Sophie Gee

They can cut classes and go into the local shopping mall or go into Boston and just hang out.

And this has just been announced in the school.

I did not scream or hug anyone.

In fact, as the noise gained momentum, I felt its opposite, a draining of excitement.

But not a draining of tension.

My body was stiff and alert, and the impulse I had, strangely, was to weep.

Not because I was sad, but because I was not happy.

And yet, like my classmates, I'd experienced an emotional surge.

I, too, felt the need for expression.

This phenomenon, being gripped by an overwhelming wave that was clearly not the feeling of the people around me,

had also happened at a pet rally.

It made me uncomfortable because I didn't want anyone to notice that I wasn't jumping up and down or cheering.

And it also thrilled me because it made the world seem full of possibilities that could make my heart pound.

I think, looking back, that this was the single best thing about Alt, the sense of possibility.

We lived together so closely, but because it was a place of decorum and restraint, and because on top of that, we were teenagers, we hid so much.

And then in dorms and classes and on teams and at formal dinner and in advisor groups, we got shuffled and thrust together and shuffled again.

And there was always the chance that you might find out one of the pieces of hidden information.

This is why I felt excited when life was different from normal, when things happened, snow and fire drills and the times we had chapel at night.

Even song when the sky outside the stained glass windows was black.

Depending on circumstances, a wild fact could be revealed to you or you could fall desperately in love.