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offer you a position in next year's freshman class. Unfortunately, subsequent investigation of your high school transcript from Sao Paulo reveals that you have taken only two years of science and mathematics. New York University requires that all its incoming students complete a minimum of three years of study in these subjects. We suggest taking a fifth year of colleg
e preparatory courses to bolster your application if you choose to apply for admission next year.
Thank you for your interest in New York University, and best of luck in the future.
Sincerely,
The New York University Admissions Committee
How could this be? She'd been waiting for so long--she'd worked so hard--between schooling and the au pair gig, she'd barely even had time to hang out when Eliza was home from boarding school. Plus, she'd taken the SAT no fewer than seven times, and she'd even passed her AP English exam--a real achievement! Then she'd put in all that time at the dialysis center as part of her community service to beef up her application-- which had been a difficult squeeze with all her responsibilities at the Perry house. She'd done everything possible--she'd rewritten her essay so many times even she herself was sick of her life story and "the most influential person in her life" (her grandmother). By rights, she was a perfect candidate--well rounded, solid GPA,
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likable background, killer head shot. (All the schools were asking for them now.) What could have gone wrong?
"Are you okay?" Anna asked, raising an eyebrow. She'd noticed Jacqui staring at the screen with uncharacteristic intensity.
"I got an e-mail from NYU," Jacqui said flatly. She choked out the bad news.
"I'm sorry," Anna said, her voice warm. "I went to NYU. I know it's terribly hard to get in these days. I'm sure you'll do just as well at another university."
Jacqui took Anna's words of comfort in the spirit they were offered; she knew her employer meant well. But Jacqui didn't have a plan B. She'd refused to apply to any other college as the counselor had suggested. The University of Michigan? She didn't even know where Michigan was. Wellesley? An all-girls' school? Forget it! So instead of college, her only remaining option was to take a fifth year--of high school! The humiliation!
Jacqui had heard about the dreaded "five-year plan." A few seniors from last year's class at St. Grace had returned to the school for the same program. It was usually offered to dumb rich kids who had marginal brains but oodles of money. Jacqui couldn't believe she would be one of those people. First off, she wasn't rich. Who was going to pay for another year of her tuition?
Of course, she could work for the Perrys again. She was sure Anna wasn't looking forward to breaking in a new au pair. But Jacqui had talked about NYU so much--she and Eliza were already planning on meeting up in October for Halloween, and
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she'd had Mara promise that wherever she ended up, they would spend Thanksgiving together. She even had a roommate lined up--a friend from St. Grace who had been granted early admission to Tisch.
Traffic finally let up, and the car deposited them in front of the barbed-wire gates in front of the Thirty-fourth Street tarmac. Anna and the rest of the family clambered out of the limousine, leaving Jacqui alone inside.
With no one to notice, Jacqui brushed away a few tears. Madison Perry, twelve years old and even skinnier than last summer, stuck her head inside the car. "Jacqui? We need to go." She saw the look on Jacqui's face. "Is something wrong? Are you okay?"
Jacqui smiled bravely. She wiped her face. "I just realized I'm wearing the wrong outfit for the helicopter. My skirt is going to be in my face from all that wind."
Madison chuckled hesitantly.
"You know, like Marilyn Monroe--poof!" Jacqui joked. She slid out of the car. This time Madison laughed in earnest.
Jacqui forced a laugh too, holding down her skirt as they ran past the scissoring helicopter blades. But her smile faded as soon as Madison turned away.
The girl from sunny Sao Paulo felt as cloudy as the New York sky.
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when duty calls . . . blackberries vibrate
RYAN TOSSED OVER THE CARDBOARD FEDEX BOX, AND MARA tore it open.
"What the--?" she asked as out tumbled a vibrating BlackBerry.
She tried to answer it. "Hello? Hello? Hello?" she yelled, twiddling the little knobs on the side.
"I don't think it's ringing," Ryan said helpfully. "I think it means you have a message."