Chosen (16 page)

“Can we come in?” Ana asked. “Just for a sec and then we'll leave.”

“Sure,” I said. “Do what you like.”

They unlatched Cricket's stall door and closed it behind them. I refused to stop what I was doing. Cricket took the bit from my palm, and I eased the bridle over her head.

“We're both sorry you overheard that,” Ana said. “If I were you, I'd never want to talk to either one of us again. I understand why you're upset and you should be. Brielle and I both made a mistake—we should have talked to you about the Hannah thing.”

“I would have felt completely betrayed if I'd walked in on that conversation,” Brielle said. “But beyond that, it would have felt like I couldn't trust my best friends. That would be worse than the actual conversation.”

I looked at both of them. I could hear how sorry they were now, but I couldn't shake what I'd seen and heard in the tack room. Brielle and Ana had once been my support system. I'd once needed them, and when I did, they'd been there for me. I wouldn't ever forget those girls. But the girls who stood before me—they looked confused. Like they weren't sure how to quite grow up.

“I wish you guys had talked to me about this earlier,” I said. “But you have to do whatever you want at school. Be friends with whomever you want. If that's Hannah, then it's Hannah.”

“You have to know that Ana and I never wanted to lose
you
as a best friend. No matter where you go—or don't,” Brielle said. Her eyes were wide as she looked at me. “It's
hard for us, thinking about you leaving. We want to cheer you on a thousand percent—”

“You did once,” I interrupted. “Both of you.”

“We'll be really sad when you leave,” Ana added. “We want you to go to Canterwood, and despite what you believe, we're sure you're going to get in. And then, we lose you.”

Ana's dark eyes got teary.

“Guys.” I stopped grooming Cricket and turned to look at them both. “Even if I did leave, you wouldn't have lost me. Besties forever, no matter where any of us are, remember? That's what we said, not too long ago.”

That made both of them smile.

“We were being stupid back there about the popularity thing. We were dumb and scared about people hating us for being friends with you. About losing you to Canterwood.”

I nodded, tears welling in my eyes. “It's a pretty awful feeling, seeing your best friends as strangers.”

“We hated it, too,” Brielle said. “We tried being those people for a little while. They were kind of jerks.”

I nodded. “Kind of?” I asked.

It had been a while since I'd laughed.

Ana and Brielle laughed, too.

“They were
really
awful,” Ana said. She smiled, despite the tears rolling down her face.

Will we be okay?” Ana asked, giving me a tentative smile.

“We might be,” I said. “Someday. But now we have to go explain to Kim why we just missed our entire lesson.”

Together, we left Cricket's stall.

AFTER SCHOOL, I CLIMBED OUT OF MY DAD'S
SUV.

One more day left! Thursday was finally over, which meant that finals were done.

Friday would be a completely random day. We had to clean out our desks and lockers, get summer reading and homework assignments, and
our
class got to have a pizza party at the end of the day because we'd all gotten good grades this year. Like anyone at Yates got bad grades!

People at school had been so wrapped up in finals and celebrating the end of the school year that no one paid any attention to me or the fact that I'd become a traitor outcast overnight.

Taylor had texted me after his last final, and he'd been beyond excited.

Taylor:

Duuude! Finals r over!!!

Lauren:

Do you believe it?!
We made it! Hello, 7
^th
grade!

Taylor:

We'll have 2 celebrate extra @ the dance
.

Lauren:

Sounds like a date!

Just thinking about our chat made me smile. Friday night's dance was exactly what I needed—time to have fun and wash the last horrible week of school away. It still wasn't sinking in that sixth grade was one day away from being over.

“I'm going to check the mail,” I told Dad.

“Okay, hon.” He took my heavy book bag from me and I walked down the driveway, taking my time.

I pulled my Chanel sunglasses, a gift from my Manhattan financier aunt, over my eyes and let the warm sunlight bathe my pale face.

I took off my cream-colored three-quarter sleeve knit cardigan, revealing my lacey yellow tank. I'd have to load up on the sunscreen today—good as it felt, my
ridiculously fair skin was already getting pink from ten seconds in the sun.

Our mailbox was stuffed with the usual—
The New Yorker
(Mom),
Sports Illustrated
(Dad),
TeenStyle
(me and Becca), bills, and junk mail.

I wasn't disappointed. I'd given up on waiting for a letter from Canterwood Crest Academy. I realized they'd probably already sent their acceptance letters to new students. The rejections would most likely trickle in later. I shifted the mail to my other arm. Dad's
Sports Illustrated
slipped out of my hands and, grumbling to myself, I bent over to pick it up.

Apparently, I'd dropped more than just one magazine, too. I blamed it on the sun. It had been so long since it had shown its face in Union, it was throwing me off. I looked down at the magazine, a couple of bills, and some junk-mail envelopes.

“Geez, Lauren!” I scolded myself. As I was gathering up the mail, I saw it.

It was heavy and creamy with a thick, expensive-feeling texture. Like one of those
“You've won a trip to the Caribbean!”
letters. It was facedown on the ground.

As if the envelope contained toxic material, I flipped it over onto the sidewalk with one finger. My eyes went
right to the return address. It almost made my heart stop.

CANTERWOOD CREST ACADEMY

Why was it so big? Everyone knew rejection letters were small—just simple, letter-sized envelopes. Unless . . . unless it was a super-fancy rejection. I mean, Canterwood was one of the most exclusive boarding schools in the country. Maybe they spared no expense—even for the losers.

I wished my heard would stop pounding—it was tricking my brain! The last thing I needed right now was to undo
months
of preparation. I'd finally convinced myself—and everyone around me—that there was no chance for me at Canterwood. Well, except for Brielle and Ana, they'd never believed I wasn't getting in, but that was just them.

Oh, and Taylor. But he was just being supportive. Plus, he was a swimmer. He didn't know that kind of accident I'd had was a career-killer for equestrians once people found out. I mean, everyone knew that.

Except for Becca, of course. She was just trying to spare my feelings, though, telling me that mistakes like that only made me a better rider. But she was my
sister
. What else was she going to say? “You're doomed forever, have a great life?”

And, of course, my parents were similarly supportive. Who told their own children they were destined for certain rejection for the rest of their lives?

Okay, so those were all the people I was close to. So what? Who knew my own destiny better than
me
?

Thump thump thumpthumpthumpthump!
Stupid heart!

I sighed and stood up, leaving the envelope on the driveway. The only way to find out was to pick it up. But . . . this was ridiculous. My future was sort of in there, on the ground. I'd either be Lauren Towers, enrolling at Canterwood, or I'd (more likely) be Lauren Towers, going back to Yates.

I stared at the envelope for at least five more minutes before I picked it up, holding it between two fingers.

Just take it inside and open it with Mom and Dad
, I told myself. I wanted their support when I opened it. Not that I needed support. I mean, Yates was a far cry from a life sentence in juvie. Either way, I'd be happy.

Still, I walked at a snail's pace up the winding driveway. I reached the porch steps and stopped.

This was something I wanted to do on my own. It always had been. So what was I waiting for?

I sat down and dropped the rest of the mail beside me. My fingers were shaking so much (Why? Hadn't I just
spent months convincing myself that I was better off here in Union?) that I almost gave myself a paper cut opening the envelope. The gold lining in the envelope reflected against the sunlight.

I froze. I couldn't. Everything was going to change (no matter what the outcome) the second I opened the letter, and there was no way around that fact. No way to convince myself otherwise.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I pulled the letter out of the envelope and unfolded it. Peeking between the fingers of my right hand, I looked at the letter.

Canterwood Crest Academy
107 Greenwich Drive
East Brookfield, Connecticut

Lauren Towers

May 16
^th

28 Dalton Road

Union, Connecticut

Dear Ms. Towers:

Thank you for your application to Canterwood Crest Academy. As you are well aware, our world-renowned
Academy receives thousands of applications from talented students across the country and internationally. This year's application pool for fall was exceptionally strong.

We have carefully reviewed your information and have given considerable thought to the possibility of your future as a student at Canterwood Crest Academy. This process is one which we at the Academy do not take lightly. Our students are the best and brightest in the nation—many of whom have gone on to become doctors, lawyers, Olympians, and future leaders of our country. Many have won prestigious awards, such as the Pulitzer and the Nobel Peace Prize, not to mention numerous national awards within our graduates' chosen fields of practice.

Acceptance to Canterwood Crest Academy is not only an honor, it is a symbol of each candidate's potential to become one of the greatest students, most successful athletes, and most prestigious scholars.

It is with great pleasure that we are offering you a spot this fall.

To those who have been accepted, we would be honored to have you in attendance. You have already attained a goal that most are not considered talented enough to attain. Congratulations on taking the first step on your journey toward becoming one of the most sought-after scholars in the nation. Your journey has only just begun, and your acceptance is only the beginning of your future as a role model and leader.

Please let us know at your earliest
convenience of your decision, and we look forward to hearing from you.