Story #5 SAT
I still dream about that number.
2,350 out of 2,400. I didn’t take my eyes off the paper. My hands were trembling, even though I had been expecting this day for months. What if someone found out? Standing alone in my room, I turned around to check if the door was open.
I took a picture of the score and sent it to my parents. Then, I pulled out my luggage from under the bed and shoved the papers inside. I went outside the dorm and walked, thinking about how I would tell others about the score. I sat on a bench and turned on my phone, losing myself in the U.S. News College Rankings. I couldn’t decide what to feel—I was like a North Korean spy marveling at the enormous wealth of the enemy state. For hours, I stared at my phone, waiting for the message to show as “seen.”
“Yo, change of plans. I’m aiming for BU,” Yoonho said. Yoonho and I both grew up in Seoul but met at a boarding school in New Hampshire. We didn’t look alike at all—my eyes were twice as big, and he was 8 cm taller—but the teachers still called me Yoonho every other day. I didn’t mind being called the wrong name. They could’ve called me Jackie Chan if they wanted. My only hope was to disappear from that place in peace.
“Did you check the score yesterday?” Yoonho asked.
“I did. How did you do?”
“Under 2,000. I bet yours is like 2,100.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe? Did you get like 2,200 or something? Wait, are you serious? … How did you? Never mind. Dude, congrats.”
Yoonho read my face and realized I didn’t want to share the details. He had watched me struggle in “the under-2,000 Koreans club.” I could get above 2,000 on a lucky day, but above 2,300 was out of my league. He knew there was something suspicious about my gilded score. If he wanted, he could’ve questioned me until my mind cracked. But he stayed away from the truth. He didn’t even text me about it. At one point, I thought my parents had bribed him to stay quiet.
When my guidance counselor asked about my plans, I fidgeted like a freshman on the first day of school. I couldn’t figure out if my life was on the right track. Every night, I used a VPN to anonymously learn about the consequences of getting caught. There were news stories about students getting expelled and graduates losing their jobs. “The school MUST cancel his diploma,” one comment read. I re-read it as if it were meant for me.
Should I tell Yoonho about this? I thought it would be easier if I shared the truth with someone. He would understand. He had even met my parents once. I could convince him that I didn’t make the call. I was losing the one real friend I had made in school. I wished I could wake up and take one step out of the nest.
Six months later, I still wasn’t talking to Yoonho. In fact, I never discussed the score with anybody. When I got accepted to a school my parents were proud of, I acted like I made it happen. Most people didn’t care if the shy kid from Asia got into an Ivy League school. There was nothing surprising about it.
I couldn’t resist posting the acceptance letter on Instagram. “Thank you to everyone who’s supported me along the way. I’m excited to join my dream school,” the caption read. Then, I refreshed the app every three seconds. “Why didn’t you tell us? Congrats,” my cousin commented. Suddenly, I realized bragging on the Internet wasn’t the best idea. Before deleting the post, I checked the notifications one last time and saw Yoonho’s username in the list. His latest picture was also an acceptance letter from BU.