Page 27 of Escaping Our Reality

The phone call irritated her. Her back is stiff and her chin tilts up in the air.

“So where do you go to school, Lulu?”

“North and Camden Academy.”

I whistle through my teeth. “The most expensive private school in the state?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well, do you like it?”

“It’s a school. Walls, floors, desks. Didn’t you just say that book smarts are overrated.”

I nod.

“Where did you go to school?” she asks.

“Public school. Out here, everyone is zoned for East County.”

She makes an odd face. “And you performed well there?”

I laugh. She’s so damn funny. “You wanna know if there’s a reason I think formal education is overrated. You wanna know if I’m smart or stupid. Do you think I’m stupid, Lulu?”

“No.”

Of course, I know I’m stupid. I keep seeing her, don’t I?

She pulls the blanket up around her neck, and I quickly toss some more wood on the fire to ward off her chill. A cold front is moving in tonight. She gifts me a soft smile in thanks. But it doesn’t last long. Holding to her own, she digs in, “So answer the question, then. Did you perform well there?”

I lace my fingers behind my head. “Valedictorian.”

“Seriously?” She can’t hide the shock in her voice. “What did you score on the ACT?”

Normally, I wouldn’t answer that question. That’s nobody’s business but mine. There’s lots of reasons I’ll enter a dick-measuring contest with someone, but an ACT score isn’t one of them. But she’s not asking to be competitive. She’s asking out of genuine intrigue.

“33.”

“Holy crap! A 33! That’s wonderful, Ry. I only scored a 30. I’m so proud of you.” Catching her intimate words, she blushes and then smiles. Smiles at me. Smiles for me. “I know you don’t want student loans, but what about scholarships?”

I scoff. “Schools don’t give scholarships to people like me. They give scholarships to people like you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why the University of Virginia? I’m assuming they have a great architecture program, but why them? You have a full ride, don’t you?”

She refuses to look down. That’s not what Lulu does. But she doesn’t answer. And that silence is answer enough.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Did you try? Did you apply for scholarships? I’m sure you did, but I have to ask,” she says.

“Of course, I did, but I wasn’t one of the favorite pets of the school guidance counselor. She gave me no information about scholarships. She didn’t even reach out to the majority of the class for pre-graduation counseling. I did what I could on my own. I was awarded one scholarship for $1,000. That’s it.”

“It doesn’t make sense. Why?”

She’s so innocent. “Lulu, you don’t even have to do a background check on me to find out my brother and parents have all been in jail. A simple Google search will give you that information. I’m not exactly a scholarship poster boy.”

“That’s terrible. It’s not fair and it’s terrible,” she pouts.

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