Small Admissions Page 15

  “I see,” he said, working that into the equation. “Then maybe you’re bringing your work home; you’re social-working your friends, and you haven’t asked them if that’s what they want. Let your friends be in charge of their own bad decisions. What’s-her-name? Vicki? She’s obviously got something going on with your cousin, and that’s her choice, not yours. You can’t stop her from sleeping with someone, even if her actions are going to hurt your friend, that other girl—Chloe.”

  “Kate. No, wait, you’re so off base here. Vicki is not sleeping with Robert.”

  “Of course she is. It’s obvious. What other reason could she possibly have for bringing a guy who’s persona non grata to a party unless it’s to bring him back into the fold so that he becomes acceptable again, so that she can sleep with him aboveboard, except that she already is sleeping with him, and now she wants retro-approval for that, probably from you because she clearly doesn’t care about the other girl. Kate. Think about it.”

  I sat there trying to process the information he’d hit me with.

  “Oh,” he went on, “and the girl? Vicki? She’s not just sleeping with your cousin. She actually likes him. If it were only about sex or if it was a one-time thing, she wouldn’t bother involving her friends. She’s probably in a real relationship with him and wants it to become serious.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “That’s my opinion, anyway.”

  “No way.”

  “It makes sense, though, right? I’m only trying to help.”

  “Then stop speculating about all this, and meet Kate,” I said. “That would be helpful. What’s the harm?”

  “I don’t want any part of this mess. I work with crazy people all day long.”

  “Touché.”

  “So you don’t work in admissions?”

  “No, Kate does.”

  “And she wants to grow vegetables?”

  “No, I do.”

  “We need to start over.”

  I felt encouraged. “Kate works in admissions. She’s a city girl, smart as hell, and a total romantic. She’s on my short list of favorite people in the entire world. She’s a gem and you probably don’t deserve her.”

  I remembered saying the exact same words to Robert on the phone the night before Kate flew to France, trying to talk him out of dumping a girl who was way, way too good for him to begin with. He was mumbling words at me I couldn’t understand. “Speak up,” I’d said.

  “Eeet’s just not going to work for me,” Robert had repeated, and I could picture him shrugging, feet up on his coffee table, the stupid Seine out his window. “You know me, Chloe. Giving zings up for someone else? Eeet’s not in my nature.”

  “Robert?” I had asked. “Why are you whispering?”

  I smiled at my new friend, who was looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

  “This has been a very peculiar date,” he said.

  “So you’ll meet her?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure,” he said, “but I’ll think about it.”

  ISEE SCORES

  Student: Annie Allsworth

  Verbal Reasoning: 7

  Reading Comprehension: 8

  Quantitative Reasoning: 9

  Mathematics Achievement: 9

  ESSAY: In the space below please describe your idea of a perfect day.

  There are many days I would consider wonderful, but on a perfect day I would spend time with family, read a good book, and help others.

  I love to spend time with my family. There are so many activities we do together, like skiing, snorkeling, going to museums in France, and helping out at a soup kitchen. My mom always makes sure we do things that are a good use of our time, and she always tells me every day how special I am. When I am with my family, I feel very warm and happy.

  On my perfect day I would find time to settle down with a good book. The Carcassonne Castle books are my favorite at the moment because I love reading about olden times and kings and queens. Reading makes me feel good and it is something that I do for at least twenty-five minutes every day. When we are at our house in the Hamptons, I get in the hammock by the beach and read for hours. A day without reading would make me sad because I love to read!

  Finally on my perfect day, I would want to spend time helping others. There are so many people in the world who need our help, like Africa, and I would spend time feeding children or cleaning a park or building a school or finding clean water or going to the soup kitchen. It is important for people like me who have so much to spend time with people who have nothing. That way you know how lucky you are.

  In conclusion, it would be wonderful to have a perfect day where I could spend time with my family, read a good book, and help others. That would make me very fulfilled.

  To: Henry Bigley

  From: Mel Branson

  Subject: 6th grade applicant Gus Smith

  * * *

  Hello Henry,

  I am writing regarding a wonderful student I am currently placing for 6th grade, Gus Smith. You will likely note in Gus’s otherwise stellar first semester report card from Horizons (which you will receive sometime this month) the words “Three Day Disciplinary Suspension.” There was an incident last week, and I feel—as do his parents, Nancy and Sam—that it is appropriate and fair for me to give you Gus’s side of the story.

  Gus has repeatedly told his teacher and the principal (this is documented) that there is a girl in his class who torments and distracts him during lessons. This girl has been continually poking at him, teasing him, and laughing at him. It was “harmless” according to the teacher, but beyond aggravating for Gus. The other day she was taunting him about his personal choice to wear pink socks to school, but this time she got a rather large group of girls to join in with her at recess and lunch. They targeted him throughout the remainder of that day and began again the following morning. He has marks on his arms from where they pinched him. The teacher did nothing to help him, and his patience finally wore out. He issued a stern ultimatum—in so many words—“please stop it or else.” His teacher wrote in the report you will receive that she also heard expletives and insults, but it is hard for me to believe any young boy would use phrases like “vicious thug,” “two-bit whore,” and “dim-witted troglodyte.”

  The girl told her parents that she perceived Gus’s ultimatum as a threat against her life. She “feared for her safety,” which is beyond ridiculous. It was self-defense, nothing more. However, the principal decided that Gus would stay home from school for a few days to write a letter of apology to the girl. Gus was told that he will not receive such a letter in return as the girl’s parents claim she has nothing to apologize for. In my view, Horizons handled this situation poorly, particularly as the teacher seems oblivious as to what goes on in her own classroom. I’m sure Hudson would have dealt with it in a more nuanced and just manner. I can assure you, Gus is a sensitive, unusually interesting young man, and I am sure he will impress you if you keep an open mind.

  As Hudson is one of the family’s top choices, I simply ask that you not hold this incident against him.

  Please contact me if I can answer any questions regarding this or anything else in Gus’s application.

  Best regards,

  Mel

  To: Angela

  From: Nancy

  Subject: Your sister and Hudson Day School admissions

  * * *

  Hi there! Hey! Happy New Year! Wow, is it January already? Where does the time go?! I was thinking it would be such fun to get together sometime soon. This week would work for me.

  On a different note—do you remember when you offered to have me meet your sister who works at Hudson?—Well, I would just really love to take you up on that! I can meet wherever you like—my treat, of course—whenever it is convenient for you! I don’t work, so I can be very flexible, as long as it doesn’t conflict with my personal training session. That’s the only thing set in stone. Soon would be best simply because of the timing
of the application process. Gus, Sam, and I have our interview there next week, and it would be great to pick her brain before then. Gus had a little hiccup at school, a minor misunderstanding with another student, and I’d like to ask your sister how best to gloss over it. I know you said she’s new there and may not know too much yet, but I’d like to meet her anyway.

  All the best for a Happy New Year!

  Nancy

  Kate, Henry, and Maureen were becoming a well-coordinated team, reading files, answering emails, updating the electronic tracker, and finishing up the last few weeks of interviews. It was halfway through the school year, and Kate was starting to feel like she understood how things worked. She handled phone calls with a professional and friendly tone and entered testing data with accuracy. She helped file away hundreds of packets of admissions materials and had the paper cuts to prove it.

  She was gaining confidence, in large part because she spent frequent afternoons and occasional evenings with Henry, talking about everything from the kindergarten art show to the middle school musical to the college office. He seemed determined to get her up to speed.

  Tours were now fun. Kate walked large groups of families through the school, introducing them to teachers and students, like she was a White House tour guide, running into the president himself. And the First Lady and the chief of staff. “Now isn’t this a happy surprise? This is Ms. Banter, the head of our English department. She’s an inspiring teacher who does a particularly fascinating set of lectures on Civil War poetry for our sixth-graders.”

  “Oh, look! Over here in the lab—this is an eighth-grade science class, preparing to do an astronomy lesson that promotes an understanding of the ratio of distances between planets.”

  “Hello, Coach Stafford! These families were just asking me about athletics offerings for middle schoolers. Anything you want to tell them about the PE program?”

  “Hey there, Avery! Nice job in the basketball game yesterday—way to go! Oh—can you tell our visitors what you’re doing in sixth-grade history this week? I heard something interesting about a civil rights debate.”

  Kate had a regular paycheck, a busy schedule, and lively workdays that involved constant socialization. No more solitary, silent days of cleaning up raw data in a fluorescently lit lab space. No more solitary, depressing days of watching Sex and the City reruns and lolling on the couch. Instead, she was involved in conversations all day long, talking with kids, eating lunch with teachers, and spending hours with prospective families.

  “How do you size people up like you do?” Maureen asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You talked to that family in the lobby this morning and said I better watch out for them.”

  “The short kid with the weird boy-bangs?”

  “What a hairdo.”

  “I think he’s trying to cover up his trichotillomania,” Kate said.

  “What?”

  Kate shrugged. “I don’t know. I was just guessing.”

  “I interviewed the family, and that poor boy is one screwed-up little psycho. And the hair, my God. What did you say he has?”

  “Trichotillomania?”

  “Is that a fancy word for hideous hairstyle?”

  “Hair pulling. It’s an impulse control thing. He had a huge gap in one of his eyebrows that was filled in with pencil. I’m thinking he got the bangs to hide it.”

  “That’s what that was?”

  “It’s a pretty interesting disorder. I’m not being mean. I’m just being descriptive.”

  “I’m being mean. That kid is a freak, and he asked weird questions, like is anyone going to know what he keeps in his locker, and what kind of punishments do kids get for breaking rules, like he was hoping to hear bare-ass spanking. I got a bad vibe from him.”

  “Sounds like he has anxiety. Poor kid.”

  “Poor me. I had to spend half an hour with Spanky, trying to get him to say something normal, but he just twitched around in his chair and told me stories about his pet turtle.”

  “But he had a tic, didn’t he? Made faces like he was yawning?”

  “That’s what that was? I just thought he was tired.”

  “Could be a neurological issue, like Tourette’s syndrome. If that’s what he has, a stressful situation, like an interview, can cause an increase in involuntary movements. And hair pulling might be his way of dealing with stress. I wrote a paper in college about some patients who pull out their hair and then eat it; they can actually get matted hairballs in their digestive tracts and die.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “It’s true. I’ll send you an article.”

  “Please don’t. I’ve heard enough for one lifetime.” Maureen looked through the stack of files she was holding. “You know, you’re not nearly as bad at this job as I thought you were going to be.” They’d gotten in the habit of visiting each other a few times a day to talk about anything from applicants to shoes to YouTube videos. “But I told you not to fall in love.” Maureen found the file she was looking for and dropped it on Kate’s desk.

  “Claudia?”

  “She needs a full ride. And she won’t rise to the top.”

  “What does that mean?” Kate asked.

  “You’ll see when we go into committee.”

  “No, but I really want her to come here. And she’s so smart.”

  “Don’t fall in love.”

  “It’s too late,” Kate told her.

  “Someone certainly likes you. Who sent those?”

  Kate opened the box of handcrafted European chocolates on her desk and offered them to Maureen. “Chloe.”

  “That girl has a thing for you. Chocolates, flowers. Has she sent you lingerie yet? Because Valentine’s Day is right around the corner.” Maureen bit into a piece of chocolate. “Your girlfriend must have a lot of money.”

  “Not at all,” Kate said. “She’s just incredibly nice.”

  “No one’s that nice. I told Henry I didn’t think you were gay because you have a hang-up on that old boyfriend. Not that we were talking about you behind your back or anything, but we were.” She put another chocolate in her mouth. “If you ask me, that girl is hot for you. If you’re not interested, you should tell her so that she can stop running up her credit card on you. These chocolates are pricey.”

  “We’re just friends.”

  “Then she wants something from you. Does she have a kid she’s trying to get into school?”

  “No, she doesn’t even have a boyfriend.”

  “So what does she want, then? Think.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she just wants to make me happy.”

  “Wrong answer.” Maureen ate another chocolate, and Kate had one, too, so Maureen wouldn’t feel bad about it. They chewed while Kate thought that over.

  “She shouldn’t, but she blames herself for a little breakdown I had. He’s her cousin.”

  “Who?”

  “Robert. The guy who dumped me.”

  “I already told you,” Maureen said, “I don’t want to hear about him.”

  “I was only saying—”

  “Breakup stories bore the shit out of me. If you meet a new man, I’m happy to listen, but I look forward, not back.”

  “There’s nothing to say—I’m completely over him.”

  “Good, because I’m not going to sit around listening to you crying. You’re young, employed, and thin, so don’t feel sorry for yourself.”

  “I wish someone had said that to me a year ago.”

  “And never let some guy mess with your head.”

  “I don’t. I didn’t. I mean, I was feeling sorry for myself, but it wasn’t only because of the guy.”

  “Good,” Maureen said, “because I’m trying hard not to dislike you. No time for bullshit. January is the worst. And if you think this is bad, wait until we get to February. And March is no picnic, either. Henry and I refer to this as the dark time.”

  “You keep telling me that, and you’re making me nervous
.”

  Kate’s phone rang.

  “Back to work,” Maureen said suddenly and walked out. Kate swallowed the rest of the chocolate and picked up the phone.

  “Kate? Silvia Blake here. I’d like a word.”

  The name Silvia rang a bell, but she was over a hundred interviews into the season, and she struggled to remember who she was. Funny how some people assumed they were so memorable. She put her on speaker and checked her laptop to find the write-up. Ah yes, of course. Her very first interview. Silvia. Alum, old husband, Dillon’s parents.

  “We got the scores, Dillon’s ISEE scores,” she said and laughed uncomfortably. “I was wondering if you’d seen them yet.”

  Kate had seen them. Maureen and Henry had passed the report back and forth in fits of laughter. Maureen put Dillon Blake in first place for both world’s dumbest child and shittiest essay of the decade, while Kate had said, “Ahh, come on. He’s just a kid.” Maureen had made a mad face at her and walked away.

  “I haven’t seen the report,” Kate lied to Silvia on the phone, “but I’m sure it’s in his file already.”

  “Well, Kate, let me just start by saying how much Kenneth and I enjoyed meeting you last October and how sure we are that Dillon would be a star at Hudson. He’s a perfect fit for you. You said so yourself.”

  “I remember saying there’s a process . . .”

  “In any case, Dillon’s having a great semester, but something seems to have gone wrong with the ISEE testing. His scores aren’t correct.” She laughed again. “I mean, they can’t be. The machine or computer or something—it was off that day. On the fritz. There’s just no way Dillon did poorly. He’s very smart. Kenneth’s daughter, Bailey, isn’t nearly as smart as Dillon, and she got eights and nines. This just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Have you called the testing company?” Kate asked, recalling Henry’s lesson on standardized testing debacles. “Sometimes students mismark their bubble sheets; they get off by one question and that throws off the whole test.”