Here’s a short story that (somewhat) captures how I felt during the college application process. Hope you enjoy!

“I haven’t done enough.” I sighed, leaning my head back against a locker and holding my books against my chest. Yes, I was accomplished, but only to an extent; not enough to get into a top college. Not enough for other people to care. 

“What do you mean?” Caroline raised her eyebrows, shooting me a quizzical look. She asked, but she probably already knew what I was thinking, anyway. This was not the first time she heard this rant. 

I was a little flustered. “College apps are rolling around–” 

“Oh, I see. Same thing as usual.” She smirked. “You know, I think you’ve done a lot. And honestly, I don’t even understand what your problem is. Do you feel that you haven’t tried your best?” 

That question made me wince. I knew how to answer many questions – in chemistry, english and so forth, but I didn’t know how to answer that one. 

“I don’t know.” I started as we walked out to the courtyard for lunch. “I could have always done more, done different things–” 

“Yes, all of us could. That’s what learning and growing is. Realizing that we could’ve done different then doing so as we continue. But to what standard are you comparing yourself to?” Caroline always asked the questions I didn’t want to consider – though they constantly continued to pop up in my mind. Maybe that’s how we complemented each other. 

“I don’t know.” I admitted. What was I comparing myself to? What did I want? Caroline nodded, used to this conversation. I couldn’t answer these two new questions that started to float around in my mind, but I did know one thing: I needed more time. 

*** 

I walked into the kitchen to fix myself a snack. Or maybe it was a way to take my mind off the other thoughts swarming around in my mind. I found my mother pouring through the mountain of mail piling up on the ledge in the kitchen; she tossed the advertisements – everything ranging from expired coupons to flyers from colleges I’ve never heard of – into a separate pile. 

“Madeline, can you throw these away?” She handed me the pile. 

“Of course, Mom,” I took the pile from her outstretched hands. Yes, this is the perfect distraction.

As usual, the thoughts from today clouded my mind. I need to do better in physics, I have to finish my volunteering assignment – then there’s the college essays. No, my grades and activities aren’t good enough for what I– 

I didn’t notice the papers slipping from my grasp. They splattered into a pile on the tiled floor below me — only two feet away from the garbage can. 

“Madeline!” My mother shot me a look of disapproval. 

“Sorry, Mom,” I looked down, flustered. Squatting, I began to neatly collect the papers into a pile, My fingers ran over a glossy card that was tucked in between a pile of mail. It was gold and shiny; in bold, white calligraphy, “The Time Shop” was written. 

That’s… definitely not college mail. I saved it to the side as I threw everything else in the garbage. 

“Mom,” I gave her a curious look. “Did you see this?” I held up the card, and the light reflected off of it, making it shine brighter. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s probably just one of those useless fortune tellers looking to advertise.” She waved a dismissive hand. 

“Oh,” I read the card. Come if you would like to have more time – to pursue something you wish you did, to spend more time with a loved one. Come and buy that time. The bottom of the card showed an address; it was in the alley right across from school. “Well, I’m going to go fix myself a snack.” I tucked the card in my back pocket, knowing that my mother would never let me visit such a place. 

But what other option did I have? 

*** 

After making minimal progress on my college essay, I decided to give Caroline a phone call. Maybe she would be interested in the time shop. 

“Hey Madeline,” She answered right away. “What’s up?”

“Oh, just college essays,” I sighed. “I can’t seem to get anything good down. I mean, like, the people who go to Windsor University have all these awards… and I don’t have much at all.” Windsor had an acceptance rate below 10%; it was arguably one of the most prestigious in the nation and it was only a thirty minute drive from my home. 

It was where I truly wanted to be, as much as I didn’t want to admit it –  as much as I wanted to believe that I would be happy attending our state university…

“So we’re back to the same conversation we had this morning?” There was a hint of irritation in Caroline’s voice. 

“Sorta,” I admitted. “It’s just, maybe I should have joined the debate team. Or found a way to reach more people with my soup kitchen and volunteer tech teacher work. Or been more confident and got more things don–”

Caroline cut me off. “So, what exactly did you expect to accomplish by the time you finished high school?” 

It was again a question I didn’t have the answer to. 

“I guess… I wanted to be recognized, I wanted to know that what I was doing was worth it.” I thought about the merit, service and leadership scholarships I was rejected from; yet, peers attending elite high schools – places brimming with opportunities, unlike the dysfunctional debate and policy club which I poured my heart and soul into at my school – earned them. 

Where did I go wrong? 

“But… you’re doing so much! And you’ll continue doing much more in college, there’ll be so many more opportunities for you to do what you want to do.” I knew she was right, but why couldn’t I believe it? 

“How are your applications going?” I asked. 

“They’re… fine,” She hesitated, and let out a long, deep sigh. “I… guess I should tell you… but my father’s pancreatic cancer relapsed, so it’s just been really stressful. I haven’t worked on them much.” My mouth went dry. We were in middle school when Caroline’s father was diagnosed; whenever he was away for treatments, Caroline came over. Often, we would bake cookies; not because we were in the mood to, but because we were finding ways to pass time. How did those years just fly by? I had no worries back then… 

“I’m so sorry Caroline… really, let me know if there’s anything I can do.” We could pass time just as we used to. 

Caroline teared up. “There’s nothing we can do.” 

Her voice became softer. “It’s really aggressive now and we’re trying but… we don’t know.” 

My stomach squirmed. Caroline didn’t deserve this – she was the person I could tell anything to, the person that helped me resolve all my problems. 

Maybe she would benefit from the time shop? The thought crossed my mind, and hope rose within me. Immediately, I relayed the idea to Caroline. 

I could hear the frown in her voice. 

“Oh, I got that flashy postcard in the mail too… but did you read the fine print? ‘In order for you to receive more time, you must take it away from someone else.’ And all sorts of crazy things go on in that alley.” 

“Honestly, it’s not worth it.” She continued. “I mean, there are people with much worse problems… why would I take time from them? All we can do is hope.” 

“Yeah, all we can do is hope.” I repeated absentmindedly.  The thought of taking time away from someone else – especially from someone who needed it way more than me… like Caroline – made me shiver. There was still so much potential, and still so much time for me to continue putting my best foot forward – college is just a stepping stone to pursuing my aspirations. And I’ll make the most out of it.

I crumpled the shiny, deceiving Time Shop advertisement, watching the paper ball become smaller and smaller…