Uncovering You: The Contract (6 page)

It’s mostly an exercise in creative writing—not dissimilar to a college admissions essay. Nearly all the submissions end up being wasted work. There are only twenty professors in the faculty. That means twenty nominated spots.

From those, a selection committee picks the five most promising entries. These are then publicized and voted on by the faculty members of the entire college.

“…But I didn’t even apply!” I protest. “How is that even possible?”

Fey’s eyes sparkle. “Robin found the essay you wrote after you printed it and threw it in the trash. He read the first few paragraphs and thought it was brilliant.”

Robin keeps his eyes glued to the floor, but it’s not enough to hide his growing grin. “Sorry,” he mumbles, shrugging his shoulders and trying to look penitent.

So
that’s
the reason he’s been refusing to look at me all this time!

“It’s okay,” I say, shaking my head. “But I don’t understand. What I wrote was a piece of garbage. I spent one night on it before realizing it was a colossal waste of time. My essay didn’t even have a conclusion!”

“Well, after I read it, I showed it to Sonja.” Fey gives me a mischievous look. “And she thought it was brilliant, too. We kind of, um, improvised the ending… and then submitted it on your behalf.”

I look at her in disbelief. “You
what
?”

“You were so busy we decided not to trouble you,” she says quickly. “We thought it would be a nice surprise if you got it.” She squeals. “And you did!”

I’m stunned. “Fey, I don’t… I don’t know what to say.” Even though she and Sonja did it without asking, I don’t feel affronted in the least. I am more in awe that Fey and Robin and Sonja
all
thought my essay was good enough to submit. And I am absolutely blown away not only by some professor selecting my entry as his nomination, but by the freaking
selection committee
deciding that what I wrote in one night was one of the five best applications!

“Who nominated me?”

“Professor Hickler!” she exclaims.

I look at her like she’s insane. “Hickler? I’ve never had a professor hate me more. He gave me my lowest grade last semester. And, I might add, that wasn’t for a lack of effort on my part.”

Fey giggles. “You say that, but you still earned the highest grade in his class.” She winks. “I know. I saw the curve.”

“So, you and Sonja went to him, with my paper… and said what? Students are supposed to petition their nominations individually.”

She waves my concern away. “We made up a sob story about you coming down with a nasty case of swine flu and being stuck in quarantine.”

“But I was in class that week!”

“I know that. So did Professor Hickler. But the story gave enough plausible credibility for him to bend the rules.”

“I don’t believe this,” I mutter. “Fey, you’re amazing! Both you and Robin are amazing! Where’s Sonja? Does she know?”

“Not yet.” Fey winks. “You’re the first to find out, aside from the
Daily
editors.” She pauses in thought, then adds in a stage whisper, “From what Robin’s gathered, you’re the front-running nominee.”

Chapter Fourteen

(Present day)

I come to with a gasp.

Cold,
I think.
So cold.

I open my eyes. The tray of food’s still there, with that mocking spotlight shining bright upon it. And the contract. Always, the goddamn contract.

How did it come to this?
I wonder. I’m starving. I’m dying.
How did I fall so far?

It all began with that prize. That is what brought me to California. If I had known back then what it would lead to…

But of course I didn’t. No one could.

I hug my arms around myself and wonder how Fey and Sonja are holding up. I wonder when they last thought of me. They were both crushed when I called and told them I’d be staying in Cali for the year, working on my internship.

They still think that’s what I’m doing. When it fell through, and I was stuck with no income, no home, and nothing but loans and debts to my name, my blasted pride prevented me from calling them and admitting the hard truth.

I bet they think I’m working hard while enjoying the life I’ve always imagined for myself. They probably think I have it made with my $120,000 contract from the consulting firm. They probably think I’ve
forgotten
about them because I haven’t called for so long.

The last thought fills me with sadness.

But taking the contract was a no brainer. Money like that is only offered to a fresh-faced, Ivy League graduate once in a blue moon. It is
never
offered to an intern—especially to one who hasn’t even earned her diploma yet.

I knew it was too good to be true.

But, when I held the offer sheet in my hands, when I felt the weight of the paper, and imagined the freedom that that money would bring… I couldn’t say, “No.”

It seemed like such an easy decision back then. Sign the contract. Take a year’s leave of absence. Return to Yale next fall. Reappear in 2014 with a huge chunk of change written off my debt from the earnings.

It seemed easy until it all fell through.

Chapter Fifteen

(Five months ago)

It’s May. The sun is bright and the birds are singing.

But campus feels like a graveyard.

Today is the final day of exams. Everywhere you look, sleep-deprived students are trudging to and fro like cattle. The lucky few who had their last exams last week have long since abandoned campus.

Not me. Lilly Ryder is one of the zombies.

Fey is chattering in my ear. She is one of the only people I see with a smile on her face. It’s been plastered on there ever since Robin proposed last weekend.

She said, “Yes.”

“Lilly. Lilly, are you even listening to me?”

“Huh? What? I…” I shake my head. “No.”

She makes an annoyed click with her tongue. “I said, since Robin’s parents live in Oregon, when I go there this summer, we’ll take a road trip down the coast and visit you.” She beams. “Isn’t that great?”

I fake a smile. Normally, I’d be thrilled with her exuberance. But, today my mind is full of worry.

After today’s exam, I have exactly two hours to pack and rush to the airport. The little commuter plane will carry me to Logan International, where I have to run—no, outright
sprint
—to get on my connecting flight to San Francisco.

Even if I end up being seated next to a mother and her bawling baby, the six-hour flight will be a blessed relief from the
GO-GO-GO
bustle I’ve endured on campus for the past two weeks.

April was a whirlwind. I won the Barker Prize. Officially, the prestige of it is reward enough, but one unspoken perk—that I only learned of
after
I had accepted the certificate—is that winning puts you on the radar of the best consulting firms in the country.

In the span of one week, I received three different, unsolicited internship offers from the most prestigious firms in America. Forget Bain and McKinsey. These were firms where the only way in is if you are a son or daughter of a managing partner.

To say I was blinded by the offers is an understatement.

I had never considered a summer internship before. I had always preferred to work at some minimal wage outfit that would let my mind lie fallow during the precious summer months. Flipping burgers might not offer ideal working conditions, but I needed the time to recharge for another year of school.

The first two offers I rejected immediately because they demanded too many hours. But the third… the third caught my eye.

It came from a boutique firm called Corfu Consulting. It was in glorious, sunny Palo Alto. I would be set up with a team in charge of creating new advertising campaigns for the richest companies in the world.

I’ve never had a chance to flex my creative muscles before. The internship was everything I aspired toward. I would work with a professional team consisting of brilliant people. I would have a chance to apply my psychology education in the real world.

I pride myself on understanding people. I pride myself on knowing what makes them tick. I could channel all the insights I’ve gleaned from both my studies
and
from real life into creating the best advertising campaign the firm has ever seen.

In short, the third offer was perfect.

But accepting came with its own set of challenges. Suddenly, I was responsible not only for my six college course, but also for planning and officially signing my summer contract. I received phone calls from people at the firm congratulating me. Two Yale alumni who were former employees took me to dinner. And I had to write out an entire acceptance speech for the Barker Prize…

I did that the morning of the awards ceremony.

To say that I feel like I’ve been trampled by a herd of cows is an understatement.

“Well, aren’t you excited?” Fey prompts.

“Thrilled,” I sigh.

She stops and takes my arm, turning me toward her. “Lilly.” She says my name with conviction. “Are you sure the pressure’s not getting to you? You’ve always worked so hard. You deserve a break. This summer doesn’t
have
to be about work for you, you know. Think about it—this is the last summer we have as
kids
before the responsibilities of the real world come crashing down on our shoulders. Maybe we can go backpacking across Europe instead—just you, me, and Sonja? My parents will happily pay—”

“No.” I stop her. “Fey, I can’t take any more of their money. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Come on! They love you. That’s what family friends are for. Remember New Year’s?”

I do. Fey’s parents invited me and Sonja to visit, then surprised us by an all-expenses paid trip to Whistler, British Columbia, for a week-long ski trip. Sonja and I had no idea it was coming. We suspect Fey knew.

“Yes,” I say, “and I still feel rotten about not being able to pay them back yet.”

Fey makes that irritated noise again. “How many times do I have to tell you? You don’t owe them anything. Family friends do that sort of thing for each other.”

“Not where I come from,” I mutter. Fey frowns, and I quickly continue, “I can’t back off now, Fey. I need the money to pay off my loans. Can you imagine how bad it’ll be if eighty percent of my salary goes toward them for five, hell, even ten years after graduating? At least this way I’ll get a head start.”

Fey chews the inside of her lip in thought.

“Okay,” she says finally. “I know how determined you are to make it on your own.” She squeezes me in a quick hug. “But if anything goes wrong, I want to be the first person you call, understand?”

“I promise,” I smile.

Chapter Sixteen

(Present day)

I did not renege on that promise.

I just avoided it. When things went wrong, I didn’t call anyone at all.

A little bit of saliva goes down the wrong way and I start to cough violently. My insides spasm and scream. I feel raw, stretched, and very, very thin. My whole body is wasting away in this prison.

I keep coughing, shaking with convulsions, until the fit finally goes away. My throat feels scratchy and blistered. I taste metal on my tongue. I don’t need any light to see that I’m coughing up blood.

I pride myself on understanding people?

I sneer at the naivety I once had. You can read every psychology book in the world and still be blindsided by the cruelty of the human heart.

I am at my very limit. I am a woman on the edge of a precipice. I know that I only have one choice right now:

Die, or sign the contract.

Chapter Seventeen

(One month ago)

I am pissed. Seriously, I’m pissed.

I am pacing around the posh downtown apartment given to me by the consulting firm, shocked and angered by what I’ve just heard.

“Miss, are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m still here!” I snap into the receiver. “I’m here, in downtown Palo Alto, because
your firm
offered me employment. Where the hell else would I be?”

“I understand this must be a trying time for you. Your severance package includes specific benefits—”

“Don’t you DARE try to sell me on those benefits!” I explode. “I can read as well as anyone. Seven days’ notice? Are you fucking kidding me? That’s seven days to—” I can feel my temper getting the better of me.

I stop, take a deep breath, and continue in a sickly sweet voice, “Seven days to ‘vacate the premises,’ which is as good as an eviction. Where am I supposed to go after, huh? Tell me that. The school semester has already started, and Yale doesn’t accept late registrations!”

It’s no use. By the end of the sentence, I’m screaming at her again.

“Miss Ryder, I am simply relaying the information provided to me. You understand that I have no authority to change things?” The tone of voice the woman uses to pose the question is clearly intended to make me feel like an imbecile.

“And
you
understand that I will not just lie down and take this type of treatment like a beaten dog! Tell your boss that he should expect me on the doorstep of his office tomorrow morning demanding compensation for an unlawful breach of contract!”

I jam my thumb into the onscreen “end” icon, then hurl the phone across the room. It dents the wall and falls to the ground, shattered.

Good.
I feel like breaking things.

That was undoubtedly the worst phone call of my life.

I fling myself onto the couch, bury my head in the pillows, then emit one long, drawn-out scream of utter frustration.

Three weeks ago I was a key member of a professional team put together to design a worldwide ad campaign for the client company’s upcoming launch of a new tech product. A combination of Apple TV, Roku, and all the top-set videogame consoles that have been so popular since the Xbox launched in 2005. It had all the potential to take the world by storm.

I
was a key member of the lead team for the entire ad campaign.
I
was the one with the most valuable insights, the most exciting ideas.
Everyone
on the team recognized that. I got along splendidly with my coworkers. And even though I was just an intern, and they were full-time employees of the firm, not once did I feel disconnected from them.