This state of anxiety is only worsened by the students who have already been admitted into their dream schools. For instance, Ayo Ikume letting out a shriek in the middle of calculus and then rushing off screaming, “Fuck yeah, Harvard!” was just fucking obnoxious. Her sister, who is a Harvard senior, allegedly pulled some on-campus strings and got a glimpse of the incoming-student-class list. She spotted her sister’s name in there and let her know with a discreet photo. Strings and favors.

The rest of us are all lobsters in the pot, starting to notice bubbles at the top of the water. Anyone who has any strings is pulling them now, casting Hail Marys wherever they can. Rejections across America are being released in waves.

Now Ming comes out of the subway entrance, tucking a book on Mandarin into his back pocket. He’s wearing only a light jacket tonight, considering how warm it’s been lately. Except for a couple of pitiful sprinklings of cold rain here and there, it’s looking more and more like this truly was a snowless winter for New York City. Thanks, global warming.

“I know that face.” He winces. “Any word from the Big Uptown C?”

I tilt my phone his way, displaying the “pending” on Columbia’s mobile portal. Ming pats my back as we start walking toward the Wyatt.

“Hang in there. What about McGill?”

“Design School decisions aren’t out until April.” I shrug. “That’s still a ways away.”

“Sheesh. Get it together, Canadians,” Ming says. “This is why we make so many jokes about you.”

Apart from everything Corinne and the sensory memory of Aunt Terry pinching my cheek, Montreal now feels like a tangent: some road I always knew I would never quite end up following. How does McGill compete with the Ivy League campus half a mile away that’s been etched in your brain since childhood? I could walk there with my eyes closed.

I can’t help myself and manage another refreshing of the portal on my phone as we walk. Still “pending,” which Ming notices.

“I’m excited to come over, by the way,” he says, rubbing his hands together as we get to the Wyatt. It’s a valiant attempt at a topic change, I’ll give him that. “Don’t think I don’t get the irony of having had to wait for you to date someone who lives in your building to get an invitation, pal.”

“It’s like any other building, you weirdo. Also, you’re still not seeing my place.”

“Had to try. Anyway, you are being way less Halti weird and jittery about it. This whole girlfriend thing? I hereby approve of its effects on you.”

“Is that right?” comes Corinne’s merry voice. She appears on the landing, pulling her rolling luggage behind her. “I can finally take him off probation, then.”