Page 97 of Fake Notes

“Ya think?”

“Okay, present time!” Mom suddenly clapped her hands and turned from the bar. In her hands, she held a small box with a bow.

“There are presents, too?”

Excitement wriggled in my chest as she approached.

“You can’t have a birthday without presents,” she said, like it should be obvious, then she guided me toward a small table with several wrapped packages in the back I hadn’t noticed before.

I opened each gift, savoring the moment. It had been years since I had anything other than dinner at my house with P and my parents, and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed myself. Then again, maybe it was Thorne’s presence. He had a way of amplifying everything and making even the most mundane things fun.

I received a new sketchpad and watercolor set from P. Charcoals from Topher. My cousins gave me a gorgeous silk shawl, and Barry, for all his dorkiness, bought me a really pretty picture frame with a snapshot he’d taken of Team Nerd, our dodgeball team from gym class. In the photo, Thorne and I are smiling at each other instead of the camera, and though I would never admit it, I loved it so much I teared up a little when I opened it.

But I had yet to open the small box my mother held in her hands, and so when she handed it to me and said, “We got this in the mail this afternoon,” I licked my lips, suddenly nervous.

I lifted the lid on the package and blinked down in surprise at the envelope that lay inside. “Parsons” was printed in the corner in big red letters.

It was the letter I’d been waiting for. The one that would determine my future.

My heart palpitated as I realized I held my dream in my hands, and I was two seconds away from discovering if it would come to fruition or be crushed.

With shaking hands, I picked up the envelope, which was surprisingly thick, praying that was a good sign.

Beside me, Thorne cleared his throat, and I glanced up at him. “I’m nervous,” I said, my voice small.

“Do you want me to open it?”

I shook my head. “No, I can do it.” Then I glanced over at Mom. “What if I don’t get in?”

What I want to say is,What if I don’t get in and you ruined a perfectly good night by breaking the news?

“You will,” Dad said, placing a hand on Mom’s shoulder. “We have faith in you.”

“Open it,” P said beside them, and Topher nodded.

I inhaled, mustering my courage, and slid my index finger through the top of the envelope. If they all had faith in me, then I’d have faith too. Besides, I had a whole room of support if it didn’t go the way I wanted.

My hands trembled as I slid the papers from the envelope and allowed my gaze to focus through the nervous buzz in my head and began to read out loud:

Dear Scarlett Rees,

Congratulations! On behalf of the Admission Committee, I am pleased to offer you a place at Parsons School of Design at The New School.

“Oh my gosh!” I threw my hands in the air, still clutching the papers as everyone around me screamed.

Mom, Dad, Penelope, and Thorne all encircled their arms around me as I fought for the second time to fight back my tears.

Everyone in the room made their rounds, offering their congratulations, and once the excitement in the room died down, I took a seat and finished reading the acceptance letter in full while Thorne watched quietly beside me. When I finished, I tucked it back inside the envelope and back in the box.

“I suppose this means there’s no chance of you changing your mind and going to the Beverly Hills Design Institute?”

Is that why he was suddenly quiet?

“I’m sorry. I know this means I’ll be in New York, and that’s really far from LA. Does that bother you? I mean, we knew we’d have to do the long-distance thing, right?” I asked, suddenly sick to my stomach with the fear that this changed things between us.

“Bother me? You’re thrilled. Why would that bother me? I mean, despite the fact that LA is clearly superior to New York—”

I bumped him in the arm, and he laughed.

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