Chapter 2
The day the waitlist results started coming out, I sat in front of my computer all day.
The education college in Silverton pulled three people off their waitlist for the education program. Just three spots.
My scores were high enough.
I called. They said the waitlist offers had already gone out. The last one had been accepted 40 minutes earlier.
I hung up. My palms were wet with sweat.
The second school was Goldwyn College of Education. They had an elementary education spot still available.
I went into the portal and claimed the spot.
*****
I barely slept those three days.
Olivia went about her life as usual. She went shopping, met up with friends, and dyed her hair a new color. Chestnut brown.
She came home and spun in front of the mirror a few times. "Sabrina, how does it look?"
"It looks good," I said.
She compressed her lips at her reflection. Then she said, out of nowhere, "Don't take that application thing to heart, okay? Your scores are good. It won't matter where you go."
It wouldn't matter where I went. No, it mattered.
The college I wanted had the best education school in the state. It had the master teacher program I had followed for two years. It had a teaching internship that placed students straight into the public schools in the city.
The bottom-tier school she picked for me, I looked it up. Tourism management. 37% job placement.
I didn't argue with her. What was the point?
*****
On the afternoon of the fourth day, an email came in from Goldwyn College of Education. A status update. I had been moved off the waitlist. Elementary education. The college was nearly 750 miles from home.
I sat in my room for a long time, staring at the notification.
Outside, kids were shouting under my window. The cicadas were loud enough to make my head ache.
Mom was in the living room, watching TV. The volume was turned up high.
She had no idea I had just gotten an offer.
And no one asked.
*****
I left for college at the end of August.
Mom handed me 2,000 dollars. "Be careful with your spending. When Olivia started college, we gave her 10,000 dollars in spending money.
"But you know how things are at home. You'll have to start with less."
Ten thousand dollars and two thousand dollars.
I said okay.
Dad drove me to the train station.
Olivia didn't get up. She had been out drinking with friends the night before and didn't get home until three in the morning.
Mom made excuses for her. "Olivia drank too much last night. Let her sleep. It's the thought that counts."
What thought?
Before I got on the train, Dad helped me with my suitcase, and we stood in the waiting area for a bit.
"Sabrina," he called.
I turned around.
He hesitated, then finally said, "Let us know when you get there."
*****
The train took seven hours.
Outside the window, the plains turned into hills. The tall buildings turned into low houses. The gray turned into green.
I put my earbuds in and turned my phone to silent.
By the time I arrived, the sky was black.
I dragged my suitcase out of the station. The air was wet and smelled of earth I didn't recognize.
I found the hotel I had booked online. 60 dollars a night. The shared bathroom was down the hall.
I sat on the narrow bed and sent Dad a message. I wrote: [I'm here.]
Then I put the phone down. I didn't text Mom. And I didn't text Olivia either.
On the first day of school, I checked in alone. I carried my own things. I made my own bed.
My roommate asked, "Where's your family?"
"Too far away. They couldn't make it," I replied.
She said, "Oh," and helped me lift my suitcase onto my bed.
That night, I lay on the top bunk, listening to the chirping of unfamiliar insects and the sound of my roommate shifting in her sleep.
Seven hundred and fifty miles. Far enough.