“I loooove you, I looove you, Get up! Walk me!” No, Rex didn’t say that—he had not miraculously regained the ability of speech overnight, but by now I was used to the daily wake-up call, the full-frontal face licking. Even as early as—I checked the clock—five a.m.?
“No way,” I said to Rex. “Unless you talk to me. Then I’ll get up.”
The dog’s tongue was hanging out, his tail going a mile a minute, but no words were forthcoming. I scrunched down in the bed and pulled the covers over my head. Then I got a text.
Who was up at this hour? Curious, I grabbed the cell phone. Regan? She never texted me, not if we were both home. Her style of communicating is barging into my room without knocking.
Of course you do. I rolled my eyes.
Please read e-mail.
Okay, that was enough to get me out of bed. Under “subject,” Regan had put Favor. Her message was, Can you check this for mistakes?
The attachment was titled Parsons School for Design, Writing Sample.
I’d almost forgotten my offer to help her, but did remember that her effort had been pretty lame, and needed a lot of work. I wasn’t intending to read it right now. I opened it only to see if she’d actually attached it.
Then I read it.
Surprise number one: This was a brand-new effort. She’d deleted her first try and started all over.
Surprise number two: She’d changed her topic. Originally, she picked the one that highlighted her selfless volunteer work training a service dog. This wasn’t that. This topic was “someone who’s had a significant influence on you.”
Whopper of a surprise: She’d chosen … me? How would this make her look good to the college? And if it didn’t … again, where had my selfish sister gone, and who is this selfless person impersonating her?
The writing was still lame, and her run-on sentences, non sequiturs, gratuitous overuse of exclamation points, “like,” and “totally” made her sound like a ditzy beauty pageant contestant. But as I read on, I realized there was something else that might outweigh her mistakes. She’d told the truth.
The person who’s had a significant influence on me is my sister, Grace, and she’s my younger sister! I think she would be surprised that I picked her, because probably I don’t show it. In our family (besides our mom) there’s only two of us and it’s like these roles were given to us when we were born. I’m the social one, the total girly girl who really cares about fashion, and what I look like is very important to me. I have a lot of friends. Grace is the smart one. She always gets As and she reads a lot and likes baseball. Some people think she should try to be more like me, but I wish I could be like her!
It’s not because she’s smarter then me, and it’s not that she’s very nice. Even though she thinks I’m superficial, she always does favors for me. It’s because she’s brave. Being brave was not something I thought affected me. But she showed me that it’s very important.
In November, our dad died. It was sad for all of us. I didn’t know what to do except continue doing what I usually do. Going to school, hanging out with my friends and designing fashions, which is my passion, and why I want to attend your school, which is the best in the world for that.
Grace stopped doing everything she used to do. She shut herself in her room and wouldn’t talk to her friends. She wasn’t worried that she could lose them, even though she doesn’t have a lot. She hardly ate. She lost weight, which most girls would be happy about, but I don’t think she cares. She stopped doing her schoolwork, and got Fs. That was maybe the worst thing because she’s naturally smart and I think she’s proud of her normal good grades.
The only activity she did was a favor for me. She took this dog that we adopted to school to learn to help disabled people. She did that, like, three times a week, even though I was supposed to do it. I was always too busy.
I kept telling her it was time to stop acting like a freak and get back to her normal life. She would answer that life would never be normal again because Dad’s not here.
I thought she was only making things harder for herself, but now I realize that she was being really brave. My sister didn’t care what other people thought of her. She didn’t try to hide her real feelings and act like things were totally okay. She was not okay. And she was okay with not being okay. Does that make sense? I think it’s brave to show how you really feel even if those feelings are downers. I couldn’t do that. I didn’t want to lose my friends or mess up my grades. I want to get into your school and that was all I thought about. I even adopted the dog because it might make me look better on my application. I know that doesn’t make me look good. But in the end, because of my sister, the world has one more dog who could one day give a disabled person a new life. I didn’t contribute so much when the dog was in training, but I’d like to contribute now. As you will see, the original designs I am now submitting serve an actual purpose for the service dog. As well as being fashion-forward, which you don’t normally see.
Design # 1: Waterproof Burberry-inspired booties, leash, and matching cone to shield a dog’s eyes in the rain.
Design # 2: Sequined reflective vests to wear at night with slim, stylish side packs.
Design #3: Denim outfits with selection of custom patches depicting peace signs, Harley-Davidson bikes, whatever the disabled person’s cause is.
If the admissions people at Parsons judged Regan by the structure, grammar, or even content of her essay, I had my work cut out for me. On the other hand, if humility and killer designs counted, she was, like, so totally in!