THE WILD SEASON

Chapter 8

The next morning, I iron my dad's shirt with care. I scramble his eggs and pour his coffee. Leave heating instructions on the lasagna in the freezer because Anna and I are going to celebrate after the test, and I may not be home by dinner. I'm checking boxes as the minutes tick by. Rehearsals have come and gone, but that's okay, because I've planned every moment of this day.

Kiss on my father's cheek, mug pushed between his hands.

Door closed to my room as I pull on my favorite pair of jeans. Cut the tags off the Penn hoodie purchased for this very moment. Gather my hair into a ponytail, sweep dark liner around my eyes, and apply red lipstick because today...I am a woman who makes things happen.

I work through fifteen minutes of SAT prep questions the same way I take practice laps across a pool. Stretching my muscles, pantomiming actual exertion. I turn off my phone, screen down on the nightstand. I make my bed with militaristic precision. And then I juggle, with actual juggling balls, to practice focusing, to practice breathing, and to remind myself that I'm still me.

When at last my dad knocks on the door, ninety minutes before show time, I am ready.

I hang on for a long time when he hugs me, but I can't look him in the eyes when he says, "This is it, Moon Pie. The first day of the rest of your life. Go and show that test who's boss."

He kisses my forehead then, and my knees grow weak. I lock my legs, and when

he pulls back to gauge how I'm feeling, I say with an electric smile, "I'm going to make you proud."

The words slip out. An unscripted part of this play. Maybe I say them because I'm hoping he'll reply with, 'Oh, baby. I already am proud.' Or that he'll add, 'You do this for you, not for me. Okay?'

But instead, my dad releases a long, nervous breath and says, "I'm glad one of us has nerves of steel!" He laughs and shakes my shoulders. "I'll be at the Highlands house overseeing the install," he continues, as if he hasn't told me this every day for a week. "I've got my cell."

He releases me, and backs away as if I'm explosive. I keep the smile painted on my face, waving as he climbs in his truck and backs out of the driveway. He pauses for a moment before putting the vehicle into drive. Locks those soft, eager eyes on me and gives one last wave of his hand.

Then he drives away, leaving every hope he has left in this world attached to me like a thousand wooden clothespins.

***

It's strange being at school on a Saturday for anything other than a swim meet. The parking lot is eerily empty except for the kids who have come to take the test, and the administrators overseeing it.

I make my way to the classroom with ear buds in place, my phone blasting a playlist created by Anna and my other friends. They each chose three songs and titled the playlist Champion. I've got my shoulders thrown back and my chin held high as the music thrums through my veins, injecting confidence straight into my heart.

I'm unshakable in this moment. Until, that is, the woman behind the desk motions for me to put my headphones away. Until she asks for my ID, and tells me to check my backpack into one of the cubicles behind her. Nerves flutter in my stomach, and as much as I try to push them down, there's no escaping the truth—the moment has come. My friends are elsewhere. My dad is working. My music is confiscated.

There is only me, my admissions ticket, my No. 2 pencils, and an SAT-approved calculator.

I check-in and then wait where the woman indicates, my blood pounding in my ears. I close my eyes and run through the calming techniques my tutor taught me. But before I can get too deep into them, a group of girls walks up and begins talking, loudly, about their plans after college. My eyes slip open, one at a time, and I stare at them as if they are a breed of human I've never encountered.