Parallel

didn’t answer right away.”
    “But he eventually said yes?”
    “Only after I made it sound like it wasn’t a date.”
    “It sounds very complicated,” Mom says. “But promising! So where are you taking him?”
    “Oh, just this get-together a girl from school is having at her house.” I keep my voice casual, but not too casual. I don’t want to sound evasive, but I am, in fact, being evasive, because of course Ilana’s parents are out of town, and of course there’s no way my parents will let me go to the party if they know that.
    “Tonight?”
    “Yep. Hey, are those for me?” I ask, pointing at the stack of oversized envelopes on the table.
    “They are,” she replies, sliding them toward me. College application packets. I quickly flip through them—Vanderbilt, Duke, University of Georgia, and Yale—then drop the whole stack in the trash. “You know, it might not hurt to have some options,” she says. I can tell she’s treading carefully. “Not that I don’t think you’ll get into Northwestern, because I know you will. But why limit yourself now? Why not give yourself some choices?”
    “I am giving myself choices. By also applying to Indiana and NYU.” My dismissive tone earns me a pointed look. “Sorry,” I tell her. “I just don’t want to go to school in the South, okay? We’ve talked about this.”
    “Fine. That covers three of the four.” Mom walks to the trash can and pulls out the blue-and-white Yale envelope. “Connecticut is definitely not the South. And Yale has one of the oldest and most widely read college newspapers in the country.” We both know she only knows this because Caitlin said it at my birthday dinner.
    “But no journalism program,” I point out. “Which would matter if we were talking about a school I could get into, which we’re not.” This earns me another look. “Mom. It’s Yale . Nine-percent-acceptance-rate Yale. Normal people like me do not get into places like that.”
    “Who says you’re normal?” She smiles, making a joke, but this conversation is irritating me, because it’s the same one we’ve been having since I was a kid. Mom thinks I underestimate myself. I know she overestimates me. Despite her conviction that I’m Someone Special, history has proven that I am merely average. Which I’m fine with—I just wish she’d get on board. “At least think about it,” Mom urges, holding out the envelope. “Will you do that for your annoying mom?”
    I take the envelope. “Only because she’s being particularly annoying right now.”
    Mom winks. “She tries.”
    At quarter till eight, having tried on nearly every item of clothing in my closet in every possible combination and promptly dismissed each one, I’m digging through my mom’s top drawer. My skinny jeans work with this slouchy top and heels, but the whole ensemble still feels a little blah on its own. As I’m wrapping a sparkly linen scarf around my neck, the doorbell rings. I grab a pair of earrings from her jewelry box and head downstairs.
    Caitlin and my mom are standing in the foyer, talking, when I appear. They get quiet when they see me.
    “What?” I ask suspiciously. I hate when they talk about me. Which is often.
    “Nothing,” my mom says with a breezy smile. “Enjoy your non-date date.”
    As usual, Caitlin looks amazing. Her faded jeans and thin hooded sweatshirt give the impression that she just threw the outfit on, but the details—gold accessories, her grandfather’s watch, dramatic metallic platform sandals—pull the whole look together. I wonder briefly if it’s a mistake to let Josh meet her. Not that anything would ever happen between them, it’s just that I know how she looks and I know how I look.
    “You’re being ridiculous,” Caitlin says as we walk to her car. For a second I think she’s read my mind. “You should just apply.”
    “Huh?”
    “To Yale. Your mom told me they sent you an application packet. Would it really be so horrible if you and I were at the same school?”
    I roll my eyes. “Yeah, that’s why I don’t want to apply. I’m afraid you and I will both end up there.” Caitlin unlocks the doors to her Jetta, and we both get in.
    “So what is it, then? Why not apply?”
    “(A), I won’t get in, so it’s a waste of energy. And paper.”
    “The application is electronic.”
    “And (B), Yale doesn’t have a journalism program.”
    “That’s because it’s a liberal arts school.”
    “Exactly. And while