Disappointment

Wednesday was a great day. It was one of those days when you learn something about a friend, and your friends learn something about you, and it's just wonderful. My best friend generally hates Wednesdays, for who knows what reason, but this time he was smiling until we left the parking lot. We played euchre, ate pizza, drank pop, joked around, and had band rehearsal until nine that night. I sit right by my best friend in band, so it made the rehearsal even more fun. It was one of the best days I could have asked for. We all left in a good mood. On the ride home, I realized that I had forgotten to tell my best friend, Ian, something, so I called him, and told him to call me when he got home; his ride would be longer than mine. He laughed, and said okay, and we hung up so I wouldn't be on the phone while driving. When I got home, my world fell apart.

There was a letter for me. It was from U of M. It was thin. Dear Anne, it said, You're not good enough for us. Thanks for trying.

I just stared at it for a while. What was I supposed to do? Cry? I think that's what my parents were expecting. I'm not one to cry. At least not over something like this. I turned my phone off so I wouldn't have to talk to Ian. Once I got sick of my parents' stumbling for words, I called Marianne. She had wanted to room with me at Central, and I knew she would be excited to hear this news. She seemed happy and sad. She was glad to room with me, but had no idea she would actually be able to, since she was positive I would get in to U of M. But she was still driving home from band, so I let her go. I wasn't sure if I really wanted to tell Ian yet or not. He's a bigger Michigan fan than Paul (if that's possible) and he was positive I would get accepted. He was the only one I actually believed when he said that. I decided to turn my phone on, and soon, I got a call from him. He asked for a friend's number. Still on his ride home. I told him he didn't have to call me back. He gave me a confused okay, and hung up. Within seconds, I realized that he was the only person I wanted to talk to. So I called him back.

I lied. I do want you to call me when you get home, I said. He said okay, then asked if everything was alright. I said no, it's not. He said okay, then hung up the phone. I laid in my bed, with my phone on my stomach, rising up and down with each strained breath. Finally, the Michigan Fight song announced a phone call from a certain Michigan-obsessed friend of mine.

Hello? I strained.

Hey, he said.

I have something to read to you.

Okay...?

Here goes: And I read him the letter, beginning with the date, and ending with the title of the man who signed my letter.

Half an hour later, I felt partially better, but he had a government test to study for, and I had distracted his mind. That night, I took a half hour shower, then painted my fingernails and toenails. I was up until one-thirty finishing them. They are a very intricate checkerboard design with two splotches of bright colors on each nail. I have matching socks.

I fell asleep reading a history of Michigan football. The next morning, I didn't brush my hair. I got up, brushed my teeth, and went to school. I was the first vehicle in the main parking lot, including teachers. I went straight up to my locker, and sat there reading from seven-twenty until eight o'clock, when my best friend showed up to talk in person. Neither of us knew what to say. He had cried. I showed him the letter. We were able to squeeze in half a game of euchre in before school; we lost. His recent bad luck in cards had not left him. By the end of the day, though, I was feeling better, what with being able to talk to Marianne, and staying after school until five o'clock "doing homework" with friends. My mom brought home bubbles from the grocery store. We had spaghetti for dinner.

Friday, I brought the bubbles to school, and they were a big hit. I blew bubbles in every class, and friends and classmates all got a chance to blow some, too. A few friends of mine were stressed and/or depressed for various reasons, and they all said that the bubbles helped.

I have accepted the fact that Central will be a good fit for me. I am excited to room with Marianne. I might even join the marching band. We'll see. I'm still in high school. I have every opportunity ahead of me.