Extraits

I’d made it past the kitchen and into the hallway, dying to have another scratch, when he called out again. “Oh, by the way, you got a letter. Left it on your bed. Looks fancy.” He smiled at me before his head disappeared behind the fridge door.

“OK. Thanks,” I mumbled, confused. I never got mail. Who would be sending me letters? Who would be sending me fancy letters?

I softly closed the bedroom door. I couldn’t help but be suspicious as I stared at the envelope. The fact that it had arrived on my birthday was enough to make me wary. Was this it? Was this the awful thing that would happen this year? What horrible news was within? Maybe there was anthrax inside?

I lowered myself to my knees, facing the bed, and dragged the envelope to the edge of the mattress, pinching one corner. It was A4 size, and the pale gray paper was thick under my fingers. It felt expensive. My current name, Eve Blackburn, and the address were printed in the middle, and there was a logo in the top corner, BHI in a distinctive font. I flipped it, but there was no return address.

Having gleaned all I could from examining the outside, I had no choice but to open it. Taking the Band-Aid approach, I tore it open as fast as I could. Inside were several booklets printed on glossy paper, and on top a letter addressed to me. The letterhead had the same logo and an elaboration of what the letters stood for—Bradford Hills Institute.

I read through the letter twice, reading slowly the second time to make sure I didn’t miss anything or misconstrue the meaning. Bradford Hills Institute—the most exclusive educational facility in the country—was offering me a full scholarship to study any scientific field of my choosing at a tertiary level. The school year was not finished yet—I still had a few months of high school to go—but because of their unique approach to learning, they weren’t concerned with a high school diploma and wanted me to start classes as soon as possible. A spot had recently opened up, and they were offering it to me.

Apparently they had been keeping an eye on me and were impressed with my grades and my approach to study. I had no idea they had even been speaking to my teachers.

I sat on the floor and stared at the letter for several minutes. Less than half an hour ago, I’d been walking back from school thinking about how awful things always happened around my birthday, yet there I was—holding in my hands something that made me so excited I almost forgot what day it was. It was an opportunity to start yet another new life. In New York, no less!

Maybe it was my own morbid curiosity, a need to see what the universe had in store for my birthday this year, or maybe I’d simply gotten used to moving, and some subconscious, impatient part of me was nudging me to move on, but I knew I wanted to go.

After the shock wore off, I called the number at the bottom of the letter and said yes to Bradford Hills.