Bad A** (UNEDITIED RAW VERSION)

Part One: June-1

“Riley,” Mr. Graceson barked and I snapped my head up from my doodles, “Can you answer my question?”

I took a quick glance at the white board and took in the long list written in blue marker. The words that stood up the most were Summer Assignments, Schedule, and Time management.

“Procrastination,” I smiled. He rubbed his chin for a few seconds and I held my breath. He nodded at me and turned his gaze back to the board. That was a close one.

I am a self-confessed nerd and I normally am the only person paying attention. However, today is the last day of school and I am looking forward to a summer full of filling out college applications, writing my essay(s), and completing my summer assignments. I also plan to procrastinate a lot.

“Oh, and Riley,” I looked back up to Mr. Graceson, “I would like to have a word with you after class.”

Oh, joy. I looked at the clock to see we only had five minutes of school left, I could wait that long to find out what he wants right?

2:01.

2:02

2:03

2:04

2:05

Riiiiiiiiiiing.

I watched as the whole class moved like a river through the door and to their freedom. Taking a deep breath, I slowly walked over to Mr. Graceson’s desk. He had his face deep in a paper and then he suddenly looked up, a scowl on his face. I hope that paper wasn’t mine. He wiped away the twists in his face and removed his glasses.

“Riley, what do you plan on doing this summer?” He asked, looking up at me.

“Fill out my college applications?” I glanced over to the clock. It’s summer, is there a rule that he can’t keep me here?

“You are not planning to do volunteer work, go to a seminar, or even some sort of forum?” He shook his head and cusped his fist on his desk. “Colleges love to see you get involved, you know that right?”

“Yes,” I nodded my head vigorously, “That is why I am on Track and Field, president of the poetry club, Junior officer of drama club, Secretary for the class of 2012, Vice president next year, member of the school branch of-“

He shook his head and grumbled. He waved his hand, signaling me to stop.

“I realize you are in all of those school activities, and that is great,” He placed his hands back onto the desk, palms down, “But colleges want to see what you do out of school. If you laze around all summer they will think badly of you. It’s competitive now-a-days”

“So,” I cut in, “You want me to get a summer job or an Internship?”

“No,” He fiddled through some folders on his desk and pulled out a crisp manila folder, “I think you should do something better then that. You want something to stand out on your application.” He handed me the folder, “In there is information about a summer camp, a very special one that will guarantee you a spot at Dartmouth or any college you want. It’s for students of special skill and its run by the government. I know you don’t have a lot of money and that is okay because it is all free.”

“So, what special skill should I try out for?” I asked as I slid the folder into my bag.

“You don’t need to,” He picked back up the essay, “They already nominated you because of your language skills. Just fill out the application and they will bring you there.”

He picked back up his pen and resumed grading. I took that as my cue to leave and began walking home.

I guess my language skills could be counted as a special skill. I speak English, German, Russian, Latin, Greek, Yiddish, Arabic, Spanish, French, Italian, Swahili, and Portuguese fluently. But what kind of camp desired that? I thought camp was outdoorsy, like football Camp, soccer Camp, even band Camp.