“After that I applied to a few more schools. I’ve got ten applications down. Only five more to go.”

Fifteen schools? How does she have the energy? Or the time with all her debate team wins and volunteering and apparently saving the world? Or the money? You have to pay to even apply. And if you get accepted …

“Did you apply to any UW schools?” I ask, wondering if it was, in fact, an issue with the university system.

“Of course. Madison is on the top of my list. Why?” She flips her hair.

“Only curious.” I start walking faster to the school and wave them goodbye. As much as I hate leaving her alone with Neil, just in case, I need to get to Ms. Pieper’s office stat.

“Come on in, Allison,” Ms. Pieper calls to me from inside her office.

The cinder-block walls behind her desk are covered with inspirational posters, and there’s an overstuffed floral couch that lines the opposite wall. As usual, I make myself comfortable on the couch as she sits in the red armchair next to it.

“How’s the application process going?” she asks with her usual quiet, soothing voice. “Still focused on the UW system?”

“Yes. It was going well until I decided to submit last night. My applications were immediately rejected because they say there’s an issue with my social security number.”

“Oh.” She looks surprised, which suddenly worries me. Ms. Pieper has been at this school for over twenty years. She’s had to come across every issue possible when it comes to college applications.

“I got this automatic e-mail from all three schools.” I hand her the e-mails I printed out this morning, along with a folder that has all my application information.

Ms. Pieper puts on her reading glasses as she examines the letters. She looks up and gives me a reassuring smile. “Well, let’s see what we have.”

She gets up from the chair and sits at her desk. She types into the computer for a few minutes. Her eyes go back between her computer screen and my folder, her frown lines deepening.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

She takes off her glasses and leans back in her chair. “I think I found the issue. You have a different social security number on your college applications than what we have in your school records.”

I can only nod since I’m not exactly sure what that means or how that even happened.

“Where did you get this?” She holds out my college application and points to the number I’d used.