Girls with Bright Futures

by Tracy Dobmeier

  “Oh please. You’re one of the healthiest people I know. You go running five times a week.”

  “Yeah, well, so did Tom Roper. All I’m saying is we have to get our spending under control and start saving something. The last thing I want to do is take out a second mortgage to pay for college, but it’s looking more and more like that might be our only option.”

  “I’m not trying to bring financial ruin on our family, but we’re so close to the finish line,” Kelly said as she zipped up her hoodie, which she noticed was tighter than usual. “After everything we’ve sacrificed and spent already, is now really the time to pull back? With Winnie applying to UW, Krissie is—”

  “Kelly!” Kevin interrupted. “You’re not hearing me. You’ve got to go back to work. We need the money, but more than anything, it might give you some perspective. If I’d known how much EBA would change our priorities, I might not have agreed to send the kids there.” He shook his head, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “I gotta go.”

  Kevin’s indictment stung. On some level, Kelly knew she’d gotten too wrapped up in EBA, but the more she witnessed the workings of that world of privilege, the more she feared her kids would be left behind if she didn’t go pedal to the metal to make up for their family’s relative lack of resources. In the past, Kevin had taken pains to reassure Kelly that her contributions to the family were valued even though they didn’t come with a paycheck. But over the past year, he’d started hinting that maybe she should redirect some of the time and energy she devoted to volunteering at EBA to something that paid. Although he never offered to help more at home if she went back to work. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time he’d folded laundry, gone to the grocery store, fixed dinner, or cleaned the house. Who was going to do all that on top of managing the kids if she went back to work?

  For that matter, who would even hire her? The marketing skills she’d honed nearly twenty years ago were hopelessly obsolete now. Once again, Kelly reminded herself it had been her choice to give up eighty-hour workweeks—and lots of stock options—for the privilege of staying home and raising her children, which that morning had already meant cooking three different breakfasts, packing three different lunches, and driving the kids to school. Now she listened to a podcast through her AirPods as she sipped her coffee. A few minutes of hard-earned bliss before heading home to do laundry, scrub the family’s two overused toilets, and vacuum out the dryer vent. Why had she thought staying home was the better deal?

  The café was hopping. With a fleeting glance, she saw two twenty-somethings take the empty table directly behind her. She instantly recognized one of the women. It was Ms. Lawson, the most junior member of the EBA college counseling team. Thank goodness Krissie hadn’t been assigned to her; otherwise, Kelly would’ve had no choice but to sign up for IvyPlusorBust.com’s full plan, which was a whopping $15,000.

  Kelly took out her AirPods and strained to hear their conversation. She could only make out a few words here and there, but it was clear Ms. Lawson was talking about EBA. Recalling a trick Kaleb had recently played on his sisters (for which he’d been grounded), Kelly tucked her phone into her purse, which she slung over the back of her chair, grabbed her coffee, and made her way over to the other side of the café. Keeping her eyes down to avoid attracting attention, Kelly slid into a chair and popped her AirPods back in. Ms. Lawson was indeed talking about EBA, and Kelly could now hear every word thanks to a technological glitch—or miracle—that had turned her iPhone into a spyware microphone worthy of the Russian KGB.

  “I don’t know how much longer I can keep working there,” Ms. Lawson said, “especially if things don’t work out for this one girl.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh my God, I’ll have to show you her essay. It’s incredible! It’s about her and her mom. They were homeless for a while when she was little. Her mom works, like, three jobs. The girl has been working since she was twelve. She has such a fresh voice. She’s actually self-made and so authentic. She doesn’t need all the extras like tutoring, boot camps, select sports, and service learning trips to Central America that the other parents fall all over themselves to provide. She’s so different compared with the other students I work with. No sense of entitlement. She’s all grit and determination. Exactly what the elite colleges are all saying they want.”

  “She sounds amazing. How’d she end up in a snake pit like EBA?”

  Ms. Lawson chuckled. “I don’t know for sure, but it probably has something to do with Alicia Stone. Her mom works for her.”

  “The Alicia Stone?”

  “The one and only. But that’s part of the problem.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Stanford’s been this girl’s top choice forever, and last year, I made the mistake of telling her she’d be a terrific candidate and totally supported her applying early admission. In addition to the great essay, she has it all—grades, leadership, test scores. And she’ll be the first in her family to go to college.”

  Kelly’s stomach dropped. “That can’t be right,” she muttered to herself, utterly incredulous that this critical piece of information had somehow evaded her.

  “I don’t get it. What’s the problem? Is it money?”

  “Nah, I don’t think that’s the issue. Stanford is need-blind. But two weeks ago, we found out that Stanford is only taking one more student from our school because we’re already sending four athletes. So I was told in no uncertain terms to encourage her to apply early to any other school besides Stanford.”

  “Why?”

  “No one said it in quite so many words, but I think it’s because of Alicia Stone. She’s a Stanford trustee and a huge EBA donor. She made it clear to the head of school she wants her daughter to go there, but she’s kind of a screw-up. I mean, at least compared to the other girl. Please don’t ever quote me on that!”

  “Oh shut up! You know I’d never say anything,” the friend said. “Wait, so what’s your student going to do?”

  “She absolutely refuses to pick another school. She’s planning to apply to Stanford even though—you won’t believe this—she told me her mom’s afraid she’ll get fired if Alicia finds out. Says if she gets in, they’ll figure something out. I’ve got to admire her. She knows exactly what she wants. I’m twenty-eight and still have no idea. She’s been telling everyone she’s going for UW Honors to protect her mom’s job. Only the counseling office knows Stanford’s still the plan, but we’re not telling anyone anything.”

  This time, Kelly covered her mouth to stifle her outrage. The balls on Winnie and Maren. Who did they think they were, lying to everyone’s face about Winnie applying to UW Honors? And enlisting the school in their deception?

  “God, I hear all this stuff, and I’m not sure I ever want to have kids. Are all the parents this bonkers?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  As the conversation took a personal turn, Kelly yanked out her AirPods. She was boiling mad. On top of everything else, Ms. Lawson had never even once referred to Krissie as a viable candidate for the spot. If this was a two-horse race, Ms. Lawson should have been comparing Krissie to Winnie. All Brooke had was a meager academic record and a mom with millions. Though Kelly couldn’t completely discount Brooke, she still, in her heart of hearts, refused to believe Stanford would be that craven. But if Winnie really had a first-gen hook, that could be serious trouble for Krissie. If Winnie and Maren were willing to lie about applying to UW, she had to wonder: What else were they willing to lie about? To hell with EBA. To hell with this unfair process. Kelly crossed the café, scooped up her belongings, and hightailed it to her car. She had work to do.

  * * *

  Kelly clutched the steering wheel as she sped home, triaging everything she’d just heard to determine what she could use to her advantage. While fascinated to learn that Maren and Winnie had been homeless, Kelly knew such hardship would not nec
essarily benefit Winnie. Even if that nitwit counselor thought she’d written a great essay. A group of college admissions officers from several highly selective schools had conducted an essay writing workshop for EBA parents and students the previous spring. Their guidance had been clear—avoid topics involving death, disease, and disability. And whatever you do, don’t make them read another essay about a service trip to Costa Rica. They’d even pointed out that previously compelling topics, like homelessness, were now considered overdone.

  For the past several months, Kelly had taken some measure of comfort that Krissie had two hooks from Ms. Barstow’s sacred list to vault her to the front of the line, whereas Winnie had none. She’d blithely assumed the ultracompetent Maren had gone to college—probably just a crappy one she wouldn’t want to brag about. Now she had to know for sure, and there was only one way to find out.

  Kelly pulled into her driveway with three hours before school pickup. Gripped with purpose, she opened her laptop at the kitchen island. In college, Kelly had worked for the school’s daily paper. Her biggest reporting scoop had begun with an anonymous tip that the hot new student-run magazine had been faking its own letters to the editor—letters that were supposedly written by students and faculty from universities around the country. After receiving the tip, she’d figured out if she simply called the registrar’s office at each university, she could confirm whether the names on the letters actually matched those of enrolled students or alums. Unfortunately, this time, all she had to go on was that Maren had grown up somewhere in the Midwest. She gambled that Maren had stayed close to home for college and started dialing.

  It took Kelly two hours and twenty-four phone calls to discover exactly what she was looking for. That one Maren Pressley had enrolled at Indiana University eighteen years ago. Gotcha. Winnie would be precluded from leveraging the valuable first-generation college hook.

  Now she just had to figure out how to expose the lie those duplicitous Pressley girls were perpetrating on both EBA and Stanford—without it coming back to bite her.

  * * *

  As Kevin wandered into the kitchen trolling for an evening snack, Kelly pulled a pint of ice cream out of the freezer. “So I was waiting for the kids to scatter,” Kevin said, glancing back toward the family room. “I finally heard back from Steve. No dice on the recommendation letter. He said he already wrote one for Brooke Stone.”

  Kelly stopped midscoop. “Are you kidding? Alicia’s a trustee. Why would Brooke need another trustee to recommend her?”

  Kevin shrugged and sat down at the island.

  “Dammit,” Kelly said, plopping a generous helping into each bowl and pushing one toward Kevin with a spoon.

  “It’s not like a letter would have made that much of a difference.”

  “No, I know, it’s just that today I learned Winnie’s applying to Stanford after all.”

  “What happened to UW?” Kevin asked.

  “I think Winnie and Maren were lying about UW because if Alicia finds out, they’re worried Maren will lose her job.”

  “Won’t Alicia fire her if Winnie gets in?”

  “I have no idea, but that’s not the only thing she’s been lying about,” Kelly said, adding another smidge of ice cream to her bowl. “She’s also been lying to the school about having a first-generation college hook.”

  “Are you serious?” Krissie yelled as she stormed into the kitchen. “How am I supposed to compete with all these people lying and cheating their way into Stanford?”

  Kelly and Kevin exchanged looks. “What do you mean, ‘all these people’?” Kelly asked, wondering how much Krissie had heard.

  “You just said Winnie’s lying about applying to UW and lying about having a first-generation college hook. And then yesterday, Brooke skipped class and was vaping outside the window of my AP Lang class. I heard her laughing about how her mom hired a college professor to write all her essays. How am I supposed to compete with all that?” Tears streamed down Krissie’s face.

  “Alicia paid someone to write Brooke’s essays?” Kelly wondered how much that had cost. Krissie’s essays were fine, but this whole process would have been a lot less stressful if Kelly could have paid someone too. Chalk it up to another perk of being wealthy. Buy your way out of stress and right into college.

  “For starters,” Kevin said, “you can hold your head up high knowing we did everything on the up-and-up.”

  Kelly took a large bite of ice cream. Kevin’s statement had been technically true until about seven hours ago when she’d engaged in a bit of vigilante justice to punish Maren and Winnie for lying to everyone and to regain Krissie’s advantage in the Stanford competition. Specifically, she’d purchased a disposable phone and carefully crafted an anonymous text with two pieces of information about Winnie, one true and one false. She sent the text separately to Alicia, Diana, Amanda, Sarah—and herself as cover. If the plan worked as expected, her fellow EBA moms would spread the rumors far and wide, and Ted Clark would be deluged with irate parent phone calls by morning. After all, Kelly wasn’t the only EBA parent gripped by college mania.

  “That’s just great,” Krissie snapped. “But if everyone else is playing all these games, maybe we’re just the losers playing by the rules.”

  “I know you’re upset, but sacrificing your integrity is never the answer. You’re an amazing person, and Stanford would be insane not to want you over those two,” Kevin said.

  “Dad’s right, and everyone knows Brooke isn’t even in your league,” Kelly said, wiping away the tears on her daughter’s cheeks. “She barely has a 3.5, and I have it on good authority she’s taken the ACT four times.”

  “I know, so once again, the problem is Winnie. It’s always Winnie,” Krissie said, her voice rising. “All the teachers treat her like she’s so special because she’s less fortunate than everyone else. I’m so sick of it!” Krissie’s left hand flew up to the hair just behind her ear.

  “Krissie, please.” Kelly reached out to stop her. She prayed this news wouldn’t cause Krissie to start pulling out her hair again.

  Krissie slapped her mom’s hand away. “Stop it. I’m fine. I’m applying to Stanford. And I am not losing to Winnie this time.” She stomped out of the room.

  Kelly took a step to follow her, but Kevin held up his hand. “Let her go.” He dug into his ice cream.

  Kelly deliberately maintained a neutral expression. With her anonymous text already making the rounds, she figured Winnie’s plans would be toast by the end of the week. If Alicia didn’t take care of her, Kelly had no doubt the mob of mothers with kids applying to Ivy Plus schools would. And now she had new information that Brooke was cheating. If she was being honest, the thought of going after the daughter of Alicia Stone scared the crap out of her. But she didn’t have to think about that yet. After all, she couldn’t contact Stanford to report a fraudulent application that hadn’t yet been submitted. She only hoped that when the time came, she’d have the guts to use this new ammunition.

  9

  Alicia

  Aspyre was entangled in a shareholder lawsuit over the $65 million payout the board of directors granted to the founder and CEO after he was fired for sexual harassment. The suit had dragged on in the background as Alicia assumed control of the company, and its existence was a constant reminder of the precariousness of her position. To keep her job, Alicia needed the backing of the board of directors, most of whom had supported the decision to award the sleazeball the big payout in the first place. But defending the board’s decision put her personal brand of female empowerment at risk. To complicate matters, Alicia herself had paid off one of their tenants who’d accused Bryan of sexual harassment two years ago. Bryan was adamant that the woman was only a victim of her own lack of humor. Apparently, the leggy redhead hadn’t found his obviously playful offers of earned rent reductions very funny. If word ever leaked about the settlement, though, Alicia st
ood to lose everything.

  After postponing her deposition four times and buying herself another six months, the judge put his foot down. She’d been locked in a conference room all day with half a dozen lawyers. Exhausting to be sure, but at least the secret settlement never came up. While she waited for the valet to bring her car around, Alicia pulled her phone from her handbag. Her eyes popped at the notification that she had 157 unread texts, surely an all-time record for her. What was going on? She clicked on the most recent message, which was part of a group text with easily two dozen EBA moms. From the looks of it, this chain accounted for the majority of her new messages.

  Amanda: Me too!!!!!

  Peggy: Me too!!

  Kelly: I think he needs to hear from all of us.

  Holly: I’ve already left a message…

  Barbara: OMG! So ungrateful!

  Diana: This cannot stand. Ted is going to get an earful from me!

  Nora: Ted Clark needs to see this. Unacceptable!

  Ugh. How can so many women say so little? She didn’t have time to get to the bottom of yet another crisis du jour manufactured by a bunch of bored EBA moms; she had actual work to do. After dispensing with a few Aspyre messages, she clicked on a text from an unfamiliar number:

  Winnie Pressley is a liar. Her first-gen college hook is bogus. And she’s applying to every top 10 college—goal is to run the table to prove she’s the best

  Are you fucking kidding me? Adrenaline surged through her. Suddenly, it all made sense. She flipped back to the outraged moms and paged up until she confirmed that the flurry of texts she’d dismissed thirty seconds earlier as nonsense was actually about Winnie and Maren. She practically dragged the valet out of her car. As she roared out into traffic, Alicia commanded her phone to call Bryan.

  “Hey, Leesh, what’s up?”