For her senior project, Dallas Delaney starts Girls Shit Too, a series of vlogs inspiring girls to ditch the constraints of femininity and adopt the perks of masculinity. That's when another girl in her English class, Adree, uses her own online plat...
When I woke up the next morning, I found Josh in the kitchen, eating cereal, with some pretty serious bedhead, like me. His hair was the same shade of dark brown that mine was, and he'd let it grow to a medium length like so many of his Cali friends, long enough so that his natural waves took form. The same waves that I had, only mine were out of control right now, while his seemed, for lack of a better word, stylish. He could actually #wakeuplikethis, unlike so many of the girls at my school who falsely claimed to have that ability.
Mom was probably out with baby Jace, and Roy was at work, so finally Josh and I were alone together.
"Get anyone pregnant last night?" I asked him.
"Nope."
"Dang."
"Why dang?"
"I just feel like maybe Mom will get off me about having kids if you have some."
"She's still on you about that?"
"Yep."
He laughed. "Well, next year you'll be out of here and you won't have to worry about it as much anymore."
"Maybe."
He narrowed his eyes at me. "Don't tell me you're planning on staying here."
"Going to CSCC wouldn't be so bad. At least I would save them money. Unlike you; your university is costing them a fortune!" Crystal Shore Community College was the local community college, and if I decided to go there, I really would save my parents a fortune, because they insisted on us taking out those Parent Plus loans instead of the loans that we would have to pay off ourselves. I'd seen the bills they'd already started paying towards Josh's loan, and I didn't know how they thought they could float another one for me, especially since they would probably need to take out yet another loan for Jace in eighteen years.
Scoffing, Josh said, "Parents are supposed to help pay for college," which was something our parents believed. "Besides, I wanted freedom, and growth. You can't grow if you never have to adapt to something new. And don't you see all those articles and memes about what happens to the people who never leave their small hometown? They stay racist or they end up being part of some online pyramid scheme. You should definitely get out of here."
"Well, maybe I'll be at CSU Sacramento with you next year. With my major undeclared and my future uncertain, I can waste their money while I decide so I can adapt and grow. Then they'll be in debt until Jace is like forty."
"At least I made a decision about my future. You've only had like eighteen years to do it...what's the delay? Can't you just pick a major already?"
I rolled my eyes in response, though secretly I was pretty angry at myself for my indecisiveness.
"And don't you have a good shot at a scholarship?" he continued. "You get way better grades than I did."
I shrugged and took my cereal bowl into the living room so I could stalk Valerie on Snapchat and Instagram instead of talking to Josh about college, which was depressing me.
I heard him rinsing his cereal bowl and tossing it in the sink, and before he went out the front door, he said to me, "You gotta think about yourself. Sometimes being selfish is the answer." Then he left, stylish bedhead and all. I wished I could rock my bedhead without needing a hat like he could.
For the next hour, I spent my alone time thinking about myself instead of thinking about Valerie. I was sure I'd get accepted to one of the northern campuses of California State University, far away from here, even though I had picked "undecided" for my major, against my counselor's suggestions. My grades were pretty good; I always made the honor roll. Still, I'd applied for four scholarships, and had so far received three denials. I was a good student, but it seemed like there was always someone better. And rejection had a bad taste and a lasting aftertaste.
The last scholarship I was planning to apply for—the one that could be my savior—was the Emily Hearst Scholarship, funded by the grandparents of Emily, who had been a senior at CSHS seven years ago. One day that year, a blood clot dislodged and blocked blood flow to her brain. Apparently, her morning started with a headache, which turned into nonstop puking, which turned into a trip to the hospital she never came home from. There was a memorial fountain in the front lawn of the school commemorating her as a superb and intelligent student who wanted to better the world, as she'd been all about social justice and environmentalism.
The scholarship was awarded to one senior girl at CSHS annually, and it wasn't granted to the girl of choice until right around graduation, because the grandparents wanted to make sure they were giving it to the right candidate. The application consisted of candidates' projected GPAs, a resume detailing relevant jobs and volunteer work, a letter of recommendation, and one-page essay about "How I Plan to Change the World." My counselor told me they wanted to find someone who reminded them of Emily, someone with her compassion and drive.
The scholarship application wasn't due until May 15, but I'd tried to start a first Draft:
____________________
How I Plan to Change the World
By Dallas Delaney
I plan to change the world by... shit. shit. shit.
____________________
It needed work, but I planned to get back to it. I planned to win that scholarship. I didn't want to cost Mom and Roy more money than they were already spending. I didn't want to rack up too much debt for any of us. That "D" word was such a looming threat, a monster that was foretold to follow college students around like the grim reaper.
And I did want to leave. I didn't want to stay racist or end up as part of some online pyramid scheme or live with my pestering mom forever.
That's why I just had to get that scholarship. I didn't just want it for the money—I wanted it because I felt like I deserved it. I tried hard. I cared about the world. I planned to change it, to make it better.
And Ms. Brooks had given me the perfect opportunity: she'd given me a chance to actually effect change in the world through online activism. I could write about my project in that scholarship essay.
But each time I brainstormed, I couldn't think of anything that felt right. I wanted to do something that could actually create change in the real world. It needed to be in the realm of possible. It needed to be unique and interesting and creative. Most importantly, it needed to be something that I was passionate about. If I could put my heart into it, then it would shine. My years of failures and successes in English class had proven this to me: if I wasn't passionate about my topic, then my final product would be B- material at best.
Maybe I was over-reaching, because I couldn't find that "right" topic. Maybe my standards were just too high, like Benny and Alex said they were for the imaginary girlfriend I hoped to acquire. "She doesn't exist," they would say. Valerie certainly didn't fit the qualifications; she didn't have a love for metal or joke constantly or enjoy trail riding, and she wore bright colors regularly and dissed on people for consuming too much sugar.
Holding on to the hope that my topic would come to me in a moment of serendipity, I kept the project in the back of my mind, letting Christmas Break fly by. School was back in session the next day on January 4, and by 7th period English, I didn't know what I was going to say.
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