Drop

Never had an email caused Tamar so much stress- especially one that wasn’t even in her inbox yet. She had worn tracks into her plush carpet, worrying about when it would be sent. The rhythm of Tamar’s footsteps had drawn her father up from the living room more than once.

“Tamar, it’s going to be fine. ” Grace’s voice droned over the phone’s tinny speaker. On Tamar’s phone, Grace crossed his arms over her Amford shirt; she had decided to go to the state college.

Tamar’s eyes didn’t leave the computer screen. “Yeah, I know.”

“Hmph”. Grace rolled her eyes. “Why even call me if you’re not going to listen to what I say? Honestly, I should probably have just sent you a voice note. I repeat myself every time anyways.”

Jolted by Grace’s remark, Tamar blinked and glanced at her friend. Grace was in her bedroom, plucking hairs from her brush.

Tamar’s stomach unclenched. “I-I know. It’s just. . I’ve put so much work in. Became student president twice over. Got valedictorian. Became head of the honor society! But I don’t know if they see that.” Tamar bit her lip and turned away from her computer, fully facing Grace. Harvard hadn’t seen it the past two admission rounds. Now was her last chance to break into the highest echelon of elite education. She tried to speak again, but her words caught in her throat as her vision blurred.

Grace snorted. “I know I have. Staying up all those nights with you? Hell, you’re the only reason I survived chemistry. And you pretty much carried Ava through physics.” She fidgeted with her brush and quickly added, “If Ava were here, she would say that, too.” Since February, Ava had grown less active in their group chat. Tamar hadn’t seen much of her in study hall, either, but Grace assured her that their friend was doing well. “She’s just a bit stressed,” Grace would say.

Tamar couldn’t blame her.

“ Harvard will see it,” Grace continued. “But do you see your own work? Your own effort?”

Tamar went up to the awards and medals hanging over her computer desk. The gold gleamed like stars. Sometimes, when she left the windows open, they would chime against each other in the breeze. If she got a rejection, she knew her room would fall silent, the wall barren.

Tamar’s father pressed his face against hers, wrapping her in his arms. “Please don’t cry. You’ve already done so well.”

He squeezed her one last time and walked out the door.

Comforted, Tamar could feel the tightness leave her muscles. Exhaustion settled deep into her bones. Yawning, she figured a little nap wouldn’t hurt her. She crawled into her bed and shut her eyes against the daylight. It worked for a few moments, but every notification sent her bolting to her laptop.

Each time, she desperately hoped and dreaded that it was the answer she was looking for. Tamar’s mother finally came upstairs and practically dragged her away from her computer. She forced her protesting daughter to take a breather on the patio. “And please don’t rush back into the house!”, her mother cried out as she walked back to the kitchen. She caught Tamar’s eyes and gave her a look. “I’ll know.” Peering through the window, Tamar could see her mother cradling her phone between her shoulder and cheek, chatting. It was a breezy sixty-three degrees that March day, melted snow glistening on the evergreen trees in Tamar’s backyard. She was in a light sweater and jogging pants, yet barely felt the chill as she paced across her patio.

Every second outside felt like torture.

She knew that if Harvard offered her a spot, no one else could take it.

She knew that admission results were made well before they sent the letters out, and they most likely weren’t delayed because she had mistyped her name in the e-signature section.

She knew that there were other acceptance letters stashed away in her desk. Getting rejected from her only top choice wouldn’t end her career.

Yet she couldn’t help but feel like she was at a summit of sorts. Tamar didn’t know if going over was the start of an exciting ride or a fatal plummet.

She shuddered, the fear chilling her more than the breeze. Tamar wanted- no, needed- to find out. Wincing as she cracked open the patio’s glass doors, Tamar poked her head through the gap. She hoped the cool breeze wouldn’t disturb her father, who was watching TV on the living room sofa. Further back was Tamar’s mother. Her back was turned as she stirred sambar for dinner, chattering on her phone. The stairwell to Tamar’s room was behind the sofa. Tamar slipped one foot in, then shimmied through the small gap she had opened. She shut the door behind her and clambered the stairs two steps at a time.

Tamar dashed to her bed and shook her mouse. It had been only 10 minutes since she tried to calm down outside, yet that was enough time for an email to enter her inbox- wasn’t it? Her fingers were still tinged red from the cold but felt clammy with sweat as she checked her email.

The first email she saw was from Harvard admissions. Her eyes went wide. Her stomach dropped. She clicked on it.

“Dear Tamar,

We at Harvard Admissions are delighted to accept you into the class of 2025!”

The other words blurred into black streaks as Tamar leapt out of her chair, fist pumped. All of her anxious energy escaped her in a euphoric “Yes!”. She grabbed her Macbook and flew down the stairs, colliding into her father at the bottom. Her father was going to reprimand her until he saw her tears.

“Tamar, is everything ok?”

“Better! I got in- get Mom, quick!”

There was no need for him to. The commotion drew Tamar’s mom out of the kitchen. She smiled and hugged her daughter, rubbing her back.

“What did I tell you, kanna? Everything would be ok.”

Tamar’s father wrapped both in his arms, squeezing them tightly. Grabbing his keys and his coat, he turned to his daughter and asked, “Tamar, do you want to have a sleepover with your friends? After all, it might be your last one as a high school student!”

What a rare treat! Tamar’s excitement rocketed, and she squealed. “That would be so cool! Let me tell Grace and Ava.” She bounded up the steps.

Tamar bounced onto her bed and texted her friends about her admission to Harvard and invited them over to her house. She scrolled past the previous messages, smiling as she read all the late night study invites, the teacher complaints, the silly debates. Tamar and Grace had tried to set up a date, but they were all so busy with extracurriculars that they couldn’t meet up often. Ava in particular wasn’t able to make it to many study sessions or mock tests, but Tamar figured a sleepover would be an exception.

She set the phone on her bedside table and laid back on her bed, a smile on her face. For the first time in four years, Tamar felt no worries weighing her down. All the late nights she, Grace, and Ava had spent studying had paid off. She daydreamed about the sleepover, wondering if she should ask Ava about bringing her DVD player. Grace said that she had a movie she wanted to show them.

Fifteen minutes had passed when a notification pinged on Tamar’s phone. It turned out it was from Snapchat. She had received a lot of messages, actually. Her friends still hadn’t responded to her text. What was taking them so long? “They’re probably just busy”, Tamar muttered to herself. That thought didn’t really console her.

She opened Snapchat and clicked on her school’s story. The first photo was of a Harvard rejection email. The caption read, “apparently I wasn’t enough of a tryhard to get in”. Tamar’s high was sobered by a twinge of sympathy. Her anxiety felt like an ancient memory, yet she could imagine how terrible the poster felt. She tapped on the text box to leave a comment, then froze:

“ yeah, i know someone who pretty much sold her soul to get in. you think she’ll learn how to get it back when she’s there?”

Ava had left a comment on the post. It was left 10 minutes ago. The poster replied with a laughing with tears emoji.

“I know exactly who you mean, lol. Good for her, i guess”

Tamar sat there for a few seconds, her finger still poised over the text box.

She was inside her room, but the March chill would have felt positively tropical compared to being in there. Tamar licked her lips, like she was going to respond to an online comment out loud. Was that why Ava hadn’t responded to her? How long had they been like this?

Tamar’s fingers felt thick and ungainly as she navigated to her message app to text Grace directly. Later, Tamar wasn’t exactly sure why she had done that. Maybe it was because she’d hope Grace was still on her side. She texted Grace the invitation, erasing numerous typos. Tamar didn’t add in that she got into Harvard, or that the sleepover was to celebrate her acceptance.

She dropped her phone onto the floor. Tamar wrapped herself in her blanket, yet still felt cold. She thought back to her competing anticipation and anxiety, each stoking her to a fever point. She thought the worst thing was that she would take the plunge and find out it was a deadly plummet. But Tamar realized that it didn’t really matter that she was on the start of an exciting ride. Ride or drop, it still hollowed her out to know she was facing it alone.