Name: Vincent Green

Gender:

Age:

GPA:

Reason for applying:

School name and home address:

The sheet was mocking him. Every time he started to fill it out, something got in the way. Mom needs work done. Okay, chores are finished, start again. Nope, Dad got the truck stuck. Of course, it's out there, in the mud, and the two of them waste four hours trying to get it out before Mom came out and fixed it instantly. Okay, back to work. Nada, cousins came over and wanted to talk to him.

What he started to fill out at seven am has yet to be finished--it's six pm now.

"Dinner time! Vincent, get down here!"

He groans, throwing back his head and blowing out air. "Coming, Mom!" Sighing, Vincent pushes back his chair. His bedroom, a sixteen foot by seventeen foot room--just had to be uneven--will wait for him to return, but his mind won't. Every good idea he's had, every great reason as to why they should allow him, slips away before he can do anything about it.

"You should accept me because I'm poor, black, living in a broken down town, and I'm gay so you'll be diverse," he mutters.

"What was that, honey?" his mom asks.

Vincent shakes his head, giving her a smile. "Nothing. I'm almost done with the sign up sheet, hopefully it'll all be filled out soon. I still can't believe they think I have a shot at this..."

She rolls her eyes, sitting down at the table with her plate of pasta. "Oh, you're a genius, quit being so modest. Honestly, Vincent. So, what will you be needing for the trip? I have a hundred set out for you, and you'll have your card...that's enough for two months, right? You don't need anymore money? If you do, just use the card, it'll be fine."

He nods, grabbing a plate and spooning out some of it and sitting down next to her. Vincent starts to eat, looking between his mother and father, who sit silently. Swallowing, he starts again. "I think I should be good with that. Thanks Mom. You too, Dad. This is all under the assumption I get in, though. There's lot of good people applying."

"In your school?" His father snorts, "Vincent, you beat all those in-bred idiots."

"They're not in-bred, Carl."

"Macy."

"Carl," his mother counters, raising her eyebrows. "Please don't start any fights here. I'm tired of all your nonsense. So, the camp. Do you need to get more clothes for it?"

"No, I should be good. I might need a new swimming suit. My clothes should be fine, though, really."

His Dad rolls his eyes, digging into his food. They all continue to eat for a bit, the only sounds in the house that of their chewing, the vents, and the cat pawing at the door. "Somebody want to let him in?" Vincent's Mom has a way of asking something that makes it more of a command, and without a thought Vincent stands to let it in.

A cool breeze blows in, spring starting to take over the winter weather. March is still a month away, yet he can already tell that it'll be warm soon. I have two more days to send this darn thing in. Maybe I should just wait, tell them I couldn't do it. Better than applying and never getting in, I guess. What else will I do this summer? Sit around? Maybe I'll get a job.

The cat rubs against his feet, purring as he slowly mkaes his way back to his seat.

Dinner finishes without anymore talk, the three of them setting their dishes into the dishwasher and getting back on with their lives. His mom and dad go into the living room, while Vincent goes back to his room to finish up that cursed application. He closes the door behind him softly, slightly annoyed as he sees that the paper is still there, unfinished, as if it's laughing at him.

"Come on, you stupid paper. Can't you write yourself?"

With a plop he falls back into his chair, ready to try the thing once more.

Of course, his phone has to ring just as he's writing down his GPA. Vincent welcomes the distraction, though, taking it out of his pocket and swiping to let the call go through. "A.J., what's up?"

The other end of the line cracks, "Not much. Just entered my submission. You?"

Vincent groans loudly, making sure to drag it out as long as possible. Scooting away from his desk, he spins the chair around. His friend laughs. "Dude, not funny! This thing sucks majorily. What's the use of it again?"

"Um...a summer filled with hot nerds," his friend reminds him playfully, "and a possible full ride into any school once you graduate? Come on, our school has this in the bag. If you don't enter now, I bet someone else will take your spot. Those AP smart-asses won't take our place this time! Besides, I'm graduating this year, I don't want to be stuck with a team of racist idiots. My brother said he had a friend who went there last year, and every other kid that went from his school was so awful they didn't even get close to winning. Total water-farts."

Vincent nods into the phone, forgetting that his friend can't see him. "Dude, okay. Yeah. What did you put for the 'Reason for applying' thing?"

There's a pause on the other end.

"Uh, I think I put something about our school putting no money into academics, and how so many people are failing. And that we haven't gotten new books in over ten years, which isn't that much of a a stretch. I actually think it's been nine." He laughs, "Just put something like that. Tell them about how much you want to learn, how you don't get the chance, how this is something that you'll never get t do again...What else would you do during summer? Sit around?"

Vincent chuckles, "That's what I was thinking. Sit around or get a job. Who wants that?"

"A job? God, what an insane thought. Who'd get a job?"

The two laugh, A.J. snorting the slightest bit. Like always, Vincent doesn't mention it, knowing how his friend hates being called out on the 'cliche nerd snort'.

"No, but seriously," he continues, "I'll have to get a job if I don't get in."

Vincent can imagine A.J. rolling his eyes and shaking his head at that. His voice practically says it all, "Whatever, man. You'll get in. We're the two smartest kids in our entire school, and you're still a junior! Did you hear who else was going to apply?"

"No, who?"

A.J. lowers his voice, "Sadie and Andy. Those two stuck ups can't go anywhere without the other, so they're dead certain they're going to get in. I don't really want them to, but it's better than Jonah getting in. That guy went around all yesterday while you were gone telling everyone how he's getting in because he's so smart, and that they just have to let people like him in. You should've seen what Avery said to him, it was pretty hilarious."

"What'd she say?"

He mimics her voice, "'Jonah, not everyone here wants to hear your idiotic remarks and dreams of getting into a college camp for people who actually have IQ's over one ten."

Vincent nearly doubles over in laughter. "Wow..."

"Yeah. I swear, if that kid ever wants to fight..."

"Just let him throw the first punch," Vincent finishes with a approving nod. "Oh, hey, can I finish this up at your house? Mom and Dad are having date night and I don't want to be here when they get back."

"Sure thing, idiot."

"Whatever, dumb-ass." Vincent clicks off the line, putting his phone back into his pocket and grabbing his backpack off the bed. After taking out his school books and throwing something to wear for tomorrow, he looks over at his desk, hating the thought of having to finish that paper. Finally, he tosses it into his bag and zips it closed, walking out of his room and into the hall. His parents are on the other side of the house. "Hey, Mom!"

"What?" she yells back at him, apparently not wanting to walk over to where he's at either.

"Can I go to A.J.'s?"

He grabs a can of soda from the fridge while he waits on her answer, cracking open the Dr. Pepper and taking a large gulp.

"When are you getting back?"

He bites his tongue, "Sometime tomorrow!"

"Okay, honey. Be safe!"

He nods before walking out of the house, smiling as the falling sun fails to reach his eyes. Though he doesn't wear glasses anymore (doctor at the last checkup said he was just fine) the sun still manages to hurt him just a bit when it's bright. As he moves from his dying grass yard to the asphalt street with faded driving lines on it, Vincent adopts a sort of gait in his walk, some sort of hip 'swag', as A.J. would call it.

The thought alone makes him laugh a bit, and he quickly makes his way over to his friends house, little over half a block away.

In a town like this, everyone is about a block away.

A.J. is waiting outside as he walks up, sitting in a lawnchair and sipping on a Dr. Pepper. "Yo, my man! What's up, Vince?"

He rolls his eyes, plopping down in the free chair besides him. "Dude, what's with the slang? You think just because I'm black I'm a ganster?"

His friend snorts, giving him a wide glance. "Ganster? You? No. When I think ganster, I think of the mob. Maybe if you were Italian, but nah, you're more of a hit man than anything. I think that because you're sixteen and live in a town like this...you've gotta have some slang. Drop 'dem 'g's!" The two both crack up laughing. "No, but really. Show me what you've got so far."

"Um...my name, gender, and age?"

"Better than nothing!"

Vincent rolls his eyes, reaching into his bag and handing his paper to A.J. I should've put down my GPA too. I know that. 4.0, solid for two years. 3.8 before that. They have to love me.

"Oh, bro...come on! Fill this out. You can do better."

"Yeah, yeah..."

Vincent starts to write again, pressing it against his knee and praying that his pencil doesn't push through the paper. The words are hard and slow, yet slowly he makes his way down to "Reason for applying".

As he writes, A.J. leans back, downing his drink in three quick sessions. He watches his friend with a quick eye, pushing back his dark hair once or twice.

It only takes two minutes for him to completely bore himself and start scrolling through his phone. Facebook, Facebook, hands in his face, Facebook-- "Jenkins, get your hands out of my face!"

She jumps, laughing and falling over the back of his chair.

Vincent gives her a quick glance, amused by his friends and continuing his writing. "Hi, Avery."

"Hi, Vince! Are you filling out that sheet still? It's due in what? Two days?" she asks, playing with A.J.'s hair. "You know, the sooner you get it done the sooner you're accepted."

"Will you shut up? I'm working!"

Snorting, Avery starts to braid A.J.'s hair, ignoring his pleas to let him go. "Oh, calm yourself. A, do ya know where my bag went?"

He smirks, grabbing her by the elbows and pulling her over the chair and onto the ground. Screaming and laughing, she grabs onto him as well. The two start to wrestle, her legs trapping him as he tries to hold her down. "Vince, come help me!"

"Busy! A.J., don't let her take you down!"

He shakes his head, slipping out of the chair and tumbling with her. "God, what do you do to these legs? Vince, she's an alien, there's no way she can be Jenkins! Return to me her, return!"

Avery practically dissolves into a fit of giggles, unable to catch her breath.

"Will you two quit horsing around?" Vincent asks, setting down his pencil and looking over his work.

"No," they shout in unison.

"Give me a break," he mutters. "Here, tell me what you think. 'In the world, millions of billions of people work every day so they won't have to work. In my town, around three hundred have actual jobs, two hundred are elderly, and the rest are my age and younger and don't care. My class has a total of thirty people in it. The number of textbooks is around the same. Each book we have is over fourteen years old. At times, we've corrected them, and yet we still don't have anything to get better. Even though my test scores say I should go to Harvard or Yale, my income scores tell me I should go to ARI and give up. Maybe I should. Maybe the world isn't ready for the next generation. No matter how this turns up, we all deserve a chance.' Well?"

Avery claps her hands hard, but A.J. just smiles.

"It's a little speech-y," he comments, picking grass out of his hair. "It's not bad. Not bad at all."

Vincent grins, "Good. Because I'm so done with this."

"Oh! Oh! Let's go to the park," Avery suggests, jumping up. How she's able to maintain so much energy and not burn herself out is beyond both of the guys. "It's not too dark out yet!"

"It's like, eight!"

"You're like eight! Mentally," Avery says. Knowing that they won't go, she sighs dramatically. "Camping?"

"Again?"

"Please, Vince?"

After giving the two a long glance, Vincent shrugs, tilting back his chair and grinning. "You know what? That sounds fine."