I ignore her and type back pad see yew out of pure spite, because I know Kitty prefers pad thai.
That’s when I get the e-mail notification. It’s from UNC admissions. My application has been updated. I click on the link. Congratulations . . .
I’m off the wait list.
What in the what?
I sit there, stunned, reading it over and over. I, Lara Jean Song Covey, was accepted to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. I can’t believe it. I never thought I’d get in. But I’m in.
“Lara Jean? Hello?”
Startled, I look up.
“I just asked you a question three times. What’s up with you?”
“Um . . . I think I just got in to UNC Chapel Hill.”
Kitty’s jaw drops. “Whoa!”
“Weird, right?” I shake my head in wonder. Who’d have ever thought it? Not me. I’d all but forgotten about UNC after I got wait-listed.
“UNC is a really hard school to get into, Lara Jean!”
“I know.” I’m still in a daze. After I didn’t get into UVA, I felt so low, like I wasn’t good enough to be there. But UNC! It’s even harder to get into UNC out of state than it is UVA in state.
Kitty’s smile fades a little. “But aren’t you going to William and Mary? Didn’t you already send in your deposit? And aren’t you transferring to UVA next year anyway?”
UVA. For those few seconds, I forgot about transferring to UVA and I was just happy about UNC. “That’s the plan,” I say. My phone buzzes, and my heart jumps, thinking it’s Peter, but’s it’s not. It’s a text from Chris.
Wanna go to Starb
I write back, GUESS WHAT. I got into UNC!
OMG!
I’m calling you
A second later my phone rings and Chris screams, “Holy shit!”
“Thank you! I mean, wow. I just . . . it’s such a great school. I figured—”
“So what are you going to do?” she demands.
“Oh.” I glance over at Kitty, who is watching with eagle eyes. “Nothing. I’m still going to William and Mary.”
“But isn’t UNC a better school?”
“It’s higher ranked. I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”
“Let’s go,” she says.
“To visit? When?”
“Right now! Spontaneous road trip!”
“Are you crazy? It’s four hours away!”
“No it’s not. It’s only three hours and twenty-five minutes. I just looked it up.”
“By the time we get there, it’ll be—”
“Six o’clock. Big deal. We’ll walk around, get dinner, and then drive back. Why not! We’re young. And you need to know what you’re saying no to.” Before I can protest again, she says, “I’m picking you up in ten minutes. Pack some snacks for the road.” Then she hangs up.
Kitty is eyeing me. “You’re going to North Carolina? Right now?”
I’m feeling pretty euphoric at the moment. I laugh and say, “I guess!”
“Does that mean you’re going there instead of William and Mary?”
“No, it’s just—I’m just going to visit. Nothing’s changed. Don’t tell Daddy, though.”
“Why not?”
“Just—because. You can tell him I’m with Chris, and that I won’t be at dinner, but don’t mention anything about UNC.”
And then I’m getting dressed and flying around the house like a banshee, throwing things into a tote. Dried wasabi peas, Pocky sticks, bottled water. Chris and I have never gone on a road trip together before; I’ve always wanted to do that with her. And what would it hurt to just look at Chapel Hill, just to see? I won’t be going there, but it’s still fun to think about.
Chris and I are halfway to Chapel Hill before I realize my phone is dying and I forgot to pack my charger. “Do you have a car charger?” I ask her.
She’s singing along to the radio. “Nope.”
“Shoot!” We’ve eaten up most of her phone battery using the GPS, too. I feel a little uneasy about traveling out of state without a full charge on my phone. Plus, I told Kitty not to tell Daddy where I was going. What if something were to happen? “What time are we getting back, do you think?”
“Quit worrying, Granny Lara Jean. We’ll be fine.” She rolls down her window and mine and starts fumbling around for her purse. I get her purse from the floor of the backseat and pull out her cigarettes before she wrecks the car. When we’re at a red light, she lights her cigarette and inhales deeply. “We’ll be like pioneers. It just adds to the adventure. Our forefathers didn’t have cell phones either, you know.”
“Just remember, we’re only going to look. I’m still going to William and Mary.”
“You just remember—options are everything,” Chris says.
That’s what Margot’s always telling me. Those two have more in common than they think.
We spend the rest of the trip surfing radio stations and singing along and talking about whether or not Chris should dye her hair pink in the front. I’m surprised by how fast the time goes. We get to Chapel Hill in just under three hours and thirty minutes, like Chris said we would. We find a parking spot right on Franklin Street, which I guess is their main street. The first thing that strikes me is how similar UNC’s campus is to UVA’s. Lots of maple trees, lots of green, lots of brick buildings.
“It’s so pretty, isn’t it?” I stop to admire a pink flowering dogwood tree. “I’m surprised they have so many dogwood trees, since it’s Virginia’s state flower. What do you suppose is North Carolina’s state flower?”
“No idea. Can we please eat? I’m starving.” Chris has the attention span of a fly, and when she is hungry, everybody better watch out.
I put my arm around her waist. I’m suddenly feeling very tender toward her for taking me on this trip to see what might have been. “Let’s fill that belly up, then. What do you want? Pizza? A hoagie? Chinese food?”
She puts her arm around my shoulder. Her mood is already picking up at the mention of different cuisines. “You pick. Anything but Chinese food. Or pizza. You know what, let’s get sushi.”
A couple of guys pass on the street, and Chris calls out, “Hey!”
They turn around. “What’s up?” one says. He’s black, handsome, tall, with muscular arms in a CAROLINA WRESTLING T-shirt.
“Where’s the best sushi around here?” Chris asks.
“I don’t eat sushi, so I can’t really say.” He looks at his red-haired friend, who is less cute but still cute. “Where do you go?”
“Spicy Nine,” he says, eyeing Chris. “Just go down Franklin that way and you’ll run right into it.” He winks at her, and they go back to walking in the other direction.
“Should we go after them?” she says, her eyes following them as they walk away. “Find out what they’re up to tonight?”
I steer her in the direction they pointed us to. “I thought you were hungry,” I remind her.
“Oh yeah,” she says. “So that’s one point in the UNC column, am I right? Hotter guys?”
“I’m sure William and Mary has good-looking guys too.” Quickly I add, “Not that it matters to me, because I obviously have a boyfriend.” Who still hasn’t called, mind you. My phone is down to 5 percent, so by the time he does, it’ll be too late.