Clever Subterfuge

Red Balloons

It was true, she had been accepted into every university she had applied to. Even the crazy, 'how can I even dream to go there?' school. She remembered it clearly, her dream school she had no expectation of hearing good news from had written to her.

There were scholarships too, one in particular offered a full ride through her Bachelors in Biochemistry and Molecular Biology. This was it, she had a chance in this world. All that was left were the two recommendation letters to make it into the next round.

Two teachers in high school had her entire future in their hands and words. They were selected diligently after careful thought and she pursued to ask the following day.

Four weeks and the deadline was coming up and the second and final recommendation letter was still undelivered via internet. Pouting her lips and trying to smile at the small notification, she repeated the common mantra of "it'll work itself out."

Of course, it was never delivered. Despite pressing for its delivery and asking every other day and it was devastating. Sitting in the classroom and watching they gave the daily lecture and having her phone vibrate, presenting an email explaining that she qualified for the full-ride scholarship.

An outstanding student; 4.82 GPA, international baccalaureate student, two years advanced in mathematics and laboratory science. Had a novel written and had gone on scholarship to the Presidential Inauguration to meet Claes Nobel and different politicians. She was perfect, they said. A student who had dealt with personal issues and still had shining potential. She was the diamond in the rough.

But the second recommendation was never delivered.

Reading this in her high school classroom, primarily too eager to avoid the email and just like every other teenager, had read it in secret under the desk.

"Ms. Vanderburg, do you wish to read what is on your phone screen that is so important you cannot listen to the lecture?" The teacher had mentioned, her arms crossed and a slight smirk caught on her expression. Smug that she had caught another student acting as a delinquent in her advanced Theory of Knowledge class.

So she did, she read it. Word per word, and the rest of the classroom had watched as the slight smirk had transformed into a timid grimace.

"...but we hope that you will maintain to persevere towards your highest endeavors, best wishes." She paused from her phone and akin to the rest of the class that sat there, stunned. It was the second time she read the letter and she was still incapable of formulating a valid response.

Fiammetta was always one to desire to see all perspectives on a situation. This is why she had excelled in self-taught courses in psychology and sociology. She liked knowing why people acted in the fashion they did. Knowing this, she tried to fathom as to why her teacher honestly could not spend an hour on this letter. The first question she had asked was if this teacher had enough room in her schedule to do her this tremendous favor. After multiple reassurances she handed over her cluttered brag sheet that guidance counselors dispersed earlier on in the year.

But there was none. There were no excuses for this, the letter need not be fancy. Just delivered. Trying to see other perspectives only had her with the question of, "why couldn't they just be honest and say no from the beginning?"

It was funny, how the whole class had gone from looking solely at the teacher in the front, to directly at her. Quiet Fiammetta Vanderburg who had stuck to three friends throughout high school and a few other acquaintances. The girl who among twenty students in the only advanced chemistry class, had recurrently ended up the odd man out during every partnered lab experiment. The girl who never went to a school dance or football game because school was too important and she was afraid of what her father had to say about it.

She sat in the one piece desk-chair combo, fingers clenching her smartphone and eyes glued to the screen. Frozen and numb. She was so close, this was her chance.

When she was little, she had a fear of accidentally letting go of helium balloons. Watching as they loosely flew with the wind and ascended to the abyss of sky without a way back. She felt guilty, it was like being responsible for your happiness.

That balloon was a link to her temporary smile and a slip in her perspired digits meant she couldn't even grasp correctly. Despite hoping for a responsible demeanor, nothing could be done to prevent the inevitable departure of her red helium balloon. So every time she faced having to hold the string attached to said helium balloon, she tied it around her wrist.

She played it safe. She always played it safe.

In this case, she had to cautiously remove the knot around her wrist and transfer it onto another. Watch as this new person held her precious red balloon and stand paralyzed as they lifted their opposite hand holding a pair of scissors. Snap it shut and see the balloon lift higher into the air. Never to be seen or acknowledged again.

"If it makes you feel better," the teacher whispered, as if to redeem her act to some heavenly figure, "you're the first student I've ever had this happen too."