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It’s stopped raining by the time we leave the pavilion, but Aunt Jojo insists on driving out to pick us up anyway. She’s draped

towels over the seats, just like my parents always did after beach days and swim meets. I buckle in behind her, laying out

my and Natalie’s prize haul on the seat beside me. Four Dum-Dum lollipops and one crookedly stitched pink plushie that might

be a dog. Maybe a rat. That’s what five hundred tickets gets you in this economy.

“I’m digging the seat covers,” I say.

Jojo smiles. “I had a feeling.”

“We love feelings.” I smile back.

Which is when I realize Natalie’s staring at me. Like—fully twisted around in her seat, studying my face like it’s a road

map. I make a goofy face at her. “What?”

Natalie blinks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not fight for shotgun before.”

“It’s called being generous!”

“Generous, huh?”

I toss her our little pink crooked rat dog. “Look, there I go again!”

“We have joint custody! That’s not generosity.”

“So, Natalie,” Jojo says, “I heard a rumor about you.”

“Is this about you-know-who?” I make a face.

“Ooh, I don’t think so.” Jojo waggles her eyebrows at me in the rearview. “But if there’s gossip, I want it—”

“Wait, what’s the rumor?” asks Nat.

“Right! So.” Jojo pauses, turning into the driveway—we’re already home. “Mark says you guys will be at Bader in the fall.”

“Oh—yup!” Nat replies.

“Nice.” Jojo high-fives her. “Did Zora tell you I went there?”

“Wait, really?”

Jojo laughs. “I can’t believe she didn’t mention it!”

“Zora never talks about college,” I explain, leaning forward.

“Or grades,” Natalie adds.

Zora’s always been weird about that stuff. Not academics in general, of course. She’s fine with those. More than fine. She’s

the dweebiest, most logical AP-Calculus-loving brainiac I’ve met in my life. It’s just that the competitive aspects make her

twitchy. Even bringing up East Seneca makes her palpably uncomfortable. My guess is that she feels weird about the fact that

she’ll be on the full-honors STEM track, and I won’t be. As if that’s something I even care about.

I mean, yeah, there’s a not-so-slim chance she’ll replace me with some scraggly beardo dude who spends all day getting high

and making up theorems. Or refurbishing computers. Hacking into the mainframe. God only knows what Beardo’s capable of. But

in terms of me feeling jealous or competitive about it? I didn’t even apply for honors, so who knows what Zora’s smoking.

I’m just amazed all four of us will be in the same city next year.

It’s the ultimate coup. My greatest triumph. I don’t care how much Mom wants me to stay closer to home. Or how hard Dad wants to side-eye me about it.

I still remember his face when the acceptance letter arrived.

He’d appeared in my bedroom doorway with a thick, packet-sized envelope. “Mail for you, kiddo!” he’d said, a little too brightly.

“East Seneca, huh?”

I’d swiped it out of his hand. “What’s wrong with East Seneca?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it. I’m just—surprised!”

“Okay...” I turned the letter around in my hands. An envelope this size had to mean good news. It’s not like college form

rejections came with campus handbooks and bumper stickers.

Dad was still watching me from the doorway. “Are you going to open it?”

“Sure. Sorry, you didn’t seem that invested.”

“What? I’m invested!” He stepped inside, scooting in beside me on the bed. “Just didn’t know East Seneca was a contender.

Last I heard, you were wanting to stick closer to home.”

“No, Mom wants me to stick closer to home.” I shrugged, ripping through the seal. “Hey, look. I got in. Yay.”

“Heck yeah! That’s amazing.” He hugged me sideways. “So, you’re thinking Ithaca, huh?”

I winced. “Mom’s going to be so pissed.”

“Pissed that you got into college?”

“Dad.” I looked at him. “It’s like five hours away. Mom thinks New Rochelle is far.”

“She just knows how much we’re going to miss you!”

“Okay, there’s missing people,” I said, “and then there’s melting down at the slightest whiff of change.”

“Come on—mild tantrum at best.” He laughed, glancing down at the packet. “Well, tell me about East Seneca. What do you love about it?”

“Um, it’s a good school. The campus seems pretty. Good location.”

He looked at me, a little too knowingly. “Your friends will be in Ithaca.”

“Yeah, but that’s not why I want to go there.”

Dad raised his eyebrows.

“I mean, it’s one reason.”

He nudged me sideways. “But it’s your mom who can’t handle change, right?”

“I can handle change. I’m just choosing not to handle it.”

To be honest, I still don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Plus, it’s not like life will be exactly the same. It’s still a change in backdrop.

I can already picture it: rainy dorm room Fridays. Me, humming along to Natalie’s guitar while Mark annihilates me at Mario

Kart. Zora on the bed with her laptop and noise-canceling headphones, ignoring all of us in favor of homework. Maybe we’ll

meet downtown on Saturdays, when the weather doesn’t suck. We’ll wander through the Commons until Ithaca feels as familiar

as Larchmont Village, as downtown Scarsdale.

And if I hold on to my friend group, so what? They’re my whole entire world.

Like, maybe it’s fine to keep a good thing going, you know? Maybe some things don’t need to be fixed.