Almost There

- 40 -

"What is it?"

"The English department at Tipton is advertising an essay contest," he explained. "The prize is pretty amazing: an $8,000 scholarship, plus $2,000 to donate to a charitable cause of your choice."

"And you want me to read your submission?"

"What? No! I want you to enter, Tess. The contest is for juniors and seniors in high school—I couldn't enter even if I wanted to—and I think it would be great for you."

Tess laughed. She leaned back in her chair, covering her mouth with her hand. "You have got to be kidding me."

A flicker of something like concern passed over Miguel's features. He shook his head, sitting up straight and looking at her with an earnest expression. "I'm not kidding."

"I can't win some scholarship with a stupid essay about The Catcher in the Rye."

"Aha! See, you don't have all the details. It wouldn't be about The Catcher in the Rye."

"What's the topic, then?"

"I'm glad you asked." Miguel reached into his pocket and produced a folded paper, which he passed to Tess. "All the details are there."

Tess unfolded the paper with a skeptical look at Miguel, then skimmed the page; it described the requirements for entry into the Young Writers' Bright Horizons contest. It was an annual essay contest funded by a group of alumni. The outline of requirements included the deadline—late March—and the rules. The length requirement was 1,000–1,500 words, and the prompt was, "Write about an important event, person, or period in your life."

And there was more. "It says that the winning essay will be published in The Tipton Times," she said.

"Oh. That too. It's the college magazine."

"Miguel, I can't write something like this. I can barely even write my name."

"Wrong. You're a good student of English, Tess—when you have the time and the support, you do strong work. But that's besides the point. This essay contest is about telling a story. I think you'd be good at it."

She looked up from the paper, meeting his gaze again. She didn't know why, but the thought of writing a personal essay unsettled her. "I don't think I want to tell a story."

He raised his hands with a smile. "No pressure. I swear, no pressure. It just seems to me that you're a person with a lot of stories to tell. You're a really interesting girl." He held her gaze for just a moment too long in silence. Then he said, "Consider it?"

Tess laid the paper aside. "I'm not good with grammar and stuff."

Miguel grinned. "You don't have to be. I hear you have a tutor to help you out with all that boring proof-reading stuff."

"You'd do that for me? Even if it isn't for school?"

"Of course I would. I'm here to help you however I can."

And he had. Miguel had helped Tess when she'd felt like she was drowning, and he had become something like a friend, despite the weird nature of their acquaintance. Now, he was offering his time and expertise to help Tess write an essay that had nothing to do with high school and everything to do with the future she thought she'd never have—the future she'd thought she didn't deserve. Maybe turning down the opportunity to participate in the contest would be letting Miguel down.

"Okay...I'll consider it," she said. "I promise. Now: catchers. Rye. Phonies."

"All right, show me what you got." Miguel beckoned for Tess's paper, and she passed it over with a smile.

About a half an hour later, Tess's mom came back into the kitchen and leaned over to peek into the oven. Apparently satisfied that the lasagna was done, she reached for her favorite pot holder and opened the oven door. "Will you be staying for dinner tonight, Miguel?"

He smiled. "It's really kind of you to offer, Mrs. Morrison, but I have a study group tonight I can't miss."

"Will you let me send you some home?" she asked, setting the lasagna on the stove top.

"I was going to politely decline, but then you opened the oven door." He took a deep breath and sighed. "It smells so good."

Clarette smiled. "Thank you, honey."

"You don't have to ever politely decline Mom's food," Tess said. "You should know that by now. I'm pretty sure nothing in the world makes her happier than feeding people."

"You have no idea how lucky you are, Tess," said Miguel.

With a gasp, Clarette pointed her spatula at Miguel and looked at Tess. "I like him. Can we keep him?"

For some reason she couldn't quite explain, Tess's cheeks grew warm. "Mom!"

"What? I'm so unappreciated around here!" She began to slice the lasagna, portioning off a healthy serving for Miguel.