Chapter Text
JUNIOR YEAR
APRIL
My name is June Iparis, and I want to go to Harvard. I have wanted to go to Harvard ever since I was in elementary school, ever since I was an itty-bitty child.
And so far, I'm on the right track. I'm four years ahead of the usual math and engineering curriculum, so I take quite a few classes at Drake University (in Des Moines, Iowa). The only reason I'm ever at my actual high school is to take AP Physics C after lunch, my ninth AP course (all 5s so far). My weighted GPA is 4.77. My college essays are fully drafted and ready to submit. I know what I'm doing.
It's a sunny afternoon. I sigh as I stand by the glass doors of Republic High, waiting to be buzzed in.
As I wait, I think about the email my counselor sent me in the morning.
Dear Ms. Iparis,
Please visit my office sometime today. I have some important news to share with you, and I'm sure you'd like to hear it.
Well, that's Counselor Jameson for you: always straight to the point. I have a feeling this is about the SAT I took in March, and that makes my stomach shift a little. Today is, after all, the day the counselors get access to our scores, half a week before us students do. In all honesty, I am not expecting much.
That test... based on the dozen-or-so practice SATs I took, it felt like a 1570 out of 1600. That's a good score, I guess, but I'd like more.
I'm smarter than that. I know I am. I have aced every test I've ever taken. I didn't study for five months just to miss 30 points on this thing. I should be able to walk in, answer every question correctly, and walk out.
The secretary buzzes me in. I give her a polite Good Afternoon and she returns it. I pass through here so often, she probably knows me by name.
As I check my watch to write down the time, I see the numbers 1, 5, and 7. And just like that, I'm reminded of my imaginary score, and I regret checking my watch.
...
Take a left, take a right, and the third door is Counselor Jameson's office.
Classes are in session right now, so the halls are empty. I knock.
Like always, a few seconds of delay.
"You may come in."
Jameson is a strange character. She's an immigrant from Russia--she told me that once--which would explain her no-nonsense attitude. But she's more than just no-nonsense; it's almost like she doesn't care at all about what her students do. And yet, she never fails to arrange my extra-advanced classes when I need them. I try to stay on her good side (if she has one) by smiling and complimenting her short blond hair.
I need her to like me, because she's going to write my college recommendation letters. And you need a pretty good rec letter to get into Harvard.
When she sees it's me, she puts on somewhat of a smile. I take a seat on the blue plush chair and prepare myself for the usual.
The usual, of course, is that thing adults do when they're impressed with me, when they hear about the classes I'm taking at 16 years old.
When they see 99th percentile next to my name, not knowing that it isn't enough, that it could never be enough...
Never is the word bouncing through my head as Jameson begins to speak.
"Well, Miss Iparis. Today is quite the record-breaking day. I received your SAT scores this morning. And I'm proud to say you have achieved the first 1600 in this school's history..."
My eyes grow wide. No way, a perfect score? I really didn't miss any questions? Nobody in this entire school district had ever aced the whole thing, and I just did. I just aced the most important test of my life. All those months of studying paid off, and that number, that beautiful number is now mine: 1600. The maximum, the only score I could ever be proud of... and I'm the first one to get it. Which makes me special. Unique. It's probably enough to get me into Harvard. I must be beaming as I take it all in, sinking into the couch cushions. The first perfect score in this school's history.
"...along with Daniel Wing."