“It’s your life,” he said. “You should apply. Totally!”
“He’s paying for college,” I said. “He wants to make sure I manage to get skills I can earn a living with.”
“Like what?” Vir asked.
“You know—engineering, medicine, law.” I counted them off on my fingers. “The usual things you’re allowed to do if you’re Indian.”
Vir laughed. “But you’ve clearly got talent.” He turned a page to another sketch. “That’s awesome!” He flipped another page. “What’s that?”
I snatched back the notepad. “Nothing!”
“It said ‘Wedding checklist’!” He looked surprised. “What does that mean?”
“It means that it’s a checklist for a wedding,” I said. He wasn’t the only one who could be sarcastic.
“Aren’t you a bit young for that?” he said.
“Vinnie’s wedding,” I explained. “My sister?”
“Your sister’s wedding!” he said. “Of course. How come she isn’t planning it, then?”
“She’s starting residency on July first,” I told him. “In Chicago. And her fiancé is a second-year resident. They don’t have the time to plan it, so I’m helping out.”
“So big sis got into medicine, huh?” he said. “Is that why you’re not applying to design school?”
“I never said I’m not applying,” I said.
“Okay, I’m confused.…”
“It kind of depends”—I checked my phone. Yikes, my test score had been out for fifteen minutes already!—“on what I get on my SAT.”
“Oh, when do you find out what you scored?”
“Right now.” I took a deep breath. “They just released the score, but I haven’t looked… yet.”
“Aah,” he said. “Nervous?”
I nodded.
“It will be fine,” he said. “Really! Just look, okay? Do you want me to go?”
“No!”
“No?”
“I’m going to sign in,” I said. “But I’m terrified to look. Can you… check it for me? If it’s over 1490, give me a thumbs-up, if it’s below, a thumbs-down.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being below 1490!”
“My sister scored 1590, for context.…”
“Damn. What a beast!”
“Yeah. But I’m not anywhere near her level. Okay, I’m logging in.…” I handed him my phone. “Check!”
He took my phone without a word, his face serious. I stared at him as he tapped through the screen.
“Sooo?”
He broke into a sudden smile and held his hand up for a high five. “Sorry, thumbs-up, right?” He gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “It’s 1510! Look!”
“I scored over 1500?” I grabbed the phone and checked for myself. It was true. “Yes! Thank goodness! I’m so happy!”
We grinned at each other.
“Congratulations.” He held out his hand and pumped mine in a handshake. “Well done you!”
“Thanks, and what is it with you and handshakes? Honestly?”
“School culture?” he said. “Speaking of which, where do you go?”
“Westbury High,” I said. “And you?”
“Nowhere,” he said. What? I must have looked confused because he added, “I took a gap year. After being stuck on a boarding school campus in the Thar Desert it was nice to have a break, you know?”
“Cool,” I said. “What did you do?”
“Worked in Mumbai for ten months,” he said. “And traveled—Australia, Singapore, UK…”
“That explains the British accent.” I nodded wisely.
“Very funny!” he said. “The British accent is from living in England. I grew up there. Lived in other places since, but it kind of stuck.”
“So, are you going to school in the US?” I asked. If not, he’d be leaving soon.…
“Yes,” he said. “Starting in fall.”
“At Fellsway?” I asked.
“Yeah, right!” he said. “No way I’d go there!”
“It’s officially coed!” I said. “I’ve read their prospectus!”
“Any college where my mum is dean is not for me,” he said. “Ever!”
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“MIT,” he said.
“Impressive,” I said. “Wait, so what did you get on your SAT?”
“Same as your sister.” He grinned. “Also 1590. Weird, right?”
“Now who’s a beast?” I said. “And after telling me not to stick to the doctor/lawyer/engineer mantra, you want to be an engineer?”
“Why not?” he said. “It is what I want. That’s what matters!”
Shayla was right about him being smart as well as cute. He had that casual aura of self-assurance that comes from having it all.
“I guess!” I said. “Congratulations. It’s really hard to get into MIT. What’s their acceptance rate? Like nine percent or something?”
“Where are you applying?” he asked. “Do you have a college list yet?”
I could actually think about finalizing a college list now that I had my SAT score, though I still had to wait to see how I scored on my AP Studio Art portfolio and my other AP exams.
“Fellsway, for one,” I said. “Put in a good word for me with your mom, will you?”
“Fellsway doesn’t have a design program,” he said. “You should be applying to Parsons, or FIT, or Rhode Island School of Design, or—”
“I know what the good design schools are,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “But Fellsway is close to home, so I can still see Yogi—my dog, you know—and my dad too. Why are you dissing the school, anyway, when your mom runs it? Jeez!”
“None of my business, I know,” he said. “But you have talent, clearly. Don’t sell yourself short!”
“It’s not like I haven’t thought about it,” I said. “I have a portfolio from my AP Studio Art classes and I’m hoping to finish some new pieces over the summer. I’m definitely going to apply. And if I get in—I’ll see how I feel then.”
“Good plan,” Vir said.
“You must have been in some Indian weddings,” I said, changing the subject. “Any tips for me?”
He made such a horrible face that it made me laugh.
“Like weddings that much, huh?” I said.
“I didn’t mind so much when I was a kid, but now…,” Vir said. “Hey, why aren’t your parents planning it?”
I rolled my eyes. “Dad’s hopeless,” I said. “And Mom’s not around.”
“Oh.” He didn’t ask for details. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“Divorce?” he asked. “Not that it’s any of my business.” Funny he assumed that.
“It isn’t that,” I explained. “She passed away.” I’d had a lot of practice saying this, and it had gotten easier to say. “It’s been seven years. Right around the time my sister took her SAT, and she still got a 1590. If not for that, she would have scored a 1600 for sure.”
“That’s amazing,”
