Page 9 of Take Care, Taylor

Sighing, I put my phone away and stepped out of the bathroom stall.

Walking over to the mirror, I stared at my reflection as the walls pulsated with the dance floor’s music.

My glittery gray eyeshadow was layered too thick for tears to fall through.

Tonight was my celebration night for being valedictorian of my university, for being the first person in our campus history to be named as a Fulbright, Rhodes, and Embassy scholar, but the one I’d been dreaming of for years was still ghosting me.

Maybe my admissions essays weren’t strong enough…

“No, that can’t be…” I muttered to myself, tearing a tissue from the box. “Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”

“What the hell are you doing in here, Audrey?” My cousin Cecelia burst into the bathroom. “It’s been twenty minutes!”

“Nothing, I was just…” I feigned a smile. “I was just thinking about some things.”

“What a coincidence.” She moved closer to me. “I was thinking about some things, too. Mainly, like how freakin’ lame you are.”

“Thank you, Cece.”

“You were checking your email in here, weren’t you?”

“No, I was not. I was just thinking like I said.”

“Give me your phone.” She held out her hand.

“I left it out there on our table.”

“Bullshit, Audrey.” She narrowed her eyes. “Give me your goddamn phone.”

I stared at her, weighing my options. I could knock her down and get out of this club within ten seconds, and then I’d be free to spend my night how I wanted: in pajamas, with my constant refreshing only bothering my kitten and no one else.

Before I could consider making a run for it, I remembered that she drove us here.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Audrey.” She wiggled her fingers. “Now.”

“Okay, fine.” I handed it over. “I was just, you know, checking before I sent in my intention letter for nursing school.”

“You’re still waffling on that?” She tucked my phone into her purse. “I thought the plan was clear: gap year to enjoy life, and then nursing school because the starving-author life isn’t for you.”

“Gap year” only if I didn’t get into the program.“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

“Well, please stick to it and stop keeping everyone waiting to celebrate you.”

I nodded and followed her out into the club. Strobe lights and heavy bass greeted me, making me remember exactly whyI’d avoided clubs as much as possible during my undergraduate years.

As we approached the booth where five of my classmates were standing, Cecelia lifted a glass of wine.

“Okay, now… Cheers to Audrey—for all four years on the dean’s list!”

They cheered, and I smiled.

“And for getting into every single graduate program she applied to!”

Almost every graduate program…I stared at my wine.

“Raise your damn glass, Audrey.”

“Shouldn’t you amend the toast first?” I asked. “I don’t want to celebrate a fake achievement.”