“Mom, tell me what to say. Seriously.
Just... tell me what words I can say to make you calm down about it.”
“I don’t want to calm down. I want you to stop being in pain.”
Well, that’s not how it works, okay? I have to go read for history.
I stood up, but before I could get to my room, she said, “Speaking of which,
Mr. Myers told me today that your essay on the Columbian Exchange was the best he’d seen in all his years of teaching.”
“He’s been teaching like two years,” I said. “Four, but still,” she said.
You’re going places, Aza Holmes. Big places.”
“Did you ever hear of Amherst?” I asked. “Where?”
“Amherst. It’s this college in Massachusetts. It’s really good.
It’s ranked really high. I think I might want to go there—if I get in.”
Mom started to say something but swallowed it, and then sighed.
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