Page 74 of Exchanged

Garrett remains his charming self, but every time his college plans surface, he changes the topic, as if he cares less about Ellison than the rest of us do. So we talk about the things we’ve always talked about. Dad complains about the inept Irontown Chamber of Commerce. Aunt Liz gushes about each dish our server brings out. Garrett and Emma delve into a debate about the most recent Star Wars movie.

I want this to be forever, I think, watching Garrett break into incredulous laughter at something Emma said. I want to always feel like this. The thought is fierce and brief, a fire flaring up in my consciousness. But then it vanishes as quickly as it came, because I know that what we have is temporary, that he is not meant to stay here forever, and neither am I. Our futures are beginning to feel so solid, so inevitable, and I can’t imagine how they’ll include the both of us together.

A month later, the school holds a banquet for seniors receiving scholarships from local businesses. They say it’s a chance to recognize us for our hard work, but I think it’s mostly so that business owners can feel good about themselves and get some positive publicity. I’m receiving a music scholarship from the credit union, so on the night of the banquet, my family heads over to the school.

We arrive at the cafeteria right before the banquet is about to start, weaving our way through the crowd of parents and seniors milling around tables adorned with fake flowers. We find a spot at a table with Trevor, Katrina, and their families, and we settle in.

Ms. Hammond approaches the podium, and the room quiets. “Welcome!” she intones. “Thank you for setting aside this evening to celebrate our most talented, hardworking seniors. Before we begin the dinner portion of the evening, we’ll have a short program. When their name is called, each senior will come up here and meet the benefactor who has awarded their scholarship. Please hold applause until the end.”

“They’re making us get recognized?” I say.

Dad raises his eyebrows. “You thought this was just about free food?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Kind of.”

Even now, Ryan Beltrami is striding to the front of the room to receive a scholarship for cross-country runners. While he walks, Ms. Hammond reads from her tablet, describing Ryan’s plans to attend Michigan Tech to study engineering.

“How did Ms. Hammond know where he’s going?” I whisper to Katrina.

“Probably from that form Ms. Ferris had us fill out in government class,” she says.

I vaguely remember the form. She had told us it was only for the school’s records. Someone had asked what they should put under the college decision section if they hadn’t yet decided, and Ms. Ferris said to write whatever school we were leaning toward at the moment and then to stop by the guidance office once we made our official decision.

My face suddenly feels numb, my ears ringing with the sound of two out-of-tune piccolos attempting to play in unison.

Garrett, noticing my expression, leans over and whispers, “It’s okay, Enz. You’ll have to get used to public recognition once you’re a famous composer.”

The audience, ignoring Ms. Hammond’s instructions, claps loudly as Ryan returns to his seat. I haven’t told anyone at this table. My family has been pestering me for weeks about whether I’ve heard anything from Burton-Clark, and I’ve pretended I haven’t. I told Garrett that I’m going there.

Katrina is called to the front, having earned the Makinen Family Award for Excellence, the scholarship that goes to the valedictorian each year. Our whole table cheers boisterously, and she makes a face and trots forward to receive her certificate and fake check. Ms. Hammond describes Katrina’s plan to attend St. Olaf College to major in biology.

Tyler’s name is called—followed by deafening cheers from the audience—to receive a scholarship from the football booster club to attend the University of Wisconsin–Madison, and we’re another senior closer to my college being announced.

I glance around at the table. My family, Katrina, Trevor, Garrett: They can’t find out like this. I’ve been avoiding telling everyone because I needed time to think. I needed to take everything in and make this choice without disappointing anyone or getting anyone’s hopes up. There is so much riding on my choice next year, and I feel like, no matter what decision I make, someone will be upset.

But now, because I didn’t trust them, these people I care most about will find out my decision at the same time as everyone else.

“Garrett,” I say as Kelly Chambers winds her way back to her spot. “Can we talk in the hallway really quick?”

His eyebrows pull together. “Now?”

“It’s important,” I say. “It’s about—”

“And finally,” Ms. Hammond calls, the ceremony having arrived at the lone music scholarship, “Enzo Rossi!”

The world is rushing. My table is cheering, but their faces are blurry, their sound muted. I’m halfway between sitting and standing when Ms. Hammond’s voice cuts through the fog. “Next year, Enzo will be majoring in music composition at the University of Michigan!”

I stand, frozen at my seat, the eyes of everyone at my table boring into me. The applause peters out, engulfing the room in a heavy silence.

“You applied to U of M?” Dad says. “And you didn’t tell us?”

“I don’t understand,” Aunt Liz says, and the confusion in her eyes makes my stomach clench.

“It’s okay,” Garrett tells the table. “There must have been a mistake. Obviously Enzo’s going to—” He freezes at the expression on my face. “Enz? You told them. Right?”

“Told us what?” Emma asks.

“Nothing,” I say, which is true.