9th grade. July.

Tamarind:

In between my classes, my filing job, my SAT/ACT prep course, and volunteering for Food for the Spirit on the weekends, I’ve been working through the books on the summer reading list assigned by my tenth grade English teacher. Next, I’ll be paging through the other books that will be covered during the rest of year in English class, along with those on my AP U.S. History syllabus. How to Get in College says that if you familiarize yourself with next year’s classes during summer, then you’ll have an easier fall.

It’s a lot of work, but it’s not too hard. It’s weird to think that I’m learning 9 months’ worth of Algebra in 8 weeks. And I’m totally getting it. Architecture, too. I like being able to concentrate on two subjects at a time, instead of 7 different classes. I also like meeting new people from other high schools in the area and from other colleges as well. We’re treated like adults at SVCC, because most of the students are technically adults. There are no bells ringing, no teachers asking us where we’re going. We’re responsible for ourselves.

I like college.

Lilo:

Ev. His name is Ev. He said it’s short for Everett.

I met him at the wine tasting event. He’s four years younger than me, and he’s really nice. We both grew up in Hennessey Park, but somehow we never officially met before the wine tasting. I did graduate high school the year before he started ninth grade, and he went to St. Francis while I went to HP, and he private school kids and public school kids kept to their own kinds, so our social circles didn’t overlap. Until now.

This is new and different. It’s easy. I’m happy.

Grover:

Okay, so… summer school’s not that bad. The people are cool, the food’s pretty good, and the teachers don’t get mad when you say something funny. Science class is the best. It’s not like regular class, where you sit and listen and pretend to take notes. We have books and homework and quizzes and tests and grades (somehow I’ve been getting As and Bs), but we mainly work in teams and create projects with connected parts and moving pieces. I like making stuff with other people, especially with my new friends Santino, who’s going into seventh grade at Parker West, and Divya, who’s going in to seventh grade at St. Francis. I feel like I’m learning more now than I did all last year.

9th grade. June.

Tamarind:

So much has changed in a short amount of time. I took the SAT Biology Subject Test, which I feel confident about, since I took it a week after my Biology final at HP.

I also took a practice SAT and a practice ACT last weekend. My approximate scores were 1850 on the SAT and 27 on the ACT. Decent, primarily because of the math sections, but neither of those scores is good enough for most of the top-ranked schools on my list, especially not combined with my average-ranked GPA. Big Apple University, Southern Private Ivy, and DC University all have a 2100 SAT average.

My scores would be good enough for Midwest State University, and this school I just got interested in, Medium Private University in Florida. I met the Medium Private Admissions officer at the college fair in May, and she was really nice. Since her booth was in the back, I was practically the only one who talked with her. It didn’t help that her school was out of state, too. So many of the Admissions officers from states like Kansas, Louisiana, Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, anywhere outside of California sat alone for a long time at their brightly colored tables. Even the Arizona officers looked like they were waiting for lunch.

I have to do better. I want to keep my options open to everything, including scholarships. So, I’m going to study before I take more practice tests, and I’m going to increase my scores. I’ll ask if there’s a prep course I could take at SVCC. My filing job in the admissions office and my Algebra and Architecture classes don’t take up that much time, and I might be able to get an employee discount on additional courses, so I could swing it.

Lilo:

The dream board is working! I put a fruit smoothie on my board and I got a blender. I put a picture of my gym on the board and I started going to my gym again. Admittedly, those are small items, but I made them happen.

I don’t have a better career, more money, or a gentleman caller yet. But this weekend, my friends and I will be attending a wine tasting event. If I work the room right, I could knock all three of those off my list.

Grover:

Even though I passed all my classes (with a C average, but who’s counting?), Mom and Dad are making me go to summer school. At St. Francis. Since it’s Catholic school, will I have to wear a uniform? Not fair. It’s summer! This is the worst!

9th grade. May.

Tamarind:

The sophomores and juniors have a field trip to the biggest college fair in South Valley next week. I asked Miss Bliss if I could join them, even though I’m neither a sophomore nor a junior.

I told Miss Bliss that I’ve already made a list of my top 50 schools, and the fair’s only a couple miles away, and it’s not like one extra person would make a difference, and not all the 10^th and 11^th graders are going anyway. Shouldn’t HP encourage everyone to learn more about college, regardless of their chronological age?

It didn’t take as long to wear Miss Bliss down as I thought it would. She said fine.

“I’d rather have our school represented by a ninth grader who wants to be there than a tenth grader who doesn’t.”

I asked if Brimley could come along, too, which he doesn’t know about yet. Miss Bliss said if our parents wrote a note excusing us from class and signed the field trip permission slip, Brimley and I could go to the fair. My mother won’t have a problem with it, and Mr. and Mrs. Montague practically have Brimley’s lab coat and gavel picked out, so we’re as good as there.

Lilo:
My daughter is growing up fast. I was prepared to deal with dating and hormones and birth control at this stage. I did not expect Tamarind to act like a convict staging a prison break. She’s got three, actually two, years before she starts her applications, but every pore of Tamarind is screaming, “College now!”

I should be thankful one of my children wants to continue their education. The other is barely passing sixth grade.

Grover:

If my school had a field trip to a college fair, I’d be the first one on the bus. Anything to get out of class.

I have to do well on my finals. If I don’t, I might have to go to summer school, which sounds awful. Dealing with grumpy teachers while my friends play at camp? No way, man. After classes end in June, I’m not touching another book till August.

9th grade. April.

Tamarind:

So now I’m on the Math Team?

One of the members of Calculusaurus Rex got mono, so one of the alternates moved up, and Coach Taylor needed a new alternate and suddenly I’m wearing a denim blue polo shirt embroidered with a Spanish red dinosaur counting on an abacus.

Since it’s late in the school year, Coach said I probably won’t be in any of the matches, but my role is very important. I need to be prepared to step in at any time, even though there are two other alternates ahead of me. I met all the other Calculusauruses, and even though they’re older than I am, they’re super nice. And some of the tenth graders on the team are doing the South Valley Community College pre-college program this summer, so I’ll know people there.

Speaking of which, I went through a few phone interviews and one in person interview at SVCC for the jobs I applied to. I was waiting so long to hear back. I was worried that no one thought any of the skills I listed on my paltry resume would make me good enough to work for them. But someone finally offered me a job! I got hired as the Assistant File Clerk in the SVCC Admissions Office. I’m going to work really hard and be the best Assistant File Clerk they’ve ever had. I’ll only be working about three days a week total, but I’m excited.

Lilo:
How many organizations is Tamarind participating in now? Booster Club, Cinema Club, Yoga Club. Now the Math Team. Plus Food for the Spirit on the weekends. It’s too much.

Sometimes I wish my daughter would act like a normal teenager, hanging out aimlessly on the weekends.

And then I wonder why Grover won’t join any club that would have him as a member.

Never satisfied.

Grover:

Studying less does not work for me either. My grades haven’t gone down, so that’s good. But they haven’t gone up either, which was the point of my Orange book experiment.

I’m worried.

I looked at the Hennessey Park Middle School calendar, and I only have a few weeks before sixth grade ends. I need to figure this out.

9th grade. March.

Tamarind:

After many phone calls and discussions and bus maps, I’ve decided what I’m doing this summer. Well, somewhat. I’m taking two classes through the pre-college program at South Valley Community College: Algebra II (which will keep me on track to take my AP Calculus classes later) and Intro to Architecture (which will help me with my career). SVCC also has on-campus summer jobs, so I applied for a bunch of them. Now I wait and see if anyone wants to hire me.

I applied for some other jobs, too, based on their distance from Mom’s house or a convenient bus stop. So basically anything inside the boundaries of Hennessey Park. Our public transportation system is excellent as long as you want to travel within our small town. Mom and Dad said they would drive me wherever I needed to go, but they have their own real jobs during the week, so whatever I did would have to be on the weekend or weeknights. That might not work for whatever company decides to make me their employee. So I told my parents I’d come up with a plan and tell them what it was, so that I would not inconvenience them. I can take care of myself.

Lilo:
One of my friends told me about this book called Meeting Your Half-Orange, your media-naranja en español. It’s supposed to be like The Secret, except believable, and mostly about finding what you want in your life through the power of active attraction. You identify what you want, write it down, and tell other people about it. Then what you want finds you.

You can also make a dream board. I put pictures of the stuff I want in my life on my board. Better career. More money. Happy children. Gentleman caller.

Let’s see if it works.

Grover:

While Mom and Tamarind were out doing something boring last week, I read part of Mom’s Orange book. I’m not looking for a life partner, but I would like to do better in school.

One thing the book said I should try was doing less to achieve more. I can do less. A lot less. I can’t really do more. I do my homework and I study and I ask questions and I get Cs.

So, this month, for all my classes, I’ll do just enough to get by. Better grades, here I come. 

9th grade. February.

Tamarind:

I have to do something with my summer. When I met with Miss Bliss this week, she suggested I find an internship that matches my career goals.

Hmm.

After what felt like an hour of staring at each other silently, she asked me what my career goals were. I didn’t feel “None” was an appropriate answer, so I blurted out, “Architect?!” Miss Bliss asked what my experience was in the field, and I couldn’t bring myself to say, “Legos”, so “None” sufficed.

Miss Bliss handed me a folder that she “usually reserved for sophomores and juniors” filled with recommended summer opportunities for teenagers. She also reminded me that I had planned to take classes at South Valley Community College in June so that I could take all the AP courses I wanted to during the school year.

Oops. I had forgotten about that.

“Have you enrolled? How do you plan to fit a job or an internship into your schedule? And, presuming you won’t age two years and acquire your driver’s license in the next four months, what’s your transportation strategy?”

Uhhh…

Miss Bliss told me to look through the folder, which included contact information for the pre-college program at SVCC, and discuss the options with my parents. Then she’d meet with me again in two weeks and we’d work on my “game plan for success.”

I have so much to think about.

Lilo:

When my daughter told me she was looking for a summer job, I couldn’t help but wonder about my own career path. 

How did it meander so far off track?

Years ago, when one of my previous bosses was away on family leave, I took on many of her director responsibilities, even though I was a manager. Then after a layoff, I moved to another company, where I took a step down to an analyst position, but I kept my previous manager pay rate. Then when I decided to switch industries to work in sustainable energy, I took a lateral move to another analyst position. So now, almost two decades into my career, I have the years of experience of an SVP, the quality of experience of a director, the salary of a junior manager, and the title of someone who was just promoted from their entry-level position.

I need to change this situation.

Grover:

I got my third quarter grades. Dad doesn’t understand why I’m doing bad. Not bad. Just not good. Mom thinks it’s the school. Dad thinks it the divorce. Tamarind thinks I’m better at some classes than others, so I should focus on those. That’s not really an option in sixth grade. We don’t get to choose our classes.

I don’t know why I’m not smart this year. Is it because I’m eleven and I got smellier and hairier instead of intelligenter? More smart?

9th grade. January.

Tamarind:
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

That was the question I asked Zinnia and Brimley on New Year’s Eve. The three of us, and Grover, were spending the holiday together, just like we had since forever. Last year we were at Brimley’s house. It was the first time we didn’t have to be watched by a baby-sitter, as long as we took care of Grover, too.

This time, all four of us piled into Dad’s living room with our sleeping bags and snack bowls and watched balls drop on a bunch of different networks. Grover fell asleep early, as usual. He has never made it to midnight.

As fireworks exploded in Sydney, Hong Kong, Dubai, and Moscow for the fifth time on the screen, Zinnia told us what we already knew: she wanted to be a professional dancer.  “With a contemporary jazz company or in a stage show for an international DJ.”

Brimley responded with, “I want to be a doctor, maybe? But if I have to do more biology, I don’t know.” Brimley’s father is a doctor and his mother is a lawyer. Specifically, a cardiologist and a corporate attorney for mergers and acquisitions. Big words. They have plans for their son.

Then my friends expected me to provide my own answer. “I haven’t decided. I could be an architect. I liked making those Lego buildings. At least you have a hook, Zinnia: dancer. And Brimley, you have ‘doctor, maybe.’ I have, ‘kinda good at some things,’ which is unacceptable.”

“Why are you freaking?” Zinnia stuffed her face with kettle corn.

“I don’t stand out! I have to pick something.” 

“Because of the book?” Brimley asked.

Zinnia turned to him. “What book?”

I plucked my copy of How to Get into College from the bedroom and handed it to Zinnia, who was still poring through it when I fell asleep.

I woke up that morning to find Zinnia hovering over my face. Apparently, she had spent the rest of the night reading every page, because once my eyes had opened, she started flapping the paperback in the air, shouting, “How is anyone supposed to do this?”

Lilo:
Disappointing.

I wanted to enjoy the New Year’s Eve singles’ party. I really did. My friends looked like they were having a good time at the event. But it felt like everyone else was either trying too hard or not trying at all.

I should have maintained my low expectations for the night. For some reason, I had high hopes for a night-time affair with a group of drunken strangers on an overhyped holiday. I need to reevaluate my goals.

Here’s my new New Year’s resolution: stop pressuring myself to find someone new. From now on, I’m only going to attend singles’ events involving activities I’m actually interested in. No more random parties with hundreds of people I have nothing in common with, except our mutual lack of life-partners.

The next gathering for the unattached of Hennessey Park and its surrounding areas will be a cooking class. I like food and cooking it. Sign me up.

Grover:

I wanted to stay up till midnight. I really did. But I was so bored. Not by the TV celebrations. Those were fun. I like watching the people crammed like sardines in Times Square.

The boredom came from Tamarind and Brimley and Zinnia and their future talk. It put me to sleep. I usually like hanging out with my sister and her friends because they’re cool people. They don’t treat me like a little kid, like Zinnia and Brimley’s older sisters and brothers do.

I thought this would be the one night when Tamarind’s obsession with college would be contained. Instead, the infection has spread to Zinnia. Brimley will probably be next.

Why is Tamarind so worried about getting into a school that she’ll be going to three years from now? Like they won’t let her in? She’s great at everything. I’m the one who’ll be going to Clown College, if they’ll accept me. I can bring my own red nose.

9th grade. December.

Tamarind:
Thank goodness finals are over. One less thing to think about over winter break.

The plan is to spend the first part of the week with Mom through Christmas Eve, and then go to Dad’s apartment for Christmas and spent the rest of our vacation with him until school starts in January.

I didn’t come up with this plan. Mom and Dad did. I wanted to have a simple Christmas, but yet again, I’ll be moving from house to house. I thought about saying something, but I didn’t want to upset either of my parents; they’re more fragile than they look. So I stuffed my feelings, and I went along with their decision. As usual.

Though, I do like having two Christmas trees.

Lilo:
It’s Christmas Day, and Tamarind and Grover are gone. I took them to Jencks’s apartment this morning, and then I drove to Mommy and Poppy’s house to spend the rest of the holiday there. But I miss my children. After much internal deliberation, I decided to open up to my parents and tell them how I was feeling. They in turn told me about their first holidays without all of their children at home, when we’d moved away for school or for work or for relationships. I realized that this is a preview of letting go once Tamarind and Grover go to college and won’t live at home at all.

At least Mommy and Poppy had each other in their empty nest. I’ll just have me. Maybe it’s time to get out there and see what’s shaking. My friends keep telling me about singles’ mixers, even though half of them are married and living vicariously through my unattached life.

Fine. The next one’s scheduled for New Year’s Eve. No pressure.

Grover:

Dad says I have the Boxing Day Blues. I told him that with two homes and no chimney, there’s no point in believing in Santa anymore.

I thought that when your parents split up, you get twice the presents, because they are each trying to buy your love and make up for traumatizing you for life. Tamarind told me our parents were downsizing and I should make do with the generous gifts I received and some children don’t get any gifts and don’t have any parents. I told Tamarind I expected Mom and Dad to give us more stuff to make us like them more. How else can we decide who our favorite parent is?

Tamarind gave me a dirty look and told Dad she was going to hang out with Brimley and Zinnia at the Monkey Bar.

And why wasn’t I invited?

9th grade. November.

Tamarind:
Thanksgiving. The first real holiday we’ve had to split between parents. Wednesday and Thursday with Mom, and Friday, Saturday, and Sunday with Dad. This house rotation is not fun. I wish Mom and Dad could move from home to home instead of me and Grover. That’s the only bad part, though: living in two places, making sure I have duplicates of everything. Sharing a room with Grover at Dad’s apartment isn’t terrible, since it’s only on the weekend, and Grover usually falls asleep on the couch at night playing video games.

The good part is that my parents look happier than they have been in a while. At least Mom does. Dad looks a little lost. He’s lived in this apartment for over four months, but he’s not always sure where things are, or where they should be. Like where to put the cereal or the bread or the peanut butter. He asked me if they went in the cabinet or in the refrigerator. I told him Mom puts most stuff in the refrigerator so it doesn’t go bad as quickly, but technically those items could go in the cabinet. Then Dad shoved everything in the grocery bag in the refrigerator, even the canned peas, and he wandered into the living room to watch a sports documentary.

Thank goodness our grandparents came over on Friday. They brought food. At least it looked like food…

Lilo:
Last weekend, while my kids were away, I watched a marathon of Couponing to the Max. In an attempt to save money, I later decided to apply what I learned to the upcoming Black Friday. What was I thinking?  It’s like I watched a day’s worth of track and field and decided to compete in the Olympics.

On Thursday night, after Jencks picked up Tamarind and Grover, I reviewed my strategy for the next day, a meticulous itinerary designed to simultaneously stock up on bargains and take my mind off of not having my children with me for the rest of the holiday weekend. I asked my mother if she’d like to join my excursion. She vehemently declined, but my father eagerly invited himself along to function as backup and defense. I jokingly suggested he wear his old high school football jersey. Why was I surprised when number 86 showed up at my door at dawn, ready to feel the adrenaline rush?

                                                                                                 

I had big goals for Black Friday, involving six different department stores and over 100 coupons, including combinations of offers that allowed me to either acquire items for free or get paid to take them out of the store. I also knew that if I was going to do this, I couldn’t become a hoarder, primarily because I didn’t have enough space in the townhouse to create a stockpile like the couponers on the show.

Poppy and I started at the grocery store around the corner. That is also, coincidentally, where we stopped. I didn’t realize how exhausting accumulating all those items could be, especially when fellow customers were elbowing us out of the way. Couponing cuts five hours worth of bargain hunting into a 22-minute episode. I lasted about an hour and half before I wanted to collapse. Poppy put up a good fight, but he had no objections to returning home early.

After we organized two shopping carts worth of boxes and bags and cans and bottles into my kitchen cabinets, I took a well-deserved mid-morning nap on the couch while Poppy attempted to take in a smattering of college bowls on the TV. When I woke up around noon, the LACal Coyotes were leading the NorCal Sea Lions 28 to 6 (Go Coyotes!). Poppy was knocked out on the loveseat, imitating a buzz saw.

I went to the kitchen, baked one of the 10 frozen pizzas I’d purchased for 50 cents each, and ate a steaming slice over my sink full of dirty dishes.

It was a good day.

Grover:

Two Thanksgivings means two days of eating. That’s what I had planned, anyway. Thursday was turkey, ham, yams, lumpia, green beans, pumpkin pie, enchiladas, cornbread, roast pork, and adobo with mostly Mom’s side of the family. I had never called them that before because we used to have one big party at Grammy and Grampy’s house since it held the most people in the yard and everybody was everybody’s family. Now that Mom and Dad aren’t together anymore, not as many people showed up, and the ones who did looked uncomfortable around Mom.

Friday was not what I had expected either, but for a different reason. Our grandparents on Dad’s side brought what I thought was another full Thanksgiving meal, and I was ready to chow down. We opened the containers, and all the food looked normal and smelled normal. But when I ate it off my plate, it tasted blech. Abuelito said something about cleansing his colon, so all the dishes he and Abuelita cooked were either low-cholesterol, low-sugar, low-fat, vegan, or raw. Raw? How do you cook raw food? They didn’t bring any sushi or sashimi, so what were they feeding us?

When I asked our grandparents why they couldn’t have made the new stuff and some of the old stuff, too, Tamarind told me to stop complaining because this was a healthier way to eat. I noticed she didn’t finish her kale and quinoa casserole or her gluten-free apple pie. Neither did Dad. I bet all the leftovers will still be in the refrigerator when we visit next weekend.

9th grade. October.

Tamarind:

We’re at Dad’s apartment for the weekend. Homecoming Weekend. I am pooped. Denim & Red has been working overtime to organize the events. Everything Spanish red and Denim blue, with Velma the Raptor portrayed on every wall of the school. Students singing The Raptor Beat in the halls. It’s a spirited time.

I’ve been reading more books about college. They all talk about having a hook to get in, like being nationally ranked in an extracurricular activity, which I still haven’t achieved in the past two months. You can also be a legacy at a school, or have an underrepresented ethnic background, both of which increase your chances. I know Mom went to LACal Public a few miles away in the center of Los Angeles, and Dad went to NorCal Public outside of San Francisco. So I have two legacy schools, although, right now, they are both Reaches for me. That’s a new word I learned: Reach. It’s like a school is on the top shelf and I’m not tall enough to grab it, so I have to stand on my tippy-toes to Reach it. Then there are Matches, which means my grades match the grades of the previously admitted class. And Likelies, which are school that are Likely to accept me.

To find out if my ethnic background is underrepresented, I have to find out what it is first. Since everyone in Hennessey Park is some kind of brown, it’s never come up before. So I asked my parents about their ancestry. Mom said her great-grandparents moved from the Philippines to Hawaii, and her grandparents moved from Hawaii to Hennessey Park. Dad said his family has lived in Southern California since it was Mexico.

I asked each of them if anyone in the family was Native American. That’s one of the hot ethnicities for admissions and scholarships. Mom didn’t think so, but she said I could check the Pacific Islander box if it came up. Dad didn't care to do the research to find out, I mentioned the scholarships. Then he immediately set up an account on the Find Me My Ancestors website, and he’s been searching all weekend hoping to strike gold.

Lilo:

Townhouse to myself for the weekend!

I’m still getting used to having no one around for two full days every week. I haven’t lived on my own for over a decade. I had a roommate all through college, and Jencks and I officially met right after graduation, ironically in the town we had both grown up in. We started dating, and then we moved into together after we got engaged. By my calculations, this means I have only spent one year of my life as an independent adult. That’s unsettling.

Becoming the sole head of household has been a shift. When Jencks and I were married, our combined income made us comfortably well off. An economics analyst for a sustainable energy company and a civil engineer for the Town of Hennessey Park could provide a more than satisfactory lifestyle for their family. Separately, though, the cushion is no longer there. Admittedly, Jencks and I each earn incomes above the national average for a family of four. But now we’re each housing a family of three in Southern California, one of the most expensive areas to live in the United States. Our children attend public schools, and we’ve never taken lavish vacations or driven luxury automobiles. Though, if anything were to happen to either of us, or to Tamarind or Grover, or to our retired parents…our plans have changed. And those plans are detailed. Our lawyers made sure of that.

Somehow, Jencks and I have more productive communications about our future now than we did when we married. Though, I do like not having to check in with somebody before I exit my domicile.

Off to Pilates!

Grover:

I got my first quarter grades. I did not do well.

I thought I could hide them since we were at Dad’s for the weekend, but I forgot that Dad was my PTA parent. So he knew report cards would come out this week. I was coasting along Friday and Saturday because Dad was wrapped up in some ancestry project. Then Sunday he announced to me and Tamarind that we weren’t Mexican like he’d thought. We were Chinese and Spanish. Spain Spanish. So we weren’t getting any of that sweet Native American money.

I had no idea what he was talking about.

Then he told us we had to get good grades to get into college. Duh, Dad. And he wanted to check our report cards.

Darn it.

Parents who pay attention are the worst. He was mad about the Cs. I used to get As and Bs in fifth grade, and every year before that. I pointed out the A in P.E. Dad did not respond to that at first. Then he asked me which sports teams I would be joining this year. Darn it. I told him I’d try out for basketball. Try out. That way, if I didn’t get selected, it’s okay, because I tried. Good thinking, Grover.

9th grade. September.

Tamarind:

I handed Miss Bliss a copy of my final schedule: English 9, Spanish 2 (which I tested into), California in the Contemporary World (the required History class for ninth graders), Geometry, Biology (I wasn’t allowed to take AP, which is fine, because science is not my favorite), Digital Storytelling (loving it!), and the required P.E. class called Fitness and Wellness. She pulled up my transcript from Hennessey Park Middle School and noticed my math classes. Since I do better in math than my other classes, Miss Bliss suggested I focus on those as my AP classes. But since I was in Geometry this year, I would need to take Algebra II in tenth grade, Precalculus in eleventh, and that would mean I could take AP Calculus AB my senior year. I couldn’t take AP Calculus BC. Miss Bliss suggested that if I wanted to get to Calculus BC that badly, I could take one or more of my high school math classes as a summer course at a community college. I wrote down in my notebook to look at the South Valley Community College website.

Miss Bliss said that my initial plan to take all APs for the rest of high school was a bit ambitious. I did not want to hear that, because I read online that girls are often discouraged from going after what they want because it’s not ladylike. She explained that if I took only AP classes for the next three years, I wouldn’t have time to build houses for homeless orphans, teach sign language to the elderly, or compete in the International Science Olympics. Whatever activities I chose, I would need time to master them outside of my regular school work. Also, she told me that no student at HP had ever taken all APs, boy or girl, and the ones that tried all burned out before senior year.

Then Miss Bliss asked me about my activities. After visiting each table at the Club Fair during the first week of school, I joined Yoga Club, Cinema Club, and the student division of the Denim & Red Booster Club. I told her I also tried to run for student council homeroom representative, but I lost, so I’ve been reading about politicians who lost their first elections and then went on to rule the world. I also volunteer with Food for the Spirit every other Saturday morning; it’s a service organization with my family’s church, The House of the Universal Spirit, where we collect and distribute canned food for those in need.

“I’m exhausted just listening to you,” Miss Bliss said. “When do you have time for all of this? When do you hang out with your friends?”

I told her that my friends Zinnia and Brimley went to the same church as me, so sometimes they volunteered too. I didn’t tell Miss Bliss this, but Cabot used to work there as well; she was repeatedly named Volunteer of the Year. Though, once she discovered how good she was at soccer, she stopped spending time with us. Ever since we started HP, Cabot has been hanging out with the jocks. HP’s biggest sport is soccer, and her brother Saxby, who’s in 12th grade, is the captain of the Varsity Boys’ team. With Cabot at HP, and she’s probably going to be the captain of the JV Girls’ team, and then later the Varsity Girls’ team (which brings home the most trophies of any organization at HP) the Mendozas will have a dynasty with Saxby as King and Cabot as Princess.

And with me as a Booster, I have the privilege of cheering them on. Go Raptors.

Lilo:

Does every ninth grader have this much work to do every night? I need to check with the Montagues to see if Brimley has the same amount of homework. Oh yeah, I could ask at the PTA meeting this week.

Grover:

I must have gotten every teacher Tamarind ever had at Hennessey Park Middle School, because they’re all like, “You’re Tamarind’s brother? You must be so good at blah blah blah. I’m going to keep my eye on you.”

No!

Take your eyes off me. I’m not my sister.

9th grade. August.

Tamarind:

How am I supposed to become a concert cellist, a nationally ranked athlete, and a Nobel Prize winner by my senior year of high school? According to the book we got at Hennessey Park High School new student orientation yesterday, How to Get into College (by Really Trying), I need to be all of those things at the same time, while getting all As in the hard classes, and getting a near-perfect score on my SATs. Yes, SATs plural. I thought there was only one, but no, there is one for any high school subject I could think of, and I have to take at least three and do well on them to get into a good college.

This afternoon, after I took the placement tests, which no one told me was happening, not even Cabot, even though we've been friends forever, I went to see Miss Bliss, our school’s college counselor, about How to Get into College. When I sat down in her office, the first thing she said to me was, “You read the whole book, Tamarind?”

Um, yeah. You’re the one who gave all of us 150 ninth graders and 50 new transfer students the book yesterday, and we didn't have any homework, so why wouldn't I have read it?

She said that students usually don’t come see her until junior or senior year, and most often it’s because their parents told them to, or they come along.

Then why would you give us the book now?

Miss Bliss said that the principal told her that the parents of last year’s senior class said that they wished they’d had more information about the college process earlier. So the principal declared that every student at HP would a copy of How to Get into College, which should solve that problem.

When Miss Bliss stopped talking, I handed her a copy of my current class schedule and another piece of paper with the classes I actually wanted to take over the next four years, including APs. I’d start with AP Microeconomics this year, then in 10^th grade I’d take AP Chemistry, AP Computer Science, AP U.S. History, AP Macroeconomics and AP Statistics. In 11^th grade—

Then she stopped me and said there were no AP classes for ninth graders at HP. Exceptions were rarely granted.

What? But the book—did she not read what the book said?

Miss Bliss said I should have fun during ninth grade, explore new things, find out what I like to do.

I like school and getting good grades. Good, not great. At Hennessey Park Middle School, my name was synonymous with B+. A for effort, but B+ for final grade.

Miss Bliss said my schedule might change anyway, depending on the results of the placement exams I had taken in math, English, and Spanish, the foreign language that I decide to keep learning instead of switching to Chinese or Japanese. She asked me to come back to her office in two weeks, once I had started my classes, and we’d “map out a logical progression for your high school career.” I told her that would make me feel better. She even typed it into her calendar on her computer, so I typed the meeting into the calendar on my phone. Very official.

I told Brimley he should meet with Miss Bliss, too, since she’s really nice. Brimley didn't understand why he should talk to a college counselor when he’s just started high school. When we met up with Zinnia at the Monkey Bar to get smoothies, she agreed with me, although she didn’t know who her college counselor was. It’s weird that she’s going to Moreno for high school, only because Zinnia, Brimley, and I have been in the same class almost every year, and we've been best friends since kindergarten. But it does make sense for Zinnia to go to a school for the arts since she is the most amazing dancer I have ever known. Zinnia’s mother says she could pirouette before she could walk. I wonder how many AP classes the Moreno kids are allowed to take…

Lilo:

Thank goodness I had the day off yesterday. Not that I got anything done that I wanted to do. The move exhausted me. I had planned to spend yesterday organizing our new townhouse, which I’m still surprised was cheaper than our old house. A slight downgrade in a Southern California neighborhood makes a world of difference, surprisingly for the better, in this case. Same school district, since Hennessey Park is so small, but new address, new people to meet, new parking regulations to learn. The townhouse came with a tandem parking space in the underground garage, but we’re a one-car family now. That is, until Tamarind gets her license and possibly inherits a grandparent’s pre-owned sedan.

I barely got both kids out of the house. You’d think if the schools were requiring them to attend orientations that they would provide school buses, but no. Luckily I had arranged for Tamarind and Grover to carpool with the Montagues, which unfortunately did not stop Tamarind from grouching at me at the crack of dawn because I was still in my pajamas while she was fully dressed and ready to go. Conversely, Grover looked at me like I had two heads when I told him to shut off his video game and eat something before he had to leave.

I love my children, and I’m glad they are living with me during the week, but sometimes they drive me up a wall. You can call me a bad mother if you like, free speech and all, but I don’t think I’ll miss them this weekend when they are with Jencks. Let their father deal with their pubescent mood swings for two days. Maybe then I’ll have the time to figure out which box I packed my clean underwear in.

Grover:

I don’t see why I had to go to school yesterday. Real school doesn't start till next week. I don’t understand why Mom was busting my chops. I put on my clothes before Mr. Montague showed up and ate my breakfast in the car. No problem.

All we did at orientation was get our books, P.E. uniforms, and meet new people. I could've met them next week. I could've taken a tour of the school next week. I didn't even need a tour. I've been there before. I was there two months ago for Tamarind’s graduation. It still looks like the same Hennessey Park Middle School to me. Do our teachers think all sixth graders are too dumb to recognize the school that their older sisters went to for three years?

It wasn't all bad. We got pizza for lunch. And during the assembly, the vice-principal farted. If school was only pizza and farts, I’d be set for life.

First!

Tamarind is going to college. And, with all the work they put in to help her, Tam's mother Lilo, and Tam's little brother Grover, feel like they're going to college, too! :)