"Fulbright scholarships for developing countries, no... Scholarship for minorities, for medical professionals... Oh, International Guest Scholarship. Opportunity to attend research events, college courses, and a lump sum of ten thousand dollars. That's it! Details... Applicants from outside the U.S. and Canada. Really? Why can't a Native American get a grant from any university in their own country?" Logan couldn't stop being indignant as he tried to find a single suitable program. He'd been browsing so intently that he hadn't stood up once in the last few hours.
A slight pain on his back did distract him, though. Logan stretched a little and headed for his briefcase – the only thing unpacked from the day he'd left. It was in it that such an important value for him lay – a certificate of secondary education. Running his eyes over the lines, Logan stopped at the most unpleasant of them all: "GPA: 3.6."
Before moving to Palm Woods, Logan had been an excellent student and was tacitly considered one of the smartest guys in the whole school, which made the grades from Los Angeles hurt him. And it was not because of absent-mindedness, misunderstanding of subjects or simply laziness. No, with constant rehearsals and performances, there was simply no time to study.
And how many Olympiads he used to take part in? It's impossible to remember all of them. Though... Logan abruptly interrupted his train of thought and headed for one of the drawers.
He vigorously opened a thick folder with all the diplomas he had kept since elementary school. As he leafed through the seemingly simple printouts, Logan shuddered every time he looked at them. Warm memories of his time in Minnesota flashed through his mind.
A feeling of nostalgia came over him and spread a pleasant warmth throughout his body. Logan lay down and began to remember his childhood, hockey games, high school hangouts with the three people still closest to him at the time. But he deliberately blocked out all thoughts of the group, because that was when the problems started. The fights became more frequent, and most importantly, Logan retreated from his life's goal: medicine.
In junior high school, he won prizes, his projects were part of major exhibitions. But what about Palm Woods High School? "Is there enough energy in a watermelon to make toast?" For something like that, even a C+ was a gift! For James, Carlos, and Kendall, a C+ was quite an accomplishment, but Logan had dreamed of going to college with perfect grades from an early age.
Logan didn't want to go back to depressing thoughts, and luckily for him, the doorbell rang.
"Coming... Carlos, buddy!"
"Hey, Logan," the panting boy said, and gave his buddy a quick hug before collapsing onto the bed.
"Why are you so tired? Catch your breath, and I'll get you some lunch."
"Lunch?" Carlos grinned. "Look at the clock, it's nine! And I ate on my break, so don't worry."
"Yeah, I'm late... Break? You got a job?"
"Yes, I'm a waiter now," Carlos said proudly, sprawled out on the bed. "I'm getting a lot of customers, but I'm getting more tips. The pay is good, too, so we're not going to lose out."
"Good for you," Logan exclaimed, patting Carlos on the shoulder he didn't seem to feel. "Did you tell them about me?"
"I did, but they wouldn't take you without seeing you in person. They've already picked me and another guy today. I'm sorry."
"No, no, that's good. On the contrary. I found a part-time job at another place, but not as a waiter," Logan said with some intrigue, and then looked down at his friend.
"Wow, and?" Carlos' eyes shined, and he even stood up. "Don't drag it out!"
"I'm not sure it's going to work out. The interview isn't until tomorrow. Why don't we keep it a mystery for now?" Logan suggested, and despite Carlos' feigned resentment, he didn't say anything. On another day Carlos would have interrogated Logan, but now he could barely keep his eyes open.
"There's no point in overloading you right now, and you're overloaded without me. To be honest, I wasn't expecting guests. I hadn't even made the bed..."
"Sorry, it was closer to your place from work," Carlos said, embarrassed. In fact, Garcia's apartment was only a few blocks away, so the reason was different. Carlos still felt the loneliness. An oppressive, unbearable loneliness, a foreboding sense of impending doom. Being with other people made him forget his problems for a while. He abstracted himself from anxiety, worry and everything that he didn't even fully understand the reasons for.
"Don't worry, I'm always happy to see you, I just have a long day of work to do on my laptop. Why don't I go to the kitchen so I don't bother you?"
"I sleep like a log, don't worry. And your tapping on the keys is like a lullaby to me." Carlos smiled. He wanted to add something else, but instead he yawned involuntarily.
Logan grinned back, and then he tucked his friend in and headed for the computer. His thoughts about school, however, didn't want to leave him, so he wasn't looking for anything else. However, no matter what grades he received then, it ceased to matter much. Logan just fondly recalled the moments when he and the guys raced to Mrs. Knight's house. And also how James's mother later scolded her son for wearing out his shoes and he had to borrow Kendall's. And how Mrs. Garcia gave them the warmest knitted sweaters in the world, for which Logan was ready to teach Carlos any lesson, even literature.
Childhood... It always seemed to be something bright, pleasant, carefree. You forgot all your old problems, because compared to the present, they seemed just a trifle. And was it so bad sometimes to move, mentally, at least, to that wonderful time?
Without answering his rhetorical question, Logan glanced at Carlos again and saw that he was sound asleep. He smiled and lay down on the bed as well, drifting first into reverie and then into dreams. Thankfully, the night passed without nightmares or even much sleep-talking. It was only toward morning that Logan repeated "Cami" indistinctly but quietly and blissfully.