New-student orientation began on a Monday, and the returning students wouldn’t arrive till Saturday. That gave us five days to settle in and bond with our fellow newcomers.
Monday morning, after we’d said good-bye to our parents, we all gathered in Willard Theater for the welcoming speeches. Zoë, J. D., and I sat together, but I kept a watchful eye out for Brooklyn (who I felt sure would have been accepted), and Cal (for whom I was keeping my fingers crossed).
At exactly nine—they’re always very prompt at Allbright—a woman walked out onstage. She was tall—about six feet two in her spike heels—and slim and blonde. She could have been a high-fashion model, except that she didn’t have that starved, bored look you always see in the magazines. This woman, you could tell just by looking at her, was an important person. Everything about her was elegant and serious, from her slicked-back hair to her perfect manicure and her conservative pearl-gray suit.
She wished us good morning in a deep, velvety voice that reminded me of Ingrid Bergman’s in Casablanca. After we pledged our allegiance to the enormous flag at the front of the room and sang the national anthem, we all sat down and the meeting got started.
“I am Dr. Katrina Bodempfedder,” the beautiful lady said, “headmistress at Allbright, and it’s my great pleasure to welcome you here today.” She flashed a broad smile. Even from that distance I could tell that, like Allison, she had perfectly beautiful teeth. “And what an extraordinary group of young people you are! Over the next few months, as you get to know one another better, you will discover what I already know from reading your test results: that there is enough brainpower in this room to light up Las Vegas. Your talents are varied, but there is not a single person here who is not truly, extraordinarily gifted.” She shook her head at the wonder of it.
Um, I thought. Not exactly true. I knew for an absolute, dead-solid fact that there were at least two people in the room who were not “truly, extraordinarily gifted”—and I was one of them. The other was sitting beside me, carefully folding a small square of paper torn from a corner of his orientation program into a tiny origami crane: my little brother, J. D.
I might as well get this out of the way right now. After all that testing, neither of us was accepted by the Allbright Academy. They’d only wanted Zoë.
So, naturally, you’re wondering why, if that was the case, all three of us were sitting there in Willard Theater at the opening of new-student orientation. Well, the answer is simple. As Mom had predicted, Zoë refused to go without us—and especially not without J. D.
They’re twins, after all. Though complete opposites, personality-wise, they are very close. And Zoë is incredibly loyal to the people she loves. As far as she was concerned, either we all went or we all stayed home. And she wouldn’t budge, either, no matter how hard we tried to convince her she was passing up an amazing opportunity. Finally, Mom called the school to say that Zoë had decided to decline.
That should have been the end of the story, except that Zoë must have tested off the charts in something (what, exactly, I can’t imagine—unless it was in being adorable; Zoë has never been a top student), and they wanted her desperately. So desperately, in fact, that they took us, too—all on full scholarship.
This felt kind of icky to me at first, getting into a school that hadn’t really wanted me, just because I was Zoë’s sister. But it didn’t bother J. D. in the slightest.
“Who cares how we got in?” he’d said. “It’s a cool place. We’ll all be together. Be glad about it.” I’d decided to take his advice.
Dr. Bodempfedder folded her arms on the podium and leaned into the microphone. “And how fortunate,” she continued, “that you remarkable young people have the opportunity to attend this equally remarkable school, a place where your talents will be cultivated and your aspirations can take wings.”
Zoë was drinking this in with an expression of absolute rapture. I swear, when she gets that look on her face, she practically radiates light. J. D., on the other hand, was rolling his eyes and checking his shoulders for sprouting wings. I nudged him with my elbow.
“Be nice,” I said. J. D. shrugged and went back to his origami.
“We owe enormous thanks to Dr. Linnaeus Planck and Dr. Horace Gallow, whose vision and dedication made it all possible. Both, as I’m sure you know, are recipients of the Nobel Prize—in physics and chemistry respectively—the highest honor a scientist can win. Yet I believe both Dr. Planck and Dr. Gallow would tell you that, of all they have accomplished in their illustrious careers, they are proudest of founding this school.
“Dr. Planck retired nearly twenty years ago, but he was always here on opening day to welcome the new batch of ‘wonderlings.’ Sadly, he’s not well enough to do that anymore, and we miss his wit and wisdom here at Allbright. However…”—here she smiled to indicate a change of subject to something more upbeat—“Dr. Gallow is still very much with us. He continues to serve as the president of our board of directors and titular head of school. I don’t say this just because he’s my boss”—she paused here so we could laugh—“but he is one of the brightest, most dedicated human beings I have ever met. It is an honor for me to introduce him to you this morning. Dr. Gallow!”
Everybody clapped as a handsome gray-haired man came out onto the stage, shook Dr. Bodempfedder’s hand, and took his place behind the podium.
“Good morning,” he said, adjusting the microphone and pushing his glasses up on his nose. He gazed out at us in silence for a moment, taking in our collective wonderfulness, like Midas admiring his gold. Then he smiled very broadly and got started. (In case you’re wondering, his teeth weren’t quite as nice as Dr. B’s, but they were pretty nice all the same.)
“It’s always such a thrill for me to welcome new students on opening day,” he said. “I know how much work went into bringing you here—a rigorous talent search on the part of our staff and board members, and an equally rigorous testing and admissions process for you.” (A polite titter of laughter from the students.) “And the results, as always, are spectacular. The talent here in this room, the promise of greatness to come—well, it just blows me away!”
Those adjectives were really piling up thick, I thought: talented, brilliant, smart, incredible, bright, gifted, exceptional, amazing, extraordinary, spectacular. Cheez! There was no end to it! What hope was there for somebody like me, who could more aptly be described as average, ordinary, regular, typical, or normal? I wondered if J. D. was thinking the same thing. Maybe that was the reason for the origami—to take his mind off the sea of excellence we were nearly drowning in.
“There are, of course, plenty of other fine schools in this country,” Dr. Gallow was saying. “They too attract bright students—some of them as bright as you—who will get into the top universities and professional schools, and then spend their lives working in well-paid, prestigious professions. But here at Allbright, we expect something greater from our graduates. We hope you will think beyond an easy life of wealth and success. We hope you will choose a life of service. When I look out at your young faces, I see more than just a room full of talented children. I see the future of this country.
“Today America leads the world—but it may not lead it much longer. Did you realize that forty-two nations have lower infant mortality rates than we do? We’re forty-eighth in the world in life expectancy. Our high-school students score below average, worldwide, in math, science, and problem-solving skills. How long before we join all those other great countries—Egypt, Greece, Rome, Spain, England—who once led the world and then fell behind and became irrelevant? Will China or India soon surpass us, to become the new superpower? Not if I can help it! That’s the very reason Dr. Planck and I founded this school—to find you, the best and the brightest young people in America, and prepare you to take your place in the ranks of this country’s leaders. And when the torch is passed to you, be ready, be bold, be dedicated! Our future is in your hands!”
Wild applause. J. D. tore off another tiny square and began methodically folding it into a pineapple.