No Turning Back

Things Can't Get Any Worse, Can They?

"I'm home," I greeted into the empty house as I walked through the front door. While a part of me was thrilled that no one was home, another part of me wished that someone were there. After my terrible first day, I actually wouldn't mind hearing about someone else's day or talking about my own; anything to help me relax and take my mind off of school. But then again, maybe I wasn't in the mood to talk. I mean, I basically talked all afternoon.

After 8th period, I had to stay after school for a student council meeting. It was a long meeting with the principal about how we were going to go about with our annual beginning of the school year pep rally. Usually, the president made a speech about how much fun the year was going to be and how we were all a big happy family. All of that is bull, I know but I had to do what the job entitled me to do. So, that meant I had to spew High School Musical quotes and maybe break a few dance moves just to please the principal. I guess I didn't mind too much though. I bet the school would enjoy a humorous speech this year. All of the other presidents before me were a bit boring in their speaking skills but always had great events. I want to be the president that has awesome speeches and even more awesome school events. But of course, that was going to take a whole lot of work.

Once, I finally got out of the meeting, I had to take Ashley to her dancing school which was only a couple blocks away from the school. Then, I had to pick little Zac up from his school center and take him to his little sport camp thing. That took me the longest since I basically drove all around town. But now, I can finally just lie down and relax. I didn't even bother wondering where my parents were as I wandered up the stairs to my room. They were every barely home anyway. They were always working.

I flopped down onto my bed, kicking my shoes off as I did so. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I felt tempted to just fall asleep right then and there. But I knew I couldn't do that. My mom would come in the door later with a whole list of premeditated questions that she would ask about my day. She does that with Ashley as well but that conversation usually doesn't last long due to my sister's short answers. There was also no doubt that my dad would want to question me about what I found in the mail when I came in - just as he had been doing ever since I completed my applications. Luckily for me, there were no envelopes stamped with a college logo. Just bills and a few catalogs for the girls. The usual as I call it. I knew that dad wouldn't like the usual though. He wanted to see one of those big envelopes. I'm not sure why he was so pumped over it though. I mean, I was the one going to college and I wasn't even that stressed over it. I knew that I should get into at least one of the schools I applied to. I actually managed to convince my mom to let me apply to good colleges under Ivy League such as Duke, UCLA, Stanford and some other colleges. With my overly high GPA, close to perfect SAT scores, and abundance of school activities, I should get into one of them. But dad always worries. That's what he always does. Sometimes I swear he stresses more about me and my life than his own which can get annoying sometimes. But I knew that I did have one school on my mind. One school that I was praying to God that I would get into. That one school where I would actually be happy.

X

"Do you think I should dye my hair pink," Melanie asked as we walked down the school hallway the next morning. I had been zoned out, merely walking down the hallway like a zombie. The night before had been pretty busy. My parents practically bombarded me with questions about my day and about college since my father took the dignity to call Columbia and see if they had reviewed my application. Apparently, they did and they told him that I should be receiving something in the mail soon regarding their decision. So, my parents - more my dad I should say - were going crazy. My dad was practically picturing me in a Columbia sweatshirt with my jersey number on the back of it. I'm surprised he didn't already buy a ticket for us to go up there and visit again.