I just sat there, my eyes glazed over; they were beginning to hurt. I already had the thickest glasses. What more did they want? 

I just sat there, my face illuminated by the ghoulish-blue light screen. I had been looking at that computer since five in the afternoon. It was already eight o’clock in the evening. I had skipped dinner and snack time for this and felt like looking at nothing but food right now, but Harvard had already told me that I was going to receive something today, March 15th, 2021, at exactly 8:00 p.m.. 

Just to be sure,  I would give them a couple more minutes. 

It was almost as if Harvard were ghosting me, like my friends had ghosted me at CrossySushi last Friday when they told me repeatedly that they would come. Two hours had gone by and the four cups of genmaicha had gone cold before I realized that I had been stood up. When some people finally recognized the real me, the inner me, it always went wrong; they would ghost me. It didn't surprise me that Harvard would do the same. 

For as long as I could remember, I had been the most unpopular person at school; nobody thought I would be cool enough to hang out with, so I was left alone in the commons, silently reading the final pages of The Great Gatsby or some other classic the YA community disdained. 

If I got into Harvard, then I would be able to prove to those girls who had ditched me who I really was, and what I was capable of being.

Just as I was about to switch tabs to watch TheOdd1sOut to keep my sanity, an email appeared at the top of my screen. It wasn't from my cousin telling me there was a new episode of Modern Family, either. It was an email from Harvard University.

I hollered to my parents across the hall from my room, “Mom, Dad! Harvard replied!” I could hear the approach of my mom’s panicky, shrill voice offset by the calm reassurance of my dad’s and the door creaking open as they stepped in. 

My parents thought it would be ‘fun’ to organize and host a Zoom call so that my extended family could witness the event virtually. My mom opened the app on her phone while I scrolled through my inbox to find her email with the link. I could feel the 'virtual' tension as I ‘sat’ in the waiting room, until my mom figured out how to let us in. I couldn’t help but think what a loser I would be if my college essay didn’t stand out from the others, and Harvard rejected me, leaving my family to think the worst of me. The very idea was incredibly worrying to me. 

I glanced at my screen and watched as faces began to emerge via Zoom. Some cameras were focused on actual faces,  some on random objects. My cousin’s screen, bottom left, was interesting. Unbeknownst to my aunt, he’d activated the puppy filter. Some kids unmuted themselves without even noticing and were blurting out nonsense, and my three-year-old cousin Malta, left alone with the camera, started using ridiculous virtual backgrounds; the one of the bunny rabbit eating a carrot was oddly soothing. Another cousin was filling the chat room with lame jokes like, “Annoying Orange” and riddles like “Why was six afraid of seven?” It was a typical family reunion. 

After my family had been assembled on the Zoom call, and the twenty tiny and large faces filled the boxes on the screen, we all watched as I slowly dragged the cursor to the email that would decide my future. 

I took my index finger off of the track-pad and looked at my parents anxiously for support. My mom reached down and put her hand gently on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Honey. No matter the results, we still love you with all our hearts.” 

All of my relatives on Zoom cheered for me. I blushed fiercely.

I shared my screen and clicked on the email. It took a while to load before the entire message filled the screen. The whole family gasped.

 “Ah, please. I haven’t even read it yet!” 

They all sighed. 

“Dear Meredith McAllister, 
The Committee of Admissions has completed its Regular Decision meeting and I am very sorry to inform you that we cannot offer you admission to the class of 2025…” 

My family tried to comfort me, but I couldn’t find peace anywhere in the fact that I had just been rejected by the most prestigious college in the world. What could be worse than this?

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see all of the relatives on my mom’s phone lean forward in their chairs, on their sofas, and across their desks. They were squinting at my screen. My third cousin, Olivia, pointed past my face and onto my computer. I could only just imagine what they were looking at. (I’m being sarcastic.) They were looking at my defeat for themselves. 

Suddenly, a voice creaked over the screen. It was my grandma’s voice. “Your grandfather would like to tell you something. It’s concerning your college admissions, Darling. Don’t be sad. You tell her yourself, Elijah.”

My grandfather leaned forward and the screen went dark.

My grandmother’s calm voice said, “Elijah, you just turned off the camera. Here, let me do it for you.” 

The screen turned on, and the audio turned off. We could see my grandmother trying not to get annoyed with my grandfather, as she mouthed silent words to him. I waited anxiously to hear what he wanted to say. 

“Meredith, I want to say something to you.” Well, that was very obvious. “Meredith, I think you might want to look under the email Harvard sent you.”

I just sat there at my desk staring straight at my grandfather, not quite understanding what he was trying to say. Was this some weird way of saying look for the silver lining?
 
My eight-year-old cousin Mariah shouted into the Zoom call, “Meredith! Look in your email!" 

University of Pennsylvania? I sat back in shock and confusion. I had applied to the University of Pennsylvania a long time ago, when my best friend, Liz, told me how amazing the medical apprenticeship program was. I thought they would ghost me, like I’d assumed Harvard had. They hadn’t. Their mail must have come in right before the email from Harvard.

My family could tell by my look I didn’t know what was going on. I turned back to my screen, pinching the skin between my thumb and index finger; however, no matter how many times I blinked, there was indeed another email near the top of my inbox, just under the rejection letter from Harvard. 

Slowly, I dragged the cursor to the email, clicked, and waited for it to load. It popped up, in full view.

Something was different about this email. It had seventy-eight words, and when I scanned them, none of the words were, “We regret to inform you.” There was one phrase, though, that stood out to me: Welcome, Meredith McAllister.

Wait.

“I got in?” I asked, gazing up at my gobsmacked parents.