“What’s the deal?”
“Outside,” Leila said, shaking her head as Sarika squeezed her hand. “I was going to go plant Major Willow.” She nodded at the sapling, and Sarika followed her gaze, looking back at her with a smile. “That’s a good name and you know it.”
“Yeah, I do. Go on.”
“It’s just the usual voices, but . . .” Leila said, drifting off as though everything was just knocked out of her. Her shoulders sunk and she wanted to disappear into the folds in the couch. “This time, though,” she squinted, thinking. “I heard a laugh, I think? And the whispers, they were . . . Sarika, I swear I almost understood them. I don’t know. Something about woods? A house, maybe? It’s like, in the back of my head somewhere, and I just can’t pluck it out.”
“Did you tell Jon or Liz yet?” Sarika asked, a warning in her voice.
“No,” Leila said, sternly. “Hell no, of course not. Not when everything is going so well. I like it here. What if they send me back or something? Can they do that? Now that, you know, all this is a thing?” She motioned at herself and the house, and found herself struggling over saying the word adopted, just as difficult to push out of her mouth as words like mom and dad. “And this time, the thing is, I think . . . I think it wants me to follow it. The voices.”
“Leila—” Sarika started, that warning tone returning.
“No, really, it’s not like back at the group home or the other times in the coffee shop,” Leila said, taking a deep breath. Back then, the voices were soft, distant, but still strangely welcoming. A curiosity, almost. Sometimes she welcomed the company, standing outside, listening to the muttering as she let the sun wash over her. Other times, she found herself holed up in the closet with Sarika, shaking, wanting them to go away, muttering words that she thought might keep her grounded, keep her safe. The voices came and went with the seasons, it seemed. They faded and disappeared with the winter, and rampaged back loudly in the spring.
“I mean, I’m not going to. Follow them.” Leila stressed. “I’m not. But it feels, it felt . . . real this time.”
“Listen,” Sarika said, squeezing her hand even tighter. “You’ve pulled through it before. You’ll get through it again. We’ll just keep it between us, okay? Always.”
“Yeah, always,” Leila said, squeezing her hand back.
Although she wasn’t so sure about that anymore. These new labels, the whole mom and dad thing, it made things feel different. Complicated.
But Jon and Liz didn’t seem like the types to drop her because something was wrong. It had nagged at Leila, ever since that day with the willow tree, the day of the hurricane. She’d cried the whole way to the hospital, and not because of the gash in her hand. If she could tell anyone about the voices, she would tell them. There was medicine for all this, wasn’t there? They had money, at least it seemed like they did. They could make it all go away. They wouldn’t send her back like others had, when they caught her sitting up in her bed, trying to speak to whoever was on the other line of those whispers, half-awake, half-asleep.
Leila looked down at the scar on her hand, tracing the jagged, white line that trailed along the natural patterns on her palm.
“Is it still happening?” Sarika asked, looking at her, eyes full of worry.
“No,” Leila said, shaking her head, her curls jostling about. “It’s gone. They stopped a little after I texted you.”
“Oh my God, did you see what Toothless posted, about his internship essay?” Sarika said, and Leila found herself grateful for the immediate change of subject. Sarika was good at reading her like that.
“Internship essay?” Leila asked, grinning.
“He’s trying to be a landscaping person in the park or something.” Sarika laughed loudly. “The perfect job for that guy, I swear! He won’t have to interact with a single human being.”
“Did you read it?” Leila asked, curious.
“Of course not!” Sarika scoffed. “I should have flagged it as spam or something, but it’s our solemn duty as board administrators to be better than the trolls.”
“Mm. So true, so very true,” Leila said, shaking her head in faux respect.
They sat there on the couch for a beat in silence.
“So do you want to read it right now?” Leila asked, smiling.
“OH MY GOD YES!” Sarika exclaimed.
They both pulled out their phones, laughing together madly, and Leila forgot about the whispering as they both flipped to the board.
THREAD: Internship Essay, Some Thoughts?
SUBFORUM: COLLEGE + GRADUATE SCHOOL
Internship Essay, Some Thoughts?
Posted by Toothless
JUNE 18th, 2015 | 2:04PM
Hey all. It should really come as no surprise to any of you who know me that I’ve applied to be an intern with the city’s park service, helping maintain Fairmount Park. If you’re not from Philadelphia, it’s one of the biggest and the best urban parks in the United States. Anyhow, they’re doing some new hip essay thing, where you only have to write like 250 words. So I promise it’ll be short and painless. Thoughts appreciated.
“As someone who was born and raised in the Philadelphia region, I’ve come to admire the Fairmount Park system not just as an urban oasis, but as an emotional refuge. I come from a family of doctors and lawyers and other clichés, and since graduating high school, have been pushed to pursue the same path. But like the trees that grow in the deepest parts of the city’s patch of wilderness, I refuse to be held back. My roots know where they want to go, and I’d like to take hold in Fairmount Park and help maintain the city’s wild treasure.”
RE: Internship Essay, Some Thoughts?
Posted by NY in PA
JUNE 25th, 2015 | 3:04PM
Best urban park system? Don’t you mean Central Park in New York City?
RE: Internship Essay, Some Thoughts?
Posted by Toothless
JUNE 25th, 2015 | 3:06PM
No.
RE: Internship Essay, Some Thoughts?
Posted by Toothless
AUGUST 5th, 2017 | 2:04PM
BUMP. Hey everyone. So way back when I applied for this internship with the city, and never really updated it with much. But I got it. Two years later, but still. I got it. Thanks to everyone who sent me private messages with notes and suggestions, and to NY in PA, you can go eff yourself.
_____
“Ah,” Sarika said, her mouth twisting up. “It’s an old post from forever ago that he bumped up, look at the time stamp. Looks like he was just not-so-humble-bragging or whatever.” She clicked off her phone and tossed it onto the sofa.
“Kinda sad that the only person who replied was that jerk with the comment,” Leila said, flicking at the screen.
“Psh, is it, though?” Sarika replied. “He’s usually the one that’s the jerk. He deserves to get sassed. He’s the worst.”
“Good for him, I guess,” Leila said, shrugging. It was hard to feel terribly excited for a guy on their message board who was so overly negative about absolutely everything all the time. Anytime someone had a happy announcement or planned a board get-together, he was there, trolling away, being a buzzkill. The board was supposed to be a happy reprieve from school and foster life. There they could rant and rage about the things that bothered them in the outside world, like the environment, local policies, and area parks, without being attacked by people in that outside world for wanting to share an opinion.
And the worst part was, he sometimes had interesting things to say, like this rough-draft essay of his. But of course that sort of stuff always got overlooked because no one liked him. Months ago, he mentioned saving that birch tree in his backyard. If Leila had to choose a second favorite tree, after her willow, it would be that one.
It was a tree that made soda. How do you not love that kind of tree?
Leila always shook it off. He was just some faceless Internet stranger, and it annoyed her that it was so easy to get worked up over someone she didn’t even know a single thing about.