THE UPRISING
DECEMBER. SNOW AND ice setting in. Night skies taking over in the afternoon. If it weren’t for Justin, Celeste would be on the verge of buying one of those anti-seasonal-depression lights. His constant correspondence lifted her spirits more than she could have imagined. There was truly something to be said for waking up to one of his late-night emails or getting a mid-morning text with a picture of his coffee froth.
Today she was between classes when his text came through. A picture of particularly swirly chocolate lines greeted her.
Justin: Frothy Saucy Rorschach Test starts now.
Celeste: Am I to understand that you intend to read into my psyche based on what image I see in this photograph?
Justin: Yes! C’mon! Play along.
Celeste: If you insist. I believe this experiment is as valid as reading tea leaves, but I will comply.
Justin: You have thirty seconds to answer. Don’t overthink this. Tell me what you see.
Celeste: If you are waving your hands in some sort of eerie, mystical way…
Justin: Sorry, sorry. Proceed.
Celeste: I see a gnome on a surfboard.
Celeste: Or possibly hieroglyphics that translate to read, “Wandering leads one to the church of alpine sheep.”
Justin: Fabulous! Based on your interpretations of this image, I decree that you are a woman with unusual religious beliefs who has a latent desire to engage in water activities with ceramic figurines.
Justin: Gotta hop in the shower before class.
Justin: Miss you.
The impulse to scream out and wave her phone to those around her was strong, but instead Celeste bit her lip to keep from smiling. She was sure that no one in her chemistry class was interested in the fact that some boy said he missed her. To Celeste, however, this was a monumental occasion. She read the two words that were so simple and so yet moving. Miss you. She found her seat in the classroom. Replying made her both uncomfortable and exhilarated.
Celeste: I miss you, too. Have a nice day at school.
“Celeste, put your phone away, or I’ll take it.” Her teacher frowned and then turned to the blackboard. “Everyone settle down. Class is starting.”
Zeke, the drummer from the band of her failed audition, Flinch Noggins, tiptoed into the room and slid into the seat in front of her without their teacher noticing. He reached a hand over his shoulder and held his palm up to Celeste. For the second time that day, she fought a smile and lightly tapped her hand to his. That was, she knew, not a bitch slap. It didn’t seem to fit in with Matt’s description of a high-five, though, so she would have to ask him about this hand-to-hand maneuver. Whatever it was, she had pulled it off.
Her concentration was shot today, which she found odd. Focusing on class material, losing herself in it, was her strength. But today there were social distractions, which for Celeste were unfamiliar and overtook even the most challenging and fun of chemical equations. It was all right. She could let her mind drift for one class if she wanted to.
And she did. She wanted to think about Justin and his emails and his spilling things. The way his pale blue/gray eyes were perfectly framed by his light brown eyebrows. She liked his eyebrows, which seemed stupid. One does not obsess about another’s eyebrows. But he did have nice ones. And his hands. Maybe it was because he gestured constantly that night in Harvard Square, but she’d ended up watching his hands closely. There was grace, she felt, in the way he moved them. The way he moved his whole body, really.
Celeste snapped out of her daydreaming when a new fact became utterly clear. Julie was right: she had a crush.
This was a first.
A joyous and devastating first.
Justin was a college student, presumably surrounded by outgoing, social, and fun girls at school. Celeste was not in a league to compete with them. Realistically, he was simply an incredibly nice guy who liked her on a friend level, and that was more than she’d had in ages—and never before with a boy. Therefore, long-distance texts and emails could continue in their current form. Who knew if she’d even see him again?
It was, she acknowledged, probably better that they remain online friends. Very little risk with decent odds for continuation.
But, oh, she wanted to see him again. To watch the way he moved.
The bell sounded loudly, and she jumped in her seat.
Celeste rushed to her locker. It was lunch period, and she wanted very much to finish reading her book. It was one of those days when she was more grateful for e-readers than she could say. Not that she should be embarrassed that she was reading Gone with the Wind, but since she was often found reading literary classics in tattered old bindings, being found reading what was arguably closer to a soap opera felt uncomfortable. But the story was so romantic. Scarlet was out of her mind, Celeste had decided. Celeste found Ashley to be an utter drip, and she did not support Scarlet’s many outrageous choices and behaviors, yet she couldn’t put the story down. The fiery passion, Scarlett’s dedication to getting what she wanted, the dramatic backdrop of the Civil War? It was impossible not to be lured in.
Celeste shoved her bag unceremoniously into her locker and grabbed her lunch card and tablet. If she hurried, she could grab the small table by the exit and keep her back to the room. Abandoning the drama room was a recent change, but she believed it a necessary one. Hiding in a costume closet was borderline bizarre, and frankly she felt to blame for the whole singing audition fiasco. Besides, the cafeteria had actual windows, and therefore sunlight, and one needed a daily dose of vitamin D.
After reading for only five minutes, though, she found herself unable to shut out the conversation from the next table.
“How the hell do I know how to fill out these damn college applications? I don’t know what they want.” Someone let out a grumbling noise and dramatic sigh.
“Right? This personal essay bull is impossible. I’ve got three weeks to get all of these in. I’m drowning,” another person said.
“What if I don’t get in anywhere? Am I going to have to spend another year at home? Oh God, kill me.”
All of her applications had been completed in full months ago. They’d all even been done in time for early decision deadlines had she wanted an early acceptance, but considering that she still had no clue which school she would choose, she had simply submitted them for regular decision. Her visits to UPenn and Princeton this month with Erin had been lovely. Or they should have been lovely. She couldn’t lie to herself; she was shockingly uninspired. Maybe it was just going to be impossible to imagine herself at any college. She would select a college to attend when the time was right.
The unhappy mumblings from the next table continued. Celeste couldn’t help herself. She backed up her chair and walked the few steps to where three miserable looking girls, including Dallas, sat, their food untouched.
“Hello,” Celeste said. She hadn’t spoken to Dallas much. Or at all. But she was standing here now, and she couldn’t very well run off all scatterbrained and the like.. “I am terribly sorry to interrupt you, but overhearing your plight was unavoidable given our close proximity. I might be able to help if you have interest.”
“Hey, Celeste.” Dallas gave her a weak smile. “This is Leighann and Jennifer. What do you mean you could help?”
“I have spent the past five years preparing to apply to colleges, and I have done extensive research on strategies to successfully master the art of submitting applications. If you would like, I could assist you.” Celeste’s heart was pounding, and her voice was trembling in the most appalling way; but she couldn’t let any visceral reactions stop her. She was in the midst of initiating an interaction with her peers—really for the first time in years—and she had absolutely no idea what had propelled her to such foolishness. “The application process is intimidating, even belittling at times, and I could certainly consult should you be interested.”
“Dude, seriously?” Dallas’ eyes widened, and she nudged the girl on her right. “Leighann, is this a dream or what? For real, Celeste, we were just talking last night about how we totally need an application coach or something. And here you are!”
Leighann clasped a hand to her chest. “Really? You’ll help? My parents are no good at this stuff, and the guidance counselor here keeps telling me the same thing over and over. To just be myself, be honest, blah, blah. That’s not going to help me get in anywhere. It’s almost winter break, and the clock is ticking.”
Jennifer pulled out a free chair and motioned for Celeste to sit, and she did, albeit nervously. “I’ve been in that guidance office a zillion times, and it’s not helping. I’m afraid I bombed my campus interviews, too. I don’t know what they want from me.”
The desperation on Jennifer’s face angered Celeste. How could their expensive private school have been failing all of these students so terrifically? The assumption was likely that decent grades from this well-respected high school would automatically result in acceptance at one good school or another.
Before she could gather her thoughts, a hand tapped her on the shoulder.
“Celeste! What’s up?”
She turned to the right to see Zeke shooting past her. “Zeke!” she called. “Wait!”
He backed up. “What’s going on?”
“You may be interested in this conversation given what we spoke about last month. I was in the process of offering to assist the young women at this table with their college applications. If you have not had occasion to previously converse, please make the acquaintance of Dallas, Leighann, and Jennifer. Would you care to join in?”
“Hey, ladies.” Zeke rifled through his backpack and retrieved a messy stack of papers. “These are my attempts at an essay. They’re all horrible, I know. And my extracurriculars don’t sound great. Drummer in going-nowhere band doesn’t exactly have a good ring to it.”
“I would be happy to take a look at what you have written and make suggestions.” Celeste adjusted her seat. “Deadlines are fast approaching, so perhaps we could meet after school every day this week? Essentially, once we have packaged each of you properly with the right essays and such, then applying to multiple schools becomes simple.”
“Do you know anything about applying for scholarships and financial aid?” Zeke asked. “I don’t understand any of the paperwork. They make it so confusing.”
“I could certainly review all of the information and help you. That is not a problem.” She would have to do a lot of research into both of these, but she enjoyed that.
“Okay, so where should we meet?” Leighann asked. “There’s the school library, I guess.”
“God, I’m so sick of being in school,” Dallas said. “Where else? I don’t know. A cafe?”
“Ugh, too noisy.” Jennifer blew bangs out of her eyes.
“There my band’s practice space,” Zeke offered. “Although it is a garage.”
“You’re in a band?” Dallas perked up. “Rad, man.”
Zeke adjusted his messenger bag and smiled. “We do all right.”
“We could work at my house,” Celeste said quickly. “Tonight. There is plenty of room for us there, and it might be more comfortable than the library or a garage, although both serve purposes for other occasions.”
“Perfect.” Dallas smiled. “This is awesome of you, Celeste. How about we come over at, like, six?”
“I’ll bring soda,” Leighann said. “And if I can ask my friend Amber, then I’ll have her bring these double-chocolate cookies that she makes. They’re killer.”
“Certainly. Amber is welcome to attend. Any and all are welcome.”
Celeste was having people to her house. A number of people. She was exhilarated and terrified at the thought. But mostly exhilarated. “It is Monday, and I feel confident that if we work every evening, by Friday night you will all have completed your applications, and colleges will be rioting to secure your acceptance.” She brushed a stray hair back to her ponytail and waited nervously.
“Cool. Text us your address, and we’ll see you tonight,” Zeke said. “I’ll bring pizza. Anything else you want?”
“Laptops will do for tonight.” Celeste paused. “I very much like bacon on my pizza, if no one objects.”
“You got it,” Zeke said as he rose from the table. “What’s your favorite place?”
“Pinocchio’s is quite good, if you do not mind.”
“Anything for Coach Watkins. I have to get to French early. Later.”
“I’ll join you,” Leighann said. “I can’t conjugate the future perfect to save my life. Thanks again, Celeste. You rock for doing this.”
Celeste waved tentatively as they walked away. What an extraordinary exchange she’d just had.
Dallas watched Zeke as he left the room and then turned back to Celeste. “How come you never talked to me again after I gave you that book?” she asked directly. “I only got one dry text from you.”
Celeste was taken aback. “I apologize.”
Dallas crossed her arms. “It’s okay if you didn’t want to be friends. I get it.”
Celeste shook her head. “That’s not it at all.” She slowly sat down, thinking about how to respond. “I was not sure that your reaching out to me was sincere.”
“Well, it was.”
“Again, I apologize.”
Dallas examined her long nails which were painted deep burgundy, each with a small diamond-like gem at the tips. “So if I lend you another book, then you’ll text me back from now on? And you’ll return the book?”
“Yes,” Celeste said as she blushed. “How awful of me to have held on to the book. I am very embarrassed. Perhaps I might offer you a book recommendation. As a sign of my regret and my inclination toward friendship.”
“Yeah? What book?”
“Have you read Margaret Mitchell?”
Dallas shook her head.
Celeste smiled. “Then I have a particularly epic saga that you will enjoy immensely. I shall pass on my original paperback to you this evening.”
“I could use a good romance. I broke up with Troy a few weeks ago.”
“I did not know that.”
“If you’d been talking to me, then you would have.” Dallas winked. “But now you know.”
“I am sorry to hear that. You seemed to like him quite a bit. We will keep you so very busy this week that you will not notice any lingering heartache.”
“Cool beans.” Dallas walked a few feet away and then turned back. “I’m really psyched we’re going to hang out.”
“I, too, am psyched,” Celeste said. “Cool beans, indeed.”
She returned to her table. Although she was alone now, she did not feel lonely. It wasn’t clear to her exactly what she felt. But she was calm. Steady.
Or so she thought until it took three tries for her to type in the correct login password on her tablet. She made herself focus. A lesson plan of sorts was required here. Staring at a blinking cursor for five minutes put her into a trance-like state. What was she going to do? Hand out copies of an outline? Her peers would be bored. They’d all seen enough dry preparatory material to last a lifetime. Real-world guidance was what was needed. Perhaps she could provide a sample application and walk them through from start to finish.
Celeste wiggled her toes as she opened a browser. For instance, she could fill out another application online tonight. Like, say, the Barton College application. Just as an example. As a random school. It could be any application. She may as well use the Barton one. Her fingers trembled as she created a username and password, which she thought was plain silly, because she was nothing if not highly competent at filling out applications for higher learning. And it wasn’t as though she would be required to hit a button to actually submit the application.
There was no need to take it that far.
That night, sixteen people showed up at her house. People brought people who brought people. When Celeste said that “any and all are welcome,” it never occurred to her that the group would grow to such a number. It was a good thing that the living room was large enough to accommodate everyone who was now sprawled out on the couch, two arm chairs, and the floor. Erin and Roger appeared to be as surprised as Celeste was each time the doorbell rang.
“Why haven’t you had any of your friends over before?” her father asked. “We’ve wanted to meet your comrades for so long.”
“I… I am a private person,” Celeste stammered under her breath. “What is more important right now is that we do not appear to have sufficient food and drink for our guests. This is quickly becoming a disaster. Only a few people brought what I believe are called ‘munchies,’ and we are perilously low before the instruction has even started.”
“Your parents are here to rescue you. Erin and I will run to the supermarket for snacks, and we’ll pick up more pizza too.”
“Thank you. That is most kind. Perhaps some paper plates and cups, too?” Celeste clenched her hands and shook them out. “I should get started.”
“This is lovely.” Erin made a cheering gesture that caused Celeste to roll her eyes. “Young people gathering together for a common cause. It’s like an anti-war group from the sixties. Oh, there’s the door again.”
“I shall answer it,” Celeste said quickly as she rushed from the living room. Erin seemed likely to enthusiastically fling her arms around the next person to enter the house.
Dallas was at the door, and Celeste’s relief was immeasurable. She barely knew any of the other students currently occupying the living room, and Dallas’s presence felt grounding. “You have changed the color of your hair again. Lavender is quite nice on you.”
“Thanks, babe.” Dallas shook her head. “Something different for me. Look, I brought Swedish fish.” She held up a bag. “And other fun treats.”
“Thank you. Please make yourself at home,” Celeste said nervously.
Dallas followed her into the living room. Celeste scanned the sea of faces and locked eyes with Zeke. He widened his eyes and tipped his head slightly to his left side where there was a free spot.
She stepped delicately around students and led Dallas to a place by an end table. “There is adequate seating right here next to Zeke. He is the drummer for Flinch Noggins whom you met earlier today. Zeke, you remember Dallas, I am sure.”
Dallas and Zeke were transfixed on each other, neither evidently capable of speaking.
Celeste cleared her throat. “Perhaps you would care to offer Zeke something to eat.”
“Okay,” Dallas said without moving.
“Zeke would you care for something called Swedish fish?” Celeste took the bag from Dallas’ hand and frowned. “Or… pickled green beans? Or canned blueberries?”
“Any of those sound awesome,” he said breathlessly.
Dallas looked as though she might faint.
Celeste put a hand on Dallas’ back and gave her a small push forward. “Okay, then, wonderful. Such a colorful assortment of snack options. Why don’t you have a seat, and we can begin.”
She worked her way to the outskirts of the living room and surveyed the scene in front of her. The chatter died down as the students became aware that the college application discussion was going to begin. She could choose to be terrified and collapse right then and there, or she could choose to rise to the occasion. This gathering was her doing, and these people were now counting on her. Collapsing was not a smart option. And Celeste was smart.
So she faced them head on and forced a smile. “Welcome, everyone. I did not realize there would be so many of you here tonight, but I will do my best to lend any wisdom I have about how to tackle college applications.” She took a deep breath. Everyone looked more worried than she felt. It was her job to inspire and empower, so do that she would. “This can be a most intimidating process. High school guidance counselors have the best of intentions, but their advice can often be rote and uninspired. Our futures are undecided. We do not know where we will be living next year, where we will be creating new lives. We are all on the brink of magnanimous change.” She could hear her voice rising, her confidence growing. “Options are important, so together we will work to increase the margin for acceptance at multiple schools by delivering the most spellbinding applications these colleges and universities have ever seen. We will help ourselves and help our comrades! We will not be pushed aside any longer! We must fight the system and chase the dream!”
“Sing it, coach!” a boy she barely recognized yelled. “Let’s do it!”
He clapped his hands together loudly a few times, and soon the room was applauding. For her. Although she knew she had likely turned redder than Dallas’s canned cherries and she waved her hand dismissively, she did understand that something very nice was happening here. There would be time to question it later. Right now, she had a revolution to lead.
Celeste raised a fist into the air. “A change is gonna come!”