me, but I can prevent myself from contributing. That was about all that I could do now.
"Hey, I got the email!" Cristina announced after one of many refreshes on her phone, only a second plains before she enthusiastically announced her own results. "I passed!"
"Me too!" Meredith replied a moment later, high-fiving Cristina.
Giving a brief glance up at Jackson, he was already looking through his email as I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and unlocked it, seeing the red notification that was waiting for me. I watched the huge smile break across Jackson's face at the same time that Alex announced that he had passed the boards too. Forcing my gaze down on my phone, I tapped on the email that held my fate.
"I…" I could barely get the words out. "I passed!" I squealed, barely able to contain my excitement.
With wide eyes, I looked up at the group, quickly trying to figure out where the oddball was.
"I failed." Reed was the one to announce it.
For a long, selfish moment, I was glad that it wasn't Izzie or me.