Authors: Autumn Cornwell
Carpe Diem (3 page)
Â
I sat motionless on the couch. What on earth could transform my normally cucumber-esque mother into a character from a Tennessee Williams play? And my normally law-abiding father into a lawbreaker?
The Big Secret. That's what.
I felt as if I'd returned from school and accidentally walked into the wrong house.
I felt out of context.
I felt numb.
The Advanced Latin Study Group GalsâMinus One
A
mber leaned forward, her husky voice an octave lower than normal: “Listen to this: Sam Westman from study hall said that Tony Keeler who lives next door to John Pepper said that John plans to restore a boat this summer and sail it to Crescent Island for camp-outs. AND that there's a certain girl he'd like to have alongâwho just
happens
to be in the Advanced Latin Study Group.”
mber leaned forward, her husky voice an octave lower than normal: “Listen to this: Sam Westman from study hall said that Tony Keeler who lives next door to John Pepper said that John plans to restore a boat this summer and sail it to Crescent Island for camp-outs. AND that there's a certain girl he'd like to have alongâwho just
happens
to be in the Advanced Latin Study Group.”
She flipped her fire-engine-red pageboy expectantly and ate a thick steak fry off the tray that Laurel was balancing in her right handâan effort for pint-sized Laurel since she barely reached Amber's shoulders and had wrists like twigs.
“Hearsay,” said Denise, not looking up from her Latin textbook as she leaned against the rain-splattered window.
We were riding the 7:04 a.m. ferry crossing the Puget Sound to the Seattle Academy of Academic Excellence. The sky was overcast with streaks of gray, tufts of white, and shards of sun. Drizzling. All our fellow students who lived in Port Ann made the hour ferry ride to and from
Seattle every day. We didn't mindâit gave us two hours a day to do our advanced placement homework, practice our Latin, and eat fries. Once aboard, we'd rush to secure a booth in the concession areaâthe most desirable section on the boat. Or we'd hover until one became available.
Seattle every day. We didn't mindâit gave us two hours a day to do our advanced placement homework, practice our Latin, and eat fries. Once aboard, we'd rush to secure a booth in the concession areaâthe most desirable section on the boat. Or we'd hover until one became available.
That's what we were doing now: hovering.
Impatient at my lack of response, Amber said with her mouth full of fry:
“Stop being obtuse. Who else could he mean but you, Vassar? The girl he stares at during Latin when he's supposed to be conjugating verbs.”
I felt my cheeks get warm.
“Perhaps his laser surgery left him with faulty depth perception,” said Denise, flipping a page.
Amber and Laurel ignored her.
There's a chance John Pepper knows I exist? My plan had turned into realityâfar faster than I'd expected. I allowed myself to daydream: wind tousling his sun-bleached hair (tousle, tousle, tousle), sunlight glinting off his gleaming teeth, sharing a laugh as together we tug on various ropes to hoist the mainsail. His minor acne disguised by a tan. Wearing his white rolled-up jeans and deck shoes. I grab his muscular arm to steady myself. He puts an arm around my waist and draws me close to his rock-solidâwhy, oh why, must I be banished to the Malaria Zone
now
!?!
now
!?!
“Vassar? Earth to Vassar, come in, Vassar.”
I was back on Earth. Back to reality.
“Soooo ⦠what do you think?”
Before I could reply:
“Booth!” Amber shouted, and raced ahead of a fortyish businessman who was also making a beeline for the just vacated booth. She'd learned something about competition, growing up with those three older brothers. We snatched our backpacks and elbowed past him. He stood there stunned, clutching a croissant and
Wall Street Journal
to his chest as we swiftly slipped past him into the booth one by one: big-hipped, Doc Martensâwearing Amber; delicate Laurel in Laura Ashley and lavender-framed glasses; and sturdy Denise with her round, flat face, blond Dutch-boy bob, and penchant for surf shirts. And me.
Wall Street Journal
to his chest as we swiftly slipped past him into the booth one by one: big-hipped, Doc Martensâwearing Amber; delicate Laurel in Laura Ashley and lavender-framed glasses; and sturdy Denise with her round, flat face, blond Dutch-boy bob, and penchant for surf shirts. And me.
Laurel deposited the tray of fries in the center of the table and rubbed her wrists.
“Join us, sir,” Amber said sweetly, fluttering her fake eyelashes and coyly tossing her hair. “There's more than enough room.”
Miffed, he strode down the aisle.
“Too bad. He was cute,” Amber said, shoving another fry in her mouth.
“For a balding, middle-aged, boring person,” said Denise.
Amber sighed. No one would ever take her for the Seattle Academy of Academic Excellence's reigning chess champion. She looked like an extra from
Pretty in Pink.
And she was forever having crushesâsometimes three going at once. Or four, if she'd just been to the gym. “He could have taught me the mysteries of the stock market ⦠the romance of capital gainsâ”
Pretty in Pink.
And she was forever having crushesâsometimes three going at once. Or four, if she'd just been to the gym. “He could have taught me the mysteries of the stock market ⦠the romance of capital gainsâ”
“Vassar, what's wrong?” asked Laurel abruptly in her wispy voice, peering at me through her glasses.
“Yeah. You don't look happy that John Pepper
may
like you,” said Amber.
may
like you,” said Amber.
Denise looked up from her Latin book.
I took a deep breath. “I have some bad news.”
After I finished telling them, there was complete silence. Not even so much as the chewing of a fry. Then:
“An all-expense-paid trip to Southeast Asia! I wish my grandparents gave presents like that. But no, I get a Dr. Scholl's Foot Bath,” said Amber.
“You know, it seems so out of the blue. She's never even visited you before,” said Laurel. She delicately dipped her fry in ranch dressing.
Denise's face was mauve. “Don't you guys get it? Cannot you comprehend what this means? Now that Medusa-Cyclops-Hydra from Hades-Slag of Slurry will take valedictorian! Once again I maintain: There is no God!”
“Ssshhh, Denise,” I said, gesturing toward the senior citizens in the booth next to us craning their necks.
“Oh, rightâ
Wendy Stupacker.
” The normally refined Laurel practically spit the name.
Wendy Stupacker.
” The normally refined Laurel practically spit the name.
“It's not enough she's rich, drives a convertible with alloy rims, and runway-models part-time in the summerânow she gets val!” Amber's howl was almost as loud as Denise's.
They were taking it harder than I expected. They'd always been indignant on my behalf at the way Wendy had treated me: Wendy and I had been best friends in elementary school
and junior high.
The Future Val and Sal,
we used to write in our yearbooks, not caring who got what. But once we hit high school, suddenly I wasn't best friend material anymore. One day Wendy simply stopped returning my calls, replying to my emails, acknowledging me in the hallways, or sitting next to me at lunch. So what used to be good-natured competition turned into a full-blown academic rivalry.
and junior high.
The Future Val and Sal,
we used to write in our yearbooks, not caring who got what. But once we hit high school, suddenly I wasn't best friend material anymore. One day Wendy simply stopped returning my calls, replying to my emails, acknowledging me in the hallways, or sitting next to me at lunch. So what used to be good-natured competition turned into a full-blown academic rivalry.
“You were our only hope. And there's no way Denise can surpass her,” said Laurel.
Denise had contracted mono (Irony: the kissing disease with no fun to show for it) her freshman year, which put her slightly behind in AP classes. So although she was a certified genius with a 150 IQ, she was in second place behind Wendy and me.
“I can't believe your grandma is doing this to us,” said Laurel, shaking her head.
“Why are your parents even letting you go? Have they joined a cult? Been experimenting with mind-altering substances?” asked Amber half-seriously.
Denise fixed me with her protuberant blue eyesâknown to disarm many an opponent during forensics tournaments or mathalete competitions. “Why don't I talk to them, reason with them. Stress the detrimental effect this will have not only on your academic career but on the entire Seattle Academy of Academic Excellence. The reverberations will be deadly. Not to mention what it'll do to Wendy's monumental ego. All of Seattle won't be able to contain it.”
“Actually, they had no choiceâ”
Denise cut me off. “Come on, Vassar, it's worth a try. Anything to prevent us having to watch that smug piece of tripe give the valedictorian speech. Anything. Including selling myself as a specimen for science experiments or joining the cheerleading squadâno sacrifice would be too great.”
The vision of no-nonsense Denise in a swirly skirt and hoisting pom-poms, performing a routine with mathematical precision momentarily distracted us.
“It's not
that
funny,” said Denise.
that
funny,” said Denise.
When we finally stopped laughing, I scanned the booths around me, then lowered my voice. “Actually, my parents were forced into it. Under extreme duress.”
The ferry lurched, and we all reached out to stop the plate of fries from sliding off the table.
With their eyes glued to mine, I whispered:
“Blackmail.”
“Blackmail!?” they said in unison, their eyes lighting up like the Bunsen burners in our Advanced Chemistry Lab. Denise snapped her Latin book shut. They all leaned toward me.
“Divulge!”
“Spill!”
“Extrapolate!”
Â
The four of us met last year in the Advanced Latin Study Group. We were all able to bypass the regular Latin Study
Group since we'd studied Latin in elementary school and junior high. There were four guysâincluding John Pepperâand one other girl: Wendy Stupacker.
Group since we'd studied Latin in elementary school and junior high. There were four guysâincluding John Pepperâand one other girl: Wendy Stupacker.
At that point, I was sick of brown bagging it alone while Wendy lunched with the Seattle Academy of Academic Excellence elite
.
I complained to Mom. She said I needed to “empower myself” and to be “more intentional” about whom I selected as my next best friend and that I should go about it in an organized, scientific mannerâ“as if you were doing it for the Science Fair or Advanced Placement Biology.”
.
I complained to Mom. She said I needed to “empower myself” and to be “more intentional” about whom I selected as my next best friend and that I should go about it in an organized, scientific mannerâ“as if you were doing it for the Science Fair or Advanced Placement Biology.”
She was right.
So I created this:
GOAL:
To select a new best friend.
To select a new best friend.
CANDIDATES:
Denise, Laurel, and Amber from Advanced Latin Study Group
Denise, Laurel, and Amber from Advanced Latin Study Group
BACKGROUND:
Product of college professorsâone with a PhD in Physics and the other a PhD in Kinetics. Lives in a condo overlooking the Puget Sound. Her older sister, Fran, failed to inherit the family genes and dropped out of college to sing backup in a garage band.
Product of college professorsâone with a PhD in Physics and the other a PhD in Kinetics. Lives in a condo overlooking the Puget Sound. Her older sister, Fran, failed to inherit the family genes and dropped out of college to sing backup in a garage band.
EXTRACURRICULAR HIGHLIGHTS:
Head of Forensics Team; Vice President of National Honor Society; fluent in Spanish and German; gaining proficiency in Japanese; Science
Fair winner; MVP of mathaletes; plays French horn in the marching band.
Head of Forensics Team; Vice President of National Honor Society; fluent in Spanish and German; gaining proficiency in Japanese; Science
Fair winner; MVP of mathaletes; plays French horn in the marching band.
GPA:
4.8
4.8
COLLEGE OF CHOICE:
Harvard
Harvard
LIFE GOAL:
To go into medical research and discover the cure for allergies, cavities, or male-pattern baldness. (“One of those problems that aren't a matter of life and death, yet no one has been able to solve.”)
To go into medical research and discover the cure for allergies, cavities, or male-pattern baldness. (“One of those problems that aren't a matter of life and death, yet no one has been able to solve.”)
CONS:
Can be intimidatingâimpatient with the less intelligent around her. Doesn't know how to have fun.
Can be intimidatingâimpatient with the less intelligent around her. Doesn't know how to have fun.
MISC:
Although she'll deny it publicly, she collects hippos: figurines, pictures, stufed animals. Has hundreds of them. Adamant atheist. Her sole nonacademic goal: learn how to surf.
Although she'll deny it publicly, she collects hippos: figurines, pictures, stufed animals. Has hundreds of them. Adamant atheist. Her sole nonacademic goal: learn how to surf.
PBF RATING:
Good
Good
BACKGROUND:
Lives in a restored 1920s apartment above her mom's shopâthe kind that sells bunches of dried roses, hand-tooled leather journals, and vials of pheromone oil. Single mom who's also petite and floweryâso when Laurel helps out in the shop, the customers always mistake them for sisters. Unlike me, she hates being an only child. (“Then take one of my brothers,” Amber told her. “Please!”)
Lives in a restored 1920s apartment above her mom's shopâthe kind that sells bunches of dried roses, hand-tooled leather journals, and vials of pheromone oil. Single mom who's also petite and floweryâso when Laurel helps out in the shop, the customers always mistake them for sisters. Unlike me, she hates being an only child. (“Then take one of my brothers,” Amber told her. “Please!”)
EXTRACURRICULAR HIGHLIGHTS:
President of Etymology Club (three members to date); Secretary of National Honor Society; Captain of Flag Corps; nine years of piano lessons; fluent in Scandinavian languages; volunteers on Wednesdays as a tutor for inner-city kids.
President of Etymology Club (three members to date); Secretary of National Honor Society; Captain of Flag Corps; nine years of piano lessons; fluent in Scandinavian languages; volunteers on Wednesdays as a tutor for inner-city kids.
GPA:
4.0
4.0
COLLEGE OF CHOICE:
Dartmouth
Dartmouth
LIFE GOALS:
Trying to decide between Pediatrician, Child Therapist & Counselor, and Principal of a Private School for Underprivileged Children. Lovesâno, LOOOOVESâkids. Wants to adopt ten children of various ethnicities from around the world.
Trying to decide between Pediatrician, Child Therapist & Counselor, and Principal of a Private School for Underprivileged Children. Lovesâno, LOOOOVESâkids. Wants to adopt ten children of various ethnicities from around the world.
CONS:
Her mom sews all her clothes. Although not a con per se, too much flora can be tiring on the eyes ⦠.
Her mom sews all her clothes. Although not a con per se, too much flora can be tiring on the eyes ⦠.
MISC:
Is the only one of us who's been asked out. (But she's waiting for one guy in particular to get up the nerve to ask: Garrett, who assists our school librarian. Preppy and niceâbordering on so nice, he seems simple. But he's not. He's just â¦
nice
.)
Is the only one of us who's been asked out. (But she's waiting for one guy in particular to get up the nerve to ask: Garrett, who assists our school librarian. Preppy and niceâbordering on so nice, he seems simple. But he's not. He's just â¦
nice
.)
PBF RATING:
Very Good
Very Good
(At first I thought she'd wandered into the Advanced Latin Study Group by mistake, on her way to drama auditions.)
BACKGROUND:
Lives in the suburbsâcomplete with boat, camper trailer, and three motocross bikes. Her parents work in boring management jobs and live for the weekends. They wish Amber were in better shape to compete athletically like her three older brothers. (“Amber, the last time a big pear won a volleyball scholarship was
never
.”)
Lives in the suburbsâcomplete with boat, camper trailer, and three motocross bikes. Her parents work in boring management jobs and live for the weekends. They wish Amber were in better shape to compete athletically like her three older brothers. (“Amber, the last time a big pear won a volleyball scholarship was
never
.”)
EXTRACURRICULAR HIGHLIGHTS:
Seattle Academy of Academic Excellence chess champion; member of National Honor Society (by the skin of her teeth); does makeup for Drama Club productions.
Seattle Academy of Academic Excellence chess champion; member of National Honor Society (by the skin of her teeth); does makeup for Drama Club productions.
GPA:
3.5
3.5
COLLEGE OF CHOICE:
None yetâTBD.
None yetâTBD.
CONS:
Thinking
after
speaking. Sneaking cloves on the deck of the ferry. Has no clue what she wants to do when she grows upâno Life Goal (much less what to major in, in college).
Thinking
after
speaking. Sneaking cloves on the deck of the ferry. Has no clue what she wants to do when she grows upâno Life Goal (much less what to major in, in college).
MISC:
Works at a thrift shop on weekendsâand spends all of her salary on 1980s clothes. Collects ska albums.
PBF RATING:
Goodâwith minor reservations.
Works at a thrift shop on weekendsâand spends all of her salary on 1980s clothes. Collects ska albums.
PBF RATING:
Goodâwith minor reservations.
Â
However, it turned out that I didn't have to pick just one PBF. The four of us immediately bonded over our immense dislike of Wendy Stupacker.
By our sixth Advanced Latin Study Group meeting, we were all best friends.
And I didn't miss Wendy one ⦠little ⦠bit.
Â
Laurel, Denise, and Amber consumed a second course of fries and Diet Cokes as they stared at the words neatly written in blue ink in my notebook.
Bubble. Birth. Too young. Rubber ball. Dying. Egg.
“Dying as in eggs or dying as in dead? Egg as in scrambled?”
“Come on, use your cerebrum, Amber ⦠how could that be a blackmail-able offense?” Denise shook her head.
“Hey, we're cerebrum-storming here. You're not allowed to nix any idea. At least until the hypothesis has been proven notâ”
“Vassar, sure you didn't actually hear âleg'?” asked Laurel.
“No, I'm positive it was âegg.'”
“Maybe it's an Easter-themed secret.” Amber slurped the last of her soda.
Rubber ball.
Denise chewed a fry rhythmically as she looked off into space. “The rubber ball is especially intriguing. So innocuous. So seemingly unimportantâbut perhaps holding the clue to the entire thing.”
“That must refer to the birthday collage she sent me last year.”
“Seemingly irrelevantâhence, probably highly relevant,” Denise went on.
Too young.
“There are
lots
of things Vassar's too young for ⦠.” Amber snorted.
lots
of things Vassar's too young for ⦠.” Amber snorted.
Denise raised an eyebrow. “Thank you, Amber. Your perception is staggering.”
Birth.
“Birthday? Rebirth?”
“Afterbirth?” Laurel said, then immediately clapped a hand over her mouth.
“E
www
!” we all said.
www
!” we all said.
Bubble.
“Bubble, ball, and egg are all round.”
“Once again, Amber, your ability to state the obvious never ceases to amazeâ”
“Ohhh!” Laurel practically levitated in her seat.
Denise whirled toward her: “What? You've discerned a pattern?”
“Aren't they just adorable?” She waved at a class of kindergartners in uniforms wobbling by.
We exchanged looks.
Denise focused stern eyes on Laurel. “Let's stay on task here.”
“Oh, sorry, sorry,” said Laurel in her fluttery way.
Â
After a few more minutes of brainstorming, Denise finally turned to me and said, “There's no way to figure this out until you get to Southeast Asia. Too many variables, as your mom would say. We need more material to work with.”
“Man, Vassar. This sucks. I mean, the trip could be so cool ⦠but obviously not at the expense of valedictorian, Vassar, the Ivy League, and all your goals. Talk about having your entire life turned upside down,” said Amber.
The ferry lurched again. No, wait. This time it was my stomach.
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