Brookside Academy

13 - Favors

After Ben's weird behavior on Monday, I retreat to my room to keep working on my college applications. I feel like my life recently is just the same day repeated over and over, and I seriously cannot wait to graduate. Like, I'm not sure how many times I can edit my personal statement before the words start meshing together.

I'm having the most difficulty writing my "Why Yale" essay, to be completely honest. It's hard to write authentically when my entire reason why Yale is because I have no other choice. My parents may not be involved in my life, but they'll damn sure be involved if I'm rejected from their alma mater.

So, I keep writing, forcing exactly what they want to hear on the page, my heart clenching with every keystroke. As my mind wanders, I wonder: When was the last decision I made for myself?

•••

"Miss Carmichael!" I hear my name being called before I register the person it's attached to. Dr. Hammond. As in, my first period English teacher. As in, the man whose class I just fell asleep in. Fuck.

It's Thursday morning, and I had been up until 4 in the morning getting assignments done, as well as mentally choreographing my audition cut for The Nutcracker. Of course, Hammond knows none of this, and silently points a stern finger outside of the building, in the direction of the administration hall.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ben stifling a laugh. Let's make this morning even worse than it already is, huh?

I quickly gather my things and turn on my heel out of the room, ready to trek across campus to the front office. I've never been in there for anything remotely wrong, so this should be an interesting conversation. To prolong my walk of shame into the Headmaster's office, I decide to check my phone, when a text pops up:

8:02 a.m.

Bennett: Gotta be honest, Carmichael. Didn't see the juvenile delinquent thing working for you.

Emerson: you would know, wouldn't you?

Bennett: Touché.
Bennett: Find Will in the office, he aids first period.

Emerson: i find it hard to believe the secretaries wanted william huntington managing confidential school records...how the hell did he manage that

Bennett: How do you think?

I roll my eyes at that. Ben and Will have two things on their side, and two things in far more abundance than anyone actually needs: Money and charm. One, the other, or a combination of the two would get that ring-wearing skater boy behind the desk real quick.

When I make it to the front office, I open the heavy door, expecting to find dark clouds and foreboding music, or something to that effect. Instead, it's the same gray walls and wood desks I've always found in here. Still, I feel as though I'm going to throw up the smoothie I had for breakfast, so I sit down and wait for a secretary to come in and send me to my fate.

"No way. I thought Ben was making it up. You're seriously in here?"

"Will!" I exclaim, only half shocked that Bennett was telling the truth about his best friend's student aiding.

He looks around and seems to make a decision. "C'mere," he whispers, pushing hair out of his eyes, "I can make it all go away. I'll just take it off the appointment schedule."

I gasp. "Isn't that breaking like, a lot of rules?"

"Nearly all of them, to be exact. Plus some that haven't been invented yet. I'm just that good."

Rolling my eyes, I mutter, "Pretty sure that is the opposite of good."

"Potato, po-tah-to. Now, Emmy, I've got like 3 minutes before Lori is back from her breakfast. Am I doing this or not?"