I ran down the driveway and to the mailbox the same way I had been doing for the past two and a half months since I applied for the study abroad program. I had a feeling I wouldn't get accepted. Why would they want a junior in high school with mediocre grades? They were probably after the genius Asian who got straight A's and could could solve an equation before even the top scholars. But I still tried to stay positive. I kept telling myself that I would make it into the program. I would be able to study somewhere other than my drama-filled private school of only 800 kids. I would venture and make something of myself elsewhere. Chicago was becoming too mainstream for me. I wanted to be able to experience China or Chile or Spain or Australia. Wherever this program would take me, I would go. If I got in, that is...
I watched the mailman continue to make his stops down my street. I pulled out my brand new pink Motorola V3 Razr to check what time it was. 12:13. He was three minutes later t...