Always and Forever, Lara Jean
Page 43
I let out a sigh, and Kitty looks up from her computer and says, “What are you sighing about so loudly?”
“I miss . . . Christmas.” I bite into another slice of peach.
She brightens. “So do I! I think we should get a few deer to go in our front yard this year. Not the cheap kind, the classy wire kind that come covered in lights.”
I sigh again and set down the can. “Sure.” The syrup is starting to feel heavy in my stomach.
“Quit sighing!”
“Why does sighing feel so good?” I muse.
Kitty heaves a big sigh. “Well, it’s basically the same thing as breathing. And it feels good to breathe. Air is delicious.”
“It is, isn’t it?” I spear another slice of peach. “I wonder where you buy those kinds of deer. Target will probably sell them.”
“We should go to that store the Christmas Mouse. We can stock up on a bunch of stuff. Don’t they have one in Williamsburg?”
“Yeah, on the way to the outlet malls. You know, we could use a new wreath, too. And if they have lavender lights, that could be cool. It would give it a winter-fairyland kind of feeling. Maybe the whole tree could be in pastels.”
Dryly she says, “Let’s not get carried away.”
I ignore her. “Don’t forget that Trina has a lot of her own holiday stuff. She has a whole Christmas village, remember? It’s all packed away in those boxes in the garage.” Trina’s village isn’t just a little nativity scene. It has a barber shop and a bakery and a toy store; it’s intense. “I don’t even know where we’ll put it.”
She shrugs. “We’ll probably have to throw away some of our old stuff.” God, Kitty doesn’t have an ounce of sentimentality in her! In that same practical tone she adds, “Not everything we have is so great anyway. Our tree skirt is scraggly and chewed-up-looking. Why keep something just because it’s old? New is almost always better than old, you know.”
I look away. Our mom bought that tree skirt at a Christmas fair the elementary school had. One of the PTA moms was a knitter. Margot and I fought over which to pick; she liked the red with tartan trim, and I liked the white because I thought it would look like our tree was standing in snow. Mommy went with the red, because she said the white would get dirty fast. The red has held up well, but Kitty’s right; it’s probably time to retire it. I’ll never let her throw it away though, and neither will Margot. At the very least, I’ll cut off a square and put it in my hat box for safekeeping.
“Trina has a nice tree skirt,” I say. “It’s white fur. Jamie Fox-Pickle will love to snuggle with it.”
My phone buzzes, and I jump to see if it’s Peter, but it’s only Daddy saying he’s picking up Thai food for dinner, and do we want pad thai or pad see yew? I sigh again.
“I swear, Lara Jean, if you sigh one more time!” Kitty threatens. Eyeing me, she says, “I know it’s not really Christmas you’re missing. Peter’s been gone for like one day and you’re acting like he went off to war or something.”
I ignore her and type back pad see yew out of pure spite, because I know Kitty prefers pad thai.
That’s when I get the e-mail notification. It’s from UNC admissions. My application has been updated. I click on the link. Congratulations . . .
I’m off the wait list.
What in the what?
I sit there, stunned, reading it over and over. I, Lara Jean Song Covey, was accepted to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. I can’t believe it. I never thought I’d get in. But I’m in.
“Lara Jean? Hello?”
Startled, I look up.
“I just asked you a question three times. What’s up with you?”
“Um . . . I think I just got in to UNC Chapel Hill.”
Kitty’s jaw drops. “Whoa!”
“Weird, right?” I shake my head in wonder. Who’d have ever thought it? Not me. I’d all but forgotten about UNC after I got wait-listed.
“UNC is a really hard school to get into, Lara Jean!”
“I know.” I’m still in a daze. After I didn’t get into UVA, I felt so low, like I wasn’t good enough to be there. But UNC! It’s even harder to get into UNC out of state than it is UVA in state.
Kitty’s smile fades a little. “But aren’t you going to William and Mary? Didn’t you already send in your deposit? And aren’t you transferring to UVA next year anyway?”
UVA. For those few seconds, I forgot about transferring to UVA and I was just happy about UNC. “That’s the plan,” I say. My phone buzzes, and my heart jumps, thinking it’s Peter, but’s it’s not. It’s a text from Chris.
Wanna go to Starb
I write back, GUESS WHAT. I got into UNC!
OMG!
I’m calling you
A second later my phone rings and Chris screams, “Holy shit!”
“Thank you! I mean, wow. I just . . . it’s such a great school. I figured—”
“So what are you going to do?” she demands.
“Oh.” I glance over at Kitty, who is watching with eagle eyes. “Nothing. I’m still going to William and Mary.”
“But isn’t UNC a better school?”
“It’s higher ranked. I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”
“Let’s go,” she says.
“To visit? When?”
“Right now! Spontaneous road trip!”
“Are you crazy? It’s four hours away!”
“No it’s not. It’s only three hours and twenty-five minutes. I just looked it up.”
“By the time we get there, it’ll be—”
“Six o’clock. Big deal. We’ll walk around, get dinner, and then drive back. Why not! We’re young. And you need to know what you’re saying no to.” Before I can protest again, she says, “I’m picking you up in ten minutes. Pack some snacks for the road.” Then she hangs up.
Kitty is eyeing me. “You’re going to North Carolina? Right now?”
I’m feeling pretty euphoric at the moment. I laugh and say, “I guess!”
“Does that mean you’re going there instead of William and Mary?”
“No, it’s just—I’m just going to visit. Nothing’s changed. Don’t tell Daddy, though.”
“I miss . . . Christmas.” I bite into another slice of peach.
She brightens. “So do I! I think we should get a few deer to go in our front yard this year. Not the cheap kind, the classy wire kind that come covered in lights.”
I sigh again and set down the can. “Sure.” The syrup is starting to feel heavy in my stomach.
“Quit sighing!”
“Why does sighing feel so good?” I muse.
Kitty heaves a big sigh. “Well, it’s basically the same thing as breathing. And it feels good to breathe. Air is delicious.”
“It is, isn’t it?” I spear another slice of peach. “I wonder where you buy those kinds of deer. Target will probably sell them.”
“We should go to that store the Christmas Mouse. We can stock up on a bunch of stuff. Don’t they have one in Williamsburg?”
“Yeah, on the way to the outlet malls. You know, we could use a new wreath, too. And if they have lavender lights, that could be cool. It would give it a winter-fairyland kind of feeling. Maybe the whole tree could be in pastels.”
Dryly she says, “Let’s not get carried away.”
I ignore her. “Don’t forget that Trina has a lot of her own holiday stuff. She has a whole Christmas village, remember? It’s all packed away in those boxes in the garage.” Trina’s village isn’t just a little nativity scene. It has a barber shop and a bakery and a toy store; it’s intense. “I don’t even know where we’ll put it.”
She shrugs. “We’ll probably have to throw away some of our old stuff.” God, Kitty doesn’t have an ounce of sentimentality in her! In that same practical tone she adds, “Not everything we have is so great anyway. Our tree skirt is scraggly and chewed-up-looking. Why keep something just because it’s old? New is almost always better than old, you know.”
I look away. Our mom bought that tree skirt at a Christmas fair the elementary school had. One of the PTA moms was a knitter. Margot and I fought over which to pick; she liked the red with tartan trim, and I liked the white because I thought it would look like our tree was standing in snow. Mommy went with the red, because she said the white would get dirty fast. The red has held up well, but Kitty’s right; it’s probably time to retire it. I’ll never let her throw it away though, and neither will Margot. At the very least, I’ll cut off a square and put it in my hat box for safekeeping.
“Trina has a nice tree skirt,” I say. “It’s white fur. Jamie Fox-Pickle will love to snuggle with it.”
My phone buzzes, and I jump to see if it’s Peter, but it’s only Daddy saying he’s picking up Thai food for dinner, and do we want pad thai or pad see yew? I sigh again.
“I swear, Lara Jean, if you sigh one more time!” Kitty threatens. Eyeing me, she says, “I know it’s not really Christmas you’re missing. Peter’s been gone for like one day and you’re acting like he went off to war or something.”
I ignore her and type back pad see yew out of pure spite, because I know Kitty prefers pad thai.
That’s when I get the e-mail notification. It’s from UNC admissions. My application has been updated. I click on the link. Congratulations . . .
I’m off the wait list.
What in the what?
I sit there, stunned, reading it over and over. I, Lara Jean Song Covey, was accepted to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. I can’t believe it. I never thought I’d get in. But I’m in.
“Lara Jean? Hello?”
Startled, I look up.
“I just asked you a question three times. What’s up with you?”
“Um . . . I think I just got in to UNC Chapel Hill.”
Kitty’s jaw drops. “Whoa!”
“Weird, right?” I shake my head in wonder. Who’d have ever thought it? Not me. I’d all but forgotten about UNC after I got wait-listed.
“UNC is a really hard school to get into, Lara Jean!”
“I know.” I’m still in a daze. After I didn’t get into UVA, I felt so low, like I wasn’t good enough to be there. But UNC! It’s even harder to get into UNC out of state than it is UVA in state.
Kitty’s smile fades a little. “But aren’t you going to William and Mary? Didn’t you already send in your deposit? And aren’t you transferring to UVA next year anyway?”
UVA. For those few seconds, I forgot about transferring to UVA and I was just happy about UNC. “That’s the plan,” I say. My phone buzzes, and my heart jumps, thinking it’s Peter, but’s it’s not. It’s a text from Chris.
Wanna go to Starb
I write back, GUESS WHAT. I got into UNC!
OMG!
I’m calling you
A second later my phone rings and Chris screams, “Holy shit!”
“Thank you! I mean, wow. I just . . . it’s such a great school. I figured—”
“So what are you going to do?” she demands.
“Oh.” I glance over at Kitty, who is watching with eagle eyes. “Nothing. I’m still going to William and Mary.”
“But isn’t UNC a better school?”
“It’s higher ranked. I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”
“Let’s go,” she says.
“To visit? When?”
“Right now! Spontaneous road trip!”
“Are you crazy? It’s four hours away!”
“No it’s not. It’s only three hours and twenty-five minutes. I just looked it up.”
“By the time we get there, it’ll be—”
“Six o’clock. Big deal. We’ll walk around, get dinner, and then drive back. Why not! We’re young. And you need to know what you’re saying no to.” Before I can protest again, she says, “I’m picking you up in ten minutes. Pack some snacks for the road.” Then she hangs up.
Kitty is eyeing me. “You’re going to North Carolina? Right now?”
I’m feeling pretty euphoric at the moment. I laugh and say, “I guess!”
“Does that mean you’re going there instead of William and Mary?”
“No, it’s just—I’m just going to visit. Nothing’s changed. Don’t tell Daddy, though.”
