Robin Wasserman - Pride

In 500 words or less, describe something about yourself that makes you proud.

I never knew I was afraid of heights until I was standing at the top of the mountain, looking down. The hill looked like a ninety-degree angle-and it looked bottomless. I didn’t want to admit it at the time, but I was scared. I was terrified. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I just knew I had to do it. No matter what, I had to try. So I pushed myself to the very edge, I counted to three, and then I tipped my skis forward-and I was flying!

I’m proud of myself for making it down the hill in one piece, but that’s not what this essay’s about. I’m proud of myself for going back up to the top and trying all over again, even though I was just as terrified the second time around, and the third.

But that’s not what this essay is about either.

Because what I’m most proud of is the fact that I went down at all, that first time. I looked over the edge, and I was scared out of my mind. But I did it, anyway.

I’m a quiet girl, and I live a quiet life. Not boring, not dull-just quiet. “She’s a nice girl”-people say that a lot. Also: “She always does the right thing.” “Always does what she’s supposed to do.” And I’m proud of that, too.

But that’s not me, or at least, not all of me. Because somewhere in me, there’s someone else, someone loud and exciting. Someone looking for mountains to ski down, for all kinds of new experiences, no matter how scary they may seem at first. Every once in a while, something inside of me wants to take a chance, and do something that no one would ever expect. Trying new things, facing your fears, taking a risk-it’s not always easy. I’m still finding my way. But I know that college will be the perfect place to learn. The way I see it, going to college is like the ultimate ski slope. It’s terrifying, the great unknown-but you know that if you can just make that first jump off the edge, you’ll have an amazing ride.

I’m ready to jump.

Kane looked up from the page, and Beth watched him expectantly, her heart in her throat.

“So? What do you think?” she asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer. After days of being totally blocked, she’d been suddenly inspired and had stayed up all night writing. Kane was the first person to read it. And if he thought it was stupid-and, reading it over for the hundredth time, it sounded stupider and stupider to her-she didn’t know what she would do.

“You’re a genius!” he exclaimed, taking her in his arms. “It’s brilliant.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that? If it’s terrible, I’d rather know now and-”

“It’s amazing,” he insisted, cutting her off with a kiss. “You’re amazing. This is exactly the kind of corny bullshit colleges love to hear. You’re going to have them eating out of your hand.”

“It’s not-” Beth stopped, unsure how to explain that she’d meant every word, cheesy as it may seem. But she didn’t want Kane to think less of her, and wipe that admiring look off his face. And it didn’t really matter if he’d totally misunderstood her intentions, if he believed the essay or not. He liked it-that was the important thing.

Right?

Kaia read over the invitation a few times and then clicked send, fully satisfied. Harper had supplied her with a list of e-mail addresses and assured her she’d put the word out that all the right people should show up-and all the wrong ones should stay home.

It had been easier than she’d expected to snag her father’s permission for the party (sneaking out of the house was one thing-sneaking one hundred people in might have proven somewhat more difficult, so she’d gone the more official route). Of course, she’d billed it as an elegant cocktail hour, something to keep her and her “friends” out of trouble on the big night. But after threatening him with her other suggestion-spending some quality time together, just the two of them-she suspected he would have agreed to anything. Keith Sellers cancel his annual New Year’s trip to Cabo to spend the night doing the “Father Knows Best” thing with his delinquent daughter? It was about as likely as her mother popping in for a surprise visit.

No, Kaia was on her own-as usual-and, courtesy of Daddy, had a nice chunk of change with which to make this party worthy of Harper’s hype. The servants were holding on to the cash, of course. Kaia’s father had figured that with his credit card in hand, she’d be on the next plane back to New York. (And he was right.) Besides, better that the help hold on to the purchasing power, since they’d be the ones doing all the purchasing.

She’d hit only one snag so far in the planning process: the list of invitees. True, Harper had supplied most of the names, but there was a wild card: Reed Sawyer. Kaia had toyed with the idea of inviting him-after all, it would be nice to have someone to kiss at midnight. Someone dark, mysterious, and handsome, whose lips lit her on fire…

And that’s where she’d cut herself off. Reed was a toy, a plaything, something to use and discard once she’d gotten what she needed out of him. Seeing him again, thinking about him any longer, would just tempt her to forget all that-and if she wanted to keep Powell around, she couldn’t afford to forget.

Reed didn’t know it yet, but his new year was going to be Kaia-free.

Lucky thing, Kane supposed, that Adam’s mother had answered the phone. Adam probably would have hung up before Kane could get a word out. Mrs. Morgan-like most women-was far more accommodating.

Maybe he’d been inspired by Beth’s corny essay. Or maybe, much as he hated to admit it, by Beth herself, those clear, shining eyes, trusting, open, always ready for a challenge. If she was willing to try something new, to take a chance-and Kane was hoping that he’d correctly interpreted her words to mean she was finally willing to take a real chance on him-so could he.

So after leaving her house, he’d called Adam-and since Adam’s mother had pulled a Benedict Arnold, Kane now knew exactly where to find him.

It was the first place he would have looked.

It was a cool day, but Adam was playing shirtless, sweaty enough that Kane knew he’d been on the court all day.

“Practice makes perfect, eh?” he called out as he approached, wincing at the sarcastic note in his voice. He could never stop himself from goading Adam on-it was so easy and, it was, after all, the only way he knew how to speak. But even he could tell it wasn’t helping. He’d joined the basketball team in hopes of reminding Adam of the good times they’d had together, thinking that the easy jock banter would help them gloss over the past. But Adam seemed to get angrier with every passing day-and, much as Kane hated to admit it to himself, the whole situation made him uncomfortable. He still didn’t think he had any reason to feel guilty, but he’d feel much better if he could persuade Adam to feel the same way.

“What are you doing here?” Adam asked gruffly, breaking into a run, dribbling the ball downcourt, away from Kane.

“Thought I might give you some help with your little problem,” Kane called, running after him.

“What problem?” Adam bristled, shoving Kane away.

“Whatever you want to call it-‘performance anxiety’?”

Adam suddenly tripped over the ball and fell flat on his ass. Kane tried hard-if not hard enough-not to laugh. Performance anxiety indeed.

“Who told you about that?” Adam asked hotly, standing up, grabbing the ball, and walking it back up court.

Kane slipped it out of his hands and began dribbling away.

“Everyone knows,” he pointed out. “Or have you already forgotten that the whole town saw you choke the other night?”