Chapter 17: The Letter

We carried the notebooks into my mother's kitchen and stacked them in rows on the table.

Bea cleared the dishes without a word and put the kettle on.

Keith took the chair by the door, and nobody asked him to leave.

I opened the one marked 18.

It was Lydia's handwriting, small and tidy, in blue ink, with the dates down the left margin.

I turned to the flagged page, where April 3 was written large across the top.

The entry above it was the one I read first.

March 28. D. submitted the application in December. I assisted with the portal and set the contact email to mine, as agreed with C.

Decision released today. D. admitted.

I read that line three times.

I did not understand it, because it was written about a girl who had been told no.

"Mom," I said.

"What is it?"

"Come here."

She wiped her hands and came and stood behind my chair.

I read on, aloud, because I could not read it silently.

April 3. Told D. in person: denied. She said, "I guess I'm not the kind of person who gets picked." Recorded.

Paper acceptance packet arrived at the Colby house the same afternoon. Intercepted from the porch before M. Colby saw it.

C. informed. C. says the placement should not be altered, or the study loses its baseline.

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