The dorm was still and dark. Lights out had been called three hours before. A waft of cool New Hampshire air rustled the leaves on the imposing red oak outside my window. I tucked my head under the sheets and stared at my cellphone screen. The sound of steady breathing assured me my roommate was asleep. Silent tears wet my face. I choked back sobs. Inner conflict and indecision overwhelmed me. Several times I picked up the phone, tapping letters on the screen. Several times I stopped, overcome by guilt and fear. Emotion won out in the end.
“R u up?” Send.
Despite the hour, my mom responded instantly. “Yes. Why? R u ok?”
I tapped out the message that would change the course of my life. “I am having second thoughts.” Send.
For two years, I had begged my parents to let me go to boarding school up north. My passion for ski racing was not being quenched on Pennsylvania slopes, and the hours logged driving from Maryland to northern training venues had become wearing. I had achieved excellent grades freshman year, but I worried my academics would eventually suffer due to my rigorous winter schedule. I wanted a place where I could balance it all. And it seemed I had found it at a small northeastern boarding school with a reputation for top-flight academics and a nationally known ski program. My parents gave me the nod.
Three days into school, my soccer teammates sprawled on couches in the lounge, sucking down Gatorades after practice. The talk turned to classes and then to cheating. They casually tossed around the word as if it were a mundane, accepted practice. They made it clear their goals were to attain ski scholarships, not knowledge. One guy passed around his cellphone, sharing inappropriate photographs of girls. Others talked about smoking weed as nonchalantly as they might have discussed the day's lunch menu. No one spoke in whispers. I said nothing, but inside a sick feeling gripped my stomach. The truth sunk in and hit hard. I had made the worst decision of my life.
“Do you want to talk?” Mom texted.
“I can't. Everyone's asleep.”
“Please tell me what's going on.”
I gulped in air. “I don't see myself here,” I began. “I don't think the academics are good and it seems like everything revolves around athletics. I don't care enough about skiing to sacrifice academics.”
My fingers flew across the screen as my desperation spilled out. “It's not cool to be smart here, and it seems like there's no honor code.” I ended with a question, more to myself than my mom. “Why,” I asked (and you could hear the anguish, as if I had said it aloud), “did I say I wanted to come here?”
I stopped. Waited. She responded within seconds.
“I love you and I want what you want. Dad and I will be there tomorrow.”
One day later, I returned to Landon. I have never looked back.
