TMI (2014 Collector's Dream Winner)

TMI - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Megan 

Meg strode to the mailbox at the curb. Empty again.She cursed and hurried inside.

"Meg? That you?"

"Hi, Mom. Did you get the mail?" Meg dropped her backpack near the front door and headed for the kitchen.

"Yeah, it's on the table. I have class. I'll see you later." Pauline Farrell hurried past, wet hair ruthlessly scraped back in a pony-tail, and patted Meg's cheek on the way by.

Meg rifled through the envelopes piled on the old oak kitchen table and froze.

"Mom. Wait." Her voice squeaked. "My scores. They're here." She pulled out a chair and slowly sank into it.

Pauline joined her at the second-hand kitchen table, a smile brightening her tired eyes. "Well, what are you waiting for? Open it."

Meg put her hands on the table and drew in a deep breath. For three weeks, she'd been waiting for these scores and they were here — the numbers that would determine her future. With her blood pounding in her ears, Meg opened the envelope while Pauline twisted her hands.

She scanned the numbers.

Her shoulders sagged.

She moved her hand to her chest, tried to shove in more air, but it didn't work.

"Honey, it can't be that bad. Let me see."

Meg let the slip of paper fall from her hands and shut her eyes. Pauline took the sheet and gasped.

"Meg, these are good."

Meg thought about the plan. "Not good enough."

Pauline took a chair beside Meg and pulled her hands away from her face. "Megan. A nineteen-fifty is a really great score."

Slowly, mechanically, Meg shook her head. "No, Mom. It's average. I needed to do so much better than average." Average doesn't get the scholarship money. She'd been counting on it. She'd based her entire plan on it. No scholarship — no degree. No degree — no career. No career — no financial independence.

Her dad would be so ashamed.

Pauline laughed once. "What were you expecting, honey? A perfect twenty-four hundred?"

Meg gulped back a sob. Pauline didn't get it. The plan was never anything more than just something Meg and her dad did together. It was never real to Pauline.

And now, it would never be real at all.

Pauline's smiled slipped. "Megan, look at me." She lifted Meg's chin with a calloused hand. "You're working so hard. But you're putting too much pressure on yourself. And that's my fault." Her tired eyes teared up. "A nineteen-fifty is an excellent score. It says here that's the 90th percentile — that's much better than I did, and I went to a good school."

"You're right, Mom." But in her mind, she was saying, Yeah. Such a great school and still, no degree.

"Crap, I'm late." Her mother glanced at the clock. "I'll see you later. Sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." Meg managed a tight smile and even a wave. Only after she heard the front door slam and her mother's car start did she head upstairs to her room and give in to the tears that choked her. She cried until it sapped her energy, until she had nothing left to feed the sobs. It was obvious a really good school wasn't in her future. Her scores were good enough to get in, but not good enough for a full ride. She'd need a whole new plan. She'd have to readjust, find one of the local colleges where her pathetic score might get her more financial aid. The degree is what's was important, not the school. She just had to get her degree so she could get a high-paying job and never have to —