Despite the sense of closure it should offer me, the encounter with Taylor at the party leaves me on edge for the rest of the weekend. I try not to think about it, but it's always pressing against the back of my brain like a bruise.

The sensation is made worse when I sit down across from Liam at The Cold Front, stirring my granola around to mix with my frozen yogurt.  

"Have you talked to Taylor since Friday?" I ask him, crushing up a particularly large piece of granola.

Liam spoons some Oreo into his mouth.  "No.  Just because I forgave him doesn't mean we're BFFs again."

"Do you think we can ever become friends with him again?"

"Do you want us to?"

I shake my head, so fast that for a second the pressure in my head is gone.  Then it's back, so I add, "I'd be happy if I never saw him again.  But maybe one day he'll come crawling back to us.  I don't know.  He already kind of has."

"I guess."  He doesn't seem particularly interested in the conversation—instead, his fingers keep stretching in the direction of his phone and then curling again, like he's dying to check it.

"What's wrong?"

It's as if this has given him permission to go on his phone, because he unlocks it and starts scrolling frantically.  "Decisions for Central come out today," he says.  "They're gonna be posted any minute."

My stomach flips at the mention of college.  In the wake of everything else that's been going on, I've been trying to push college decisions out of my head because they'll only add to the stress.  But it's become unavoidable the last few days.  I've already received two notifications—both acceptances—but I'm waiting on an email from my dream college.

"How long until you hear from Princeton?" Liam asks, pocketing his phone.  I assume an email hasn't come through for him yet.

"Later today."

It feels awkward talking about college with my friends, even Liam.  I applied to Ivy League schools and a few less-known but still extremely reputable choices.  There's such a small chance I'm going to get into the Ivies that I don't even like to mention it—I'd rather not let anyone know how much I want to get in so I can brush it off with nonchalance later.  The rest of my friends have various levels of transparency with their processes; they're applying to all different kinds of schools, and Liam's set on small in-state colleges.

"Like what time?"  He unlocks his phone again.  "Actually, hold that thought.  Decisions just came out."

I drop my spoon and stare at him with wide eyes, heart pounding as he opens the email.  If I feel this nervous for him, I can't imagine how he feels, yet he looks serene and sturdy as ever.  His fingers don't shake and his eyes don't betray any emotion as he scans the letter.

Please let him get in.  Please.  Liam needs this.  He only applied to two schools, and this is his safer bet.

It's only a few seconds before he sets his phone facedown on the table and takes a giant bite of frozen yogurt.  I hesitate for half a heartbeat before I ask, "Well?"

"I got in."

"Of course you did!"  I hop down from my stool to hug him, squeezing his neck.  "Why aren't you smiling?  You should be smiling!"

"I'm shocked.  That's all."  When I sit back down he adds, "Mr. Denham was forced to report to my colleges that time sophomore year I got busted for drinking on campus.  I didn't think anyone was going to let me in after that."

I don't think Mr. Denham was forced to report anything—in fact, I'm pretty sure he took a certain amount of glee from the report—but I say instead, "You aren't defined by one stupid mistake two years ago.  Clearly, Central did the right thing and saw past that.  I'm so proud of you.  Are you going to tell Allison?  How about Spencer?"

"I'll put it in the group text now."  Only now do I see a grin appearing, widening quickly so that his eyes crease at his smile lines.  Reality must just be sinking in for me.  I really hope the same will happen to me later.

Once he sends the text, he puts his phone away for real and starts back in on his frozen yogurt.  "Do you know what time the Princeton email comes out?" he asks.

"Four o'clock."

"Shit, Erika.  That's less than twenty minutes away!"

I stab at my yogurt, splitting a piece of granola in half.  "Don't remind me."  Another stab.  "I'd rather not think about it."

"Well, what are your other options?" he asks, setting down his spoon.  "Knowing you, you have at least four back-up plans."

I can't help but smile at that.  "I do.  I already got into Northwestern and Tufts.  I'm waiting on a few other Ivies after Princeton, but I'll probably go to Northwestern if things don't work out today."

"Northwestern's good," he says.  "Far away though."

"Yeah.  Maybe that's a good thing."

Chicago seems like a million miles away right now, but I think that'll be a good thing in the end.  Aquino High was poisonous for me, and once I graduate I don't think I'll want to stay in this town for long.  It'll be a fresh start for me, where I can meet new people and not fall subject to the same toxic relationships I did here.  I'll have a chance to make a positive difference without tainting anything.

"I've seen Northwestern's brochures in Allison's room," says Liam.  He's almost finished with his yogurt by now, and I can tell he's eyeing mine, too.  "All posh and fancy.  And super smart.  You'll fit right in."

Only Liam can say this without coming across as insulting.  It's one of the many things I love about him.

I stomach a few more bites of yogurt before I'm too nervous to eat anymore, so I shove the bowl across the table and Liam finishes it for me.  Then he distracts me with stupid conversation: prom and gossip and what Mr. Denham does for fun.  I laugh and smile and nod at all the right places, but under the table my legs are shaking.

Four o'clock finally comes, and I feel like I could either run a few laps around a football field or be sick.  Taking as many deep breaths as I can muster, I pull my phone out of my purse and go to my email.

1 new email.  From Princeton's Board of Admissions.

"It's here," I mumble, clicking on the link that directs me to my online portal.  It takes me three tries to get my password right and then I'm logged in, and the words are right in front of me except they're blurring together.  

"We are unable to take definite action...waitlisted..."

"No," I whisper.

Liam stretches a hand across the table and places it on my arm, grounding me.  "It's okay, Erika," he says.  "Princeton's really hard to get into.  Not everyone—"

"I didn't get rejected," I say.  I want to clear that up right away.  I was better than that.  They didn't turn me down flat—they couldn't.  Not after my sparkling grades and extracurriculars.  "I'm on the waitlist."

"Oh.  That's not bad!  Erika, that's good.  You might still get in—"

"I'm turning down the offer."

His hand goes limp in my wrist, his mouth open mid-sentence.  I can see in his eyes how lost he is.  I never talked much about college, but anytime anyone mentioned Princeton, there was always a hunger in my eyes.  Anybody who could read me knew how much I wanted it.

But Liam doesn't ask questions.  He just draws back his hand and says, "Okay."

"I don't want to wait all summer, counting on a decision that might end up being a rejection," I say.  "I want to start looking towards my future, and that future's Northwestern now."

"Wait, right now?  Don't you think that's a little rash?"

I'm already clicking onto Northwestern's website.  "I'm putting down my deposit right now," I say.

"Wow, all right.  We'll make it a party then.  I'll put down my Central deposit at the same time."  He pulls his phone back out, his eyes still flicking up at me every few seconds as if to check and see if I'm okay.

I realize now that I'm fine.  Princeton was a disappointment, but I'd been prepping myself all year for the news.  Liam's right: the Northwestern packets are sleek, impressive, and detail a future I think I want to have.  Any dejection is replaced by tiny trickles in my bloodstream, until the deadness in my stomach ignites and turns into dancing butterflies.

"Ready?" I ask after a few minutes.  "We both put down our deposits on the count of three."

Liam is grinning.  "Three...two...one...Done."

I jab the "submit" button and set my phone down, watching the page load.  Then it's done, and a message pops up on my screen welcoming me to the freshman class.

"We're college kids!" exclaims Liam, slamming his phone down on the table.  "Suck it, high school.  Suck it, exams and tests and stupid teachers."

"Liam."  I'm biting back a smile as I say, "You do know we still have to finish senior year.  We haven't graduated yet.  And what about AP exams?  Any of that ringing a bell?"

"Nonsense.  I haven't cared about exams since middle school.  And graduation?  It's just a fancy ceremony symbolizing that we've left high school, which we've all done long ago.  Our heads haven't been inside Aquino High since December."

I guess it's kind of true.  More and more I've been finding myself thinking about college, about my dorm room and my roommate and what classes I'll be taking.  I figure Liam's thought process is the same, except he's probably contemplating frat parties and tailgating and a minimum course load requirement.

"Are you going to be at all upset to leave Aquino behind?" I ask.  The adrenaline is starting to dissolve and the goosebumps on my skin are disappearing, but I still feel a racing sensation in my chest.

"I'll miss you," he says.  "And Allison and Spencer and Brynn and Cassidy.  Maybe even Taylor a little bit, too.  He did keep things interesting."

I laugh.  "I'll miss it all.  Everything except the drama.  But I'll miss walking down the hallways, going to class, cramming for Physics tests with you...nothing's going to be the same in a few weeks."

"That's how it's meant to be.  Life goes on.  We're not meant to stay stuck in high school forever."

He's right.  I know he is, yet I'm still clinging to high school as hard as I can.  I know when it's gone, I won't ever be able to come back.  No more football games, no more insane Friday night parties, no more Cold Front meet-ups or pep rallies or cafeteria lines.  No more crazy car rides with the windows down and the music blaring.  Never my friends and I all together at the same place at the same time.

But there will also be no more drama.  No more lies or deceit.  No gossip, no heartbreak.  When I leave Aquino High behind, I hope all of that will go, too.

"I hope people grow up in college," I say, stacking the empty yogurt cups on top of each other.  "High school was a petty train wreck."

"But you loved it."  His eyes are sparkling.  "Come on, Erika, there was always a part of you that lived off of petty drama."

He's right.  And I guess there's nothing wrong with admitting it.  "It was more a thing a few months ago," I say, but I'm still smiling.  "Anyway, I'm sure enough will follow me next year to sustain me for a while."

"If not, you can always create drama for yourself."

"I guess I'm good at that," I say.  "I'll just pick a bad boy again and become involved in another dysfunctional relationship.  No biggie, right?"

"You better not do that, or I'll be on the next flight to Chicago."

I laugh.  This feels right, like all the puzzle pieces have finally fit into place.  College was the final missing piece, and now that that's not hovering above my head anymore I'm at ease.  High school isn't going to stick with me forever, and I only have a few weeks left.  I'm determined to make the most out of it that I can.