Everyone sat sullenly at home. Some watched television to pass the time, others just sat motionless. But each person was waiting. They were waiting for their fate. Fate that came sealed in a large envelope dressed with a stamp and a return address. Each of them envisioning the best and dreading the worst that could possibly happen. They waited with the amount of patience paralleling a child waiting on line at Disney World. This letter, the same kind of carefree thing you write your parents in summer camp when you are a kid, now holding information that could change ones life forever. This was sealed, packaged fate, or at least to them it was. These anxious teenagers are the class presidents, the valedictorians, the only ones in class with their hands up. The rare species nervously waited for his or her lazy mailman with the beer- belly and barely there white hair, to come drive by their house, open their chrome, standard, gray mailboxes and drop in the mail. Pretending not to notice the mail, they walked outside only to feign to be genuinely disinterested in the assortment of paper goods that was just dropped into their possession.

Jenny made a mistake. She was starting to feel regret slide through the contours of her mind like butter sliding down a hot piece of toast. She grabbed her lilac Burberry plaid winter coat, and rummaged through the closet for her matching Gucci loafers. Jenny was perfect. People who partied their way through high school never possessed an ounce of jealously, on the contrary had pity for Jenny; now felt a stinging pang of resentment towards the petite perfectionist. The potheads, cheerleaders and jocks sorted through the envelopes on their beds, shocked into reality that their future had been delivered and their fate sealed all in a single day's time.

Jenny was very confident, and cocky. Flying through high school with straight As what reason did she have no to be? Jenny just knew she would get into the school of her dreams; Princeton. Jenny wrote a compelling, heartwarming essay, earned close to perfect SAT scores and submitted letters of recommendations which teachers practically begged to write on her behalf. She was never more sure that she would be shipping her orders from the Bed Bath