"Of course, he got an A. It's not like he has a life."
"Teachers feel bad for him. That's why."
Meanwhile, Mom was pulling double routes to pay off the last of the hospital bills.
One afternoon, Mr. Anderson asked me to stay after class.
"I want you to apply here."
He dropped a brochure on my desk.
Big fancy logo.
I recognized it right away.
One of the top engineering institutes in the country.
"I want you to apply here," he said.
I stared at it like it might catch fire.
"They have full rides for students like you. I checked."
"Yeah, okay. Hilarious."
"I'm serious. They have full rides for students like you. I checked."
"I can't just leave my mom. She cleans offices at night, too. I help."
"I'm not saying it'll be easy. I'm saying you deserve the chance to choose. Let them tell you no. Don't tell yourself no first."
So we did it in secret.
So I started over.
After school, I'd sit in his classroom and work on essays.
The first draft I wrote was some generic "I like math, I want to help people" garbage.
He read it and shook his head.
"This could be anyone. Where are you?"
So I started over.
I wrote about 4 a.m. alarms and orange vests.
When I finished reading, Mr. Anderson was quiet for a long second.
About my dad's empty boots by the door.
About Mom studying drug dosages once and then hauling medical waste now.
About lying to her face when she asked if I had friends.
When I finished reading, Mr. Anderson was quiet for a long second. Then he cleared his throat.
"Yeah. Send that one."
The rejection, if it came, would be mine alone.
I told Mom I was applying to "some schools back East," but I didn't say which.
I couldn't stand the idea of watching her get excited and then having to say, "Never mind."
The rejection, if it came, would be mine alone.
The email arrived on a Tuesday.
