Second semester will get better, had to get better, Madison thought. If nothing else, through sheer force of will, perhaps she could make it better. And if she told enough people that things were going to go well this time around, said it out loud repeatedly, maybe she could even convince herself.
But one thing had to happen first: She needed to quit track. Quitting. Madison had trouble wrapping her mind around that word. She had never quit anything. She was an athlete, had always identified as an athlete. By third grade, she was going to soccer practice multiple times a week—the drills conducted by adults, everything regulated and clearly the start of Madison’s march toward continual improvement, both in academics and athletics. Some sort of end goal existed, even if in those earliest years she couldn’t quite name it. And then, just before starting middle school, she and her best friend at the time, MJ, had confided in each other that they each wanted to play sports in college. It was her lifelong dream. Yet here she was, just one semester into running track at Penn, wishing she could stop, hoping someone would recognize that she desperately needed to stop.
About halfway down I-95, Madison turned to her dad. “You know I don’t want to go back,” she said.
“I know,” Jim said. “I understand that.”
He tightened his grip on the wheel. The road flew beneath the tires. Penn was drawing closer with each passing minute.
“Let’s just keep driving,” he said. “We could go to North Carolina, to Chapel Hill. We could just keep driving past the exit and you could visit it, see if you like it.”
Jim loved Chapel Hill. His sister, Mary, and her husband, Scott, had attended North Carolina. Jim had also gone to school in North Carolina, at High Point University, where he played tennis. The school didn’t have the same name recognition, the same clout, as the prestigious East Coast institutions, the vaunted Ivy League, but he had loved his time there. The best four years of his life. He still kept in touch with his college friends.
Madison shook her head. “We can’t,” she said. “We’re having lunch with Ingrid.”
Jim persisted, told his daughter again about his experience in college, about the friends he had made, how he had worked hard but never felt the kind of paralyzing pressure that she seemed to be feeling.
Maddy put down her phone and let her eyes drift toward the window. “You don’t know how lucky you are,” she said almost wistfully.
“You can have that, too,” he said. “I promise.”
She shook her head.
“Well, how do you feel about transferring?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Vanderbilt could be an option.”
Over winter break, she had started looking into Vanderbilt. The school had strong athletics and academics; plus, it was close to Ashley.
In that moment, the word “Vanderbilt” no longer represented a group of distinguished buildings in Nashville, boys in penny loafers and sorority girls drifting from class to class. The school represented something much more elusive: hope. At least Madison was still considering solutions. At least she was still problem solving. This thought soothed Jim.
“Let’s plan a visit down there,” he said.
“Yeah,” Madison replied, noncommittal. “That would be good.”
A few minutes later, with Exit 4 fast approaching, Jim turned on his blinker and slowly eased the car off the highway. They cut through New Jersey, past the gas stations and fast-food joints and strip malls, then crossed the Ben Franklin Bridge, and soon enough the ivy-covered buildings of Penn were just outside their windows.
Ingrid Hung was Madison’s best friend at Penn. Ingrid’s sister Nicole played basketball for Princeton, which is how Ingrid and Maddy had connected, and also why Ingrid had returned early to school. Ingrid was from California, and she and Maddy talked frequently about spending time in Los Angeles that summer. Madison had always wanted to visit the Golden State, so she was thrilled to have a friend from Pasadena, and she sent Ashley a message on Facebook talking about how they should all go west for a week or two in July. Ingrid had come to school in Philly in large part because she had been recruited for the crew team. But now, just like Maddy, Ingrid wanted to quit. She wanted to experience college without the demands of practice and meets.
Freedom. She and Maddy talked about this all the time.
Jim and Madison met Ingrid at Baby Blues BBQ, which was just across the street from Maddy’s dorm, between Chestnut Street and Walnut. Inside the quirky space, the first floor of a renovated townhouse, the two friends easily fell back into a rhythm. They’d stayed in touch over break, texting frequently, and even though they’d known each other only a few months, both seemed to believe the relationship would last.
AH you are actually the cutest and best person ever. THANK YOU BEST FRAND!!!!!!!!!! I was going to send ya a long message before your flight left tomorrow but I guess I’ll just do it now. Here goes! So in all honesty I don’t know what I would have done without you this semester. Even though it took a little time to find each other, and while we are both still in the long and tedious process of finding ourselves (lol will we ever??), I can say that with you here it’s made the transition a lot easier. And by no means did I expect the transition to be THIS hard, but each day things are getting better, and I know we will make the most out of second semester and not let the time slip away without loving the rest of our time here. So thank you again for being YOU and becoming one of my best friends. Even though it’s only been a couple of months I can confidently say that I hope we stay friends for life. And maybe even pretty soon you can show me some things to do in Cali . So second semester let’s vow to live it up, continue our lunch dates at huntsman, not lose each other when we go out (get leashes), not black out (possible?), sing more karaoke at blarney, get into those damn sororities, and accomplish tasks on our soon-to-be-made bucket list. Also ace that Chinese final tomorrow… REP YOUR RACE!!!!!! Once again thank you and I love ya with all my heart
At lunch, Maddy seemed to light up around Ingrid, the two of them brainstorming how they would make second semester great. Ingrid brought with her a copy of The Happiness Project, the bestselling book about one woman’s yearlong pursuit of joy. Jim listened as they talked about rushing for sororities. How did it work, exactly? Neither knew for sure, but they cobbled together bits and pieces. They knew the process would start in earnest the following weekend, and they spoke breathlessly about what that might entail.
Jim smiled as he paid the check. Maddy seemed genuinely excited to see Ingrid. And Jim couldn’t help but stockpile these moments, these small reassurances that offered him a brief respite from worry.