📔 Diary Entry – June 17
I told Maya last night.
Her eyes got wide and shiny all at once — like I'd just announced I was moving to Mars or marrying a rockstar. She blinked a few times, then tackled me in the world's tightest hug and said, "Zoey, that's so brave of you."
Brave.
It echoed in my head the whole night. I didn't feel brave, really. I felt like I was holding my breath underwater, just long enough to push the button. But Maya saw something in me I didn't, and somehow, that made it feel a little more real. A little more possible.
She said she was proud of me. She meant it.
And I think — for the first time in a long time — I'm proud of me too.
The sticky note was stuck dead center on my mirror, written in her familiar, curly handwriting:
"YOU DID A BRAVE THING. DON'T FORGET IT. 💜 — Mom"
I stood there for a second, toothbrush in hand, staring at the little square like it might start glowing. My mom had always left notes — reminders about groceries, quotes she liked, the occasional "Wear sunscreen!" scribbled before a beach day. But this one felt different. This one saw me.
I left it right there and went through the rest of my morning. Brushed my teeth. Threw my hair into a half-bun that only sort of held. Made toast I didn't really want and ate it standing up. The kitchen was quiet, except for the hum of the fridge and a single fly buzzing against the windowpane.
Somewhere between opening the fridge and realizing we were out of orange juice, I sat at the counter and opened my laptop.
I wasn't even thinking about Coastal Pines. The application was still open in a tab from the night before, buried between a half-written poem and a dumb listicle Maya had sent me at midnight.
But then I saw it — a bright yellow banner across the top of the screen:
"Congratulations. Your initial enrollment has been received. Interviews will be scheduled shortly."
I blinked. Leaned back. Stared.
It was real.
I didn't just think about doing the thing. I'd done it. And the thing had responded.
My heart was thudding now, loud and giddy in my chest. I grabbed my phone and opened my messages.
Zoey: HELP. Come over. Bring Rey. Party emergency.
Maya: It's 10:42 AM.
Zoey: Yeah and I just got into college so GET HERE.
Maya: On our way. Rey's bringing off-brand soda and a playlist.
It didn't take long.
By 11:15, Maya was kicking off her flip-flops in the entryway, carrying a bag of kettle chips, plastic cups, and a bottle of "grape soda" that looked suspiciously like carbonated cough syrup.
Rey trailed behind her, holding his speaker in one hand and a box of strawberry Pop-Tarts in the other like it was a housewarming gift.
"College queen!" Maya shouted, tossing the chips in the air like confetti. "You did it! You literally did the thing!"
"I didn't mean to do it today," I said, still hovering in disbelief. "I just opened the app and it was like — bam. Interview coming."
"Doesn't matter," Rey said, setting the speaker on the kitchen island and syncing it to his phone. "You pressed submit. That's the magic part."
"You're basically a grown-up now," Maya added. "I expect you to start paying taxes and drinking black coffee by next week."
I rolled my eyes and grabbed the Pop-Tarts. "Please. You still scream when you get junk mail."
We moved to the living room, the three of us stretched across the couch like sea lions, snacking and letting the music fill the silence we didn't need to fill ourselves. It wasn't a real party — no decorations, no playlist planning, no one but us — but somehow it felt bigger than any birthday or graduation.
Rey was scrolling through his notes app. "Okay, party games," he said. "Let's play 'Future or Fiction.' I read a life scenario, and you say if it's your future or a total lie."
Maya clapped. "I love this already."
He read the first one dramatically: "You live in a city, wear cute boots, and teach poetry to children who call you Miss Z."
I smiled. "Future."
Maya leaned in. "No hesitation?"
"I mean, maybe not the boots," I said. "But yeah. I could do that."
Rey grinned. "Miss Z. Iconic."
Later, after Maya made a dance playlist called 'College Girl Summer' and Rey accidentally spilled grape soda on the rug ("it's not a party until there's a stain"), we ended up lying on the floor staring at the ceiling fan like it held all the answers.
Maya's voice was quieter now. "This is really happening, huh?"
"Yeah," I said. "It feels… real."
"And kind of fast," Rey added. "Like we blinked and now everything's changing."
"Maybe that's how it's supposed to feel," I said.
No one spoke for a minute. The music played low — some old indie song with humming and rain sounds.
Then Maya reached for my hand. "I'm proud of you," she said. "Even if I didn't see it coming."
I squeezed her fingers. "Thanks for partying with me."
"Always," Rey said, raising his half-empty soda like a toast. "To Miss Z."
I laughed. "To whatever comes next"
📔 Diary Entry – June 17
I think I'll remember today forever.
Not because it was loud or life-changing.
But because it was soft —
sincere —
and mine.
Just us. Just now. Just real.
And that was enough.