Watch Me Disappear

their dresses before President’s Day, and are now making limo reservations and deciding who should sit with whom for dinner. It isn’t as bad as at my old school. There, if you didn’t have a date by the end of February, forget it. Here, most people are more relaxed about it. Also, there is the option of going without a date, just with a group of friends, which you couldn’t do at either of the high schools I attended before. That possibility really takes the pressure off.
    Maura hasn’t said a word about prom yet, which surprises me. She is the kind of girl who actively campaigns to be queen. She is busy, though, dealing with Jason’s crises and trying to transform herself into a stick figure.
    Of course Missy and Paul are going. Missy Emailed me a picture of her dress when she bought it. That was before she realized our friendship was doomed. Her dress is black and white, boldly patterned, hugging her body so that every curve shows, with a ruffled hem and a slit to mid-thigh. It looks like a flamenco dancer’s dress. With her wild hair and full lips, she’ll be the girl all the guys dream about that night.
    I don’t have anyone in particular in mind for a date. I guess if Maura brings Jason, she’ll want me to bring one of his sketchy friends. I’m not up for that. I spend the entire last week of March evaluating every available guy in each of my classes, trying to decide which ones are good prospects. There aren’t many. Most of the good ones already have dates. But why do I want to go to the prom anyway? To watch Paul and Missy dazzle everyone with their innocent love? No, thanks.
    Fortunately, on the first of April, I get the distraction I need. College acceptances come in. I have exactly one consolation after opening my letters: Everyone else is disappointed too. In homeroom the next day, at least two thirds of the class is wallowing. Some of the girls are red-eyed from crying, while others haven’t even stopped their tears yet. The boys are acting tough, as usual. And the ones who got into their top choices or were accepted early action in the fall are trying not to gloat. Everyone knows how much those letters mean, and even the mean kids know better than to tease each other now.
    I had my heart set on going to a small liberal arts school—Middlebury, Dartmouth, Amherst, Williams, Connecticut College. I must have been delusional when I thought I had a chance. Rejected from every last one. I am almost sorry I bothered with a safety school because now I have to go there. If I had risked it all, I could have just taken a year off and figured out how to get in next year. Instead I will be enrolling at UMass. I got into the Honors College at least, but still. UMass.
    “You can transfer after freshman year,” my dad assures me. That prospect just upsets me more. My high school experience was divided between three schools. That’s not what I want for college.
    Maura didn’t even get into UMass, at least not to Amherst. She got into UMass Lowell, but she wants no part of that. She says she might just go to school to be a hairstylist. She’d be good at it. It would probably serve her better than college in a lot of ways, unless she grows up a lot in the few months before the fall.
    Some people got lucky. Katherine got into Wellesley, but she’s a legacy, so she had it in the bag anyway. Besides, you take away half the competition when you apply to a women’s college. Although I don’t hear it from them, I learn that both Missy and Paul got into Tufts. Paul really only got in because of baseball. He isn’t a terrible student, but he isn’t especially smart either. He also only takes easy classes. Missy didn’t even want to go to Tufts before she met Paul. She applied at the absolute last minute. Before, she had wanted to go to Bates. My opinion is that they’re kidding themselves if they think their romance will really survive the transition to college. Hunter is going to Harvard. His first choice was Princeton, but he didn’t get in. Life’s tough when you have to settle for Harvard.
    Everyone is scrambling to find out who’s going where so they can find roommates and not have to live with strangers. That is just another thing that annoys me. If I had gotten into a small, selective school, probably no one else from Wilson would be going there, and I could have a fresh start. Everyone would be in the same position of not knowing anyone, because that’s what it’s like when they only