I opened the creaky mailbox, with the broken hinge that my Dad keeps saying he’ll fix. The mail is here which is no surprise since I staked out by the window that overlooks my front yard to watch the mail truck arrive. I’ve been doing that for the past 3 weeks. There is a moderate amount of mail; bills, magazines, a subscription to Women’s Style addressed to…my father. I’ll just assume that’s a mistake. But behind all the nonsense mail, which I toss aside though my parents may get angry since it contains the phone bills, is a large, and yes, heavy envelope with the Harvard insignia on front. I’ve gotten a lot of letters already from colleges who want me to look into them. Their way of saying “Were a pretty good school and you should spend countless hours filling out our application even though we probably won’t accept you.” I think not snooty colleges; I’m too smart for that. I know when I’m wasting my time on something that won’t pay off in the end. I waste my time watching trashy reality shows instead of doing homework every night. My first reaction to the letter is to think back to when I even applied to Harvard, because this can’t be right, but then I remember when my friend Ashley convinced me to do it as a joke, and my parents gave me a look saying “with your grades do you really think they would accept you?” I think I made my point when I explained how colleges like a well rounded student and they would take notice of my 4 years of experience as a girl scout, even though it was in elementary school. They may want a student who knows 5 different styles of lanyard. I stare back at the letter and weigh it in my hands. I’ve always heard that the acceptance letters are heavy because of all the information they have to put with it. This had to be an acceptance. Running inside I didn’t even say hello back to my neighbor who had been out getting her mail too. No this was too important to wait. Inside my parents sit in the kitchen, my mother drinking coffee and doing the newspaper crosswords, my father watching those obnoxious daytime court shows that every one else skips after. Before I can even tell them about the letter I rip it open just to see inside. Its better this way instead of humiliating myself by showing it to them and finding out I didn’t get in.

Blah blah blah Harvard University blah blah ACCEPTED.
I was accepted to one of the most prestigious schools in the country. Me. Miss average grades works hard enough to get by student was accepted. What a slap in the face this is to all the teachers who told me to put more effort into my work. A slap in the face to all the nerds who freaked out about SATs while I relaxed and watched The Real World. I never really thought about my future but with an education from Harvard, I can do anything! I can be a doctor or lawyer, or even a chef except the last time I tried to bake cupcakes I somehow caught the shades in my kitchen, the microwave, and my dog’s bed on fire. I still haven’t figured out how I did that one. But that’s besides the point. I can do anything after being accepted to Harvard! Or I can do nothing at all and when people ask why I’m not doing anything I can just say “I went to Harvard”. The possibilities are endless. As I pondered the options that lay ahead of me in my future, I let out all my happiness in one loud, very fulfilling scream. My parents turned and looked at me. I couldn’t form words I just handed them the letter and smiled. I watched as they read on and gave me a confused look. “Honey, what’s so important about this?”

“I got into HARVARD!?! That’s what’s important!” I said enthusiastically.

“Sweetie, this is the neighbor’s mail…”

“…What?”

“Check the name. It says Jenny Sampson not Jenna Smith”

“Oh,”

“But something did come for you today, so don’t look so sad!”

“Princeton? Brown?”

“It looks like you have a dentist appointment coming up.”