How You Get the Girl

I Guess I Don't Get to Have a Senior Slide

"What do you mean I need a computer science class to graduate?" I asked Ms. Hamilton, the assistant principal, trying to keep the outrage out of my voice. It was the first day of the second semester of my senior year. I showed up to homeroom, latte in hand, ready to start my senior slide. I had gotten into college early decision and now all I had to do was graduate, which was apparently in doubt. When I had arrived in homeroom, my teacher had told me I needed to go down to the office talk to the assistant principal about an "urgent matter." My heart had dropped. Needing to talk to the assistant principal was always a bad sign.

What had I done? I thought my grades were fine. Mostly Bs with As in English and art class, and, predictably, a C in math. I was terrible at math but had managed to claw my way to a C due to a really good math tutor and, I was pretty sure, a great deal of pity on my teacher's part.

I looked pleadingly at the assistant principal, Ms. Hamilton and said, "I thought the computer animation class I took this fall met that requirement. My homeroom teacher told me it did last spring when we met to make sure I had registered to take all the classes I needed to graduate."

"It used to, but we moved that class to the art department this year," Ms. Hamilton said with a falsely sympathetic look. She had never liked me. I could tell she did not really care that I was bad spot. "But Mrs. Prescott is retiring and she has gotten a bit vague about things. We just caught the fact that you were short of your required computer class for graduation. The good news is we can fix it now so you don't have to do summer school!"

I hate this school, I thought. Which would have surprised most people at Westbrook High School. I was the vice president of the student council and an editor of the yearbook. I should have been exactly the kind of kid who loved high school and never wanted it to end but I was ready to escape. I lived in a posh suburb full of kids who had gotten new cars for their sixteenth birthdays and always had the latest clothes and the most recent iPhone. They all planned to go to the right college so that they could become exactly like their parents when the graduated. They would move right back here to luxurious suburbia, buy a BMW or a Mercedes, live in a huge house and spend the rest of their lives playing golf and tennis at the country club. I had no intention of doing any of that, but middle school and high school were unforgiving to those who stood out and my parents would have killed me if I had embarrassed them in front of their friends. So, I had done my best to fit in. I just had to fake it for one more semester, I reminded myself, and then I was out of this place. And now I had to take a computer class or I would not graduate? I would just have to suck it up and do it. Otherwise, my college would revoke my acceptance and college was my chance to get far away from this place. I would do just about anything to get away from Westbrook.

"What do I need to do to graduate in June?" I asked Ms. Hamilton.

"You need to take Computer Game Design," she told me. "It's the only computer class offered this semester.  Normally there is a prerequisite but I'm willing to wave it so that you can graduate on time."

I looked at her in horror. Not only was I going to have to take a computer class but it was an advanced one? Kill me now.

And then, nightmare that she was, she went on, "You know, if you had checked in with me more regularly about your classes we could have avoided this."

Yes, I thought but you hate me, so why would I talk to you? My two older sisters had been hell on wheels in high school and a lot of the teachers assumed I was too, especially Ms. Hamilton. Ever since I was a freshman Ms. Hamilton had gone out of her way to try to make life difficult for me. When other students got caught texting in class they got a warning. When I got caught texting in class my parents had to come pick up my phone from her. When most students were late to class they got a warning. When I was late to class I got a detention. I really hated her. So, instead of answering, I just smiled. She would never give me a break. I would just have to take the class and pray I could pass.

"I guess I'll take Computer Game Design," I said.

"Are you sure Harper?" Ms. Hamilton said with false concern. "this is an advanced computer class. You are going to need to work hard, especially given your past problems in academic classes." I glared at her, I was fine in all my classes except math but she always saw the worst in me. As far as she was concerned I was a party girl who did not care about grades or doing school work. Which was funny because I was about as far from that as a person could be. "It might be better if you took a computer class during summer school instead."

And have my college take away my acceptance because I did not graduate on time? I thought. No thanks. But instead, I said, "I'll be okay. I'll go in for extra help and work hard. I'm sure I can pass."

"The class meets block 3 in room 214," Ms. Hamilton called after me.

The urge to say something nasty to Ms. Hamilton was almost overwhelming but I did not want to get detention so I just bit my tongue and walked out of her office. I could do this. I had to do this. God, please help me do this, I thought. If I didn't manage to do this I could kiss going to the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD) next year goodbye. It was one of the best art schools in the country. Ever since I was little I had loved to draw and paint. If I had a pencil or pen in my hand I was drawing. My school notebooks had more doodles and sketches in them than class notes. I had wanted to go to art school since 8th grade when I had realized you could study art in college. Once I got to art school I was sure I could figure out who I really was when I was not trying to be what my mother and my friends wanted me to be. I could not wait. It would be goodbye Kate Spade and Lululemon, and hello, . . . what? I wasn't totally sure but I was really excited to find out. Now all I had to do was pass Computer Game Design. How hard could it be?

. . .

My first two classes of the day were English and Social Studies. Both subjects I liked. Then came block 3, Computer Game Design, aka Hell on Earth.

I walked into the classroom. It was an airy room with high ceilings and a wall of windows looking out onto the sports fields. At my rich suburban school, we all had our own laptops, not that most of my classmates ever noticed that that was unusual. There were only sixteen kids in the class which was a small class even for our school. I took a seat at one of the two-person tables toward the back. The room slowly filled up. I looked around, getting more worried with every second. It was almost all boys, and not just any boys, the smartest, nerdiest boys in the school, not my crowd at all. Normally, I could have lived with that. I had gotten elected to the student council because I was nice to people. I tried not to be one of the mean girls. No, the real problem with who was in the class was that I had no friends in it. That meant there was no one I could ask for help. I kind of knew the one other girl, Kenzie. She had been in a few of my art classes. We had talked a few times, but she was a junior, so we were not close. I knew none of the boys. I was dead if I needed help in this class.

Kenzie was sitting closer to the front talking with a guy I knew was a junior but I could not remember his name. At least half of the boys in the room had to be freshmen, they looked so young. They were pushing and shoving each other and generally acting out of control. Right now, it sounded like a bunch of them were bickering about a fantasy football league. At the table next to me was a dark hard guy I vaguely remembered from my English class last year. He had to be a senior like me. I tried to remember his name. Ben, I thought, but I could not be sure. I don't think he had spoken once in class all year. Now I selfishly wished I had tried to get to know him in English last year. It would be nice to have one senior in this class that I knew. Served me right for ignoring the quiet kid, I thought.