You’re walking down the path. The building is standing tall and proud in front of you. You have this covered. Even the bird is cheering you on. Wait! The bird is cheering you on?!? The final SAT weekend. Your final try before the college admission deadline and that one crucial letter. You have everything else under control. Your grades are beyond good; you have a great essay; community service is considerable; you even have a ton of great extracurricular activities that are bound to get you noticed. The only thing missing: those 200 points of your SAT score.
You have been through hell and back to get that score. You have done SAT prep classes during the summer and spring break. You have done and re-done the SAT preparatory book. You filled the margins with notes and tricks. You even know sections of it by heart. One night surfing the web, you fell on a blog article that tells how Adderall can help boost your SAT score by 350 points. That would be more than sufficient. It gets you thinking. After research on the subject, you find significant evidence to determine that it is indeed a reliable method. You’ve done everything else. It is your last resort. There’s no other way to go.
You contact the local pusher. You’re not used to this; you’ve never actually been in the business or contacted this kind of person. It’s really unfamiliar to you as it is usually reserved for the cool kids. He’s a shady guy, but you’ve been told multiple times that he has the good product. You text him and with a series of ungraceful messages manage to ask him for the meds. He doesn’t have any. He is fresh out due to the demand at SAT weekend.
You hear your life is shattered. Game over. That last resort is unavailable. You had set your mind to using this last measure in order to get the education of your dream. It isn’t going to happen now. All your life projects are in the gutter. The perfect life you had pictured yourself and all the experiences you were going to live at this college, they’re all in the trash.
You hear your phone ding. Can it be? It is! He has found some. As you follow his instructions to procure the meds, you see all the dead thoughts come back to life. You’ve worked hard to earn a place at this college. This drug is going to be your savior. That is it. The total and utter depression that had come over you moments before evaporates. It is washed away and filled with this fresh idea of victory. You are so close.
You wake up the next morning revitalized, still on this hype that now life was smiling back. You have gone through all the hell of public high school and this is it, your salvation. Eating your cereal, you feel the pills in your front right pocket. The two keys to happiness are concealed within your jeans. Your fate is sealed. It is irrevocable.
You’re in the parking lot. Twenty minutes to test time; it is now or never. You pop the pills. You feel them go down your throat. At this time, you feel invincible. It is time for you to shine. Walking to the building, the bird cheers you on. It’s probably just the nerves, you tell yourself. It’s nothing, you’ve worked hard to earn this. You walk in and are greeted by the hideous admission lady. This woman is a special kind of ugly. She has warts on her nose, wrinkles all over her thin fingers, her bloodshot eyes compliment the light greenish tone of her skin, and her voice has a horrible screech to it. You could swear she is a troll. Concentrate! The lady isn’t a troll and you are about to take the test of a lifetime. You hand her your ticket and go take a seat.
Your neighbor is looking at you, perplexed. Sweat starts to form on the side of your face. You feel that you’re falling and dart up to grab the table. You create a terrible ruckus. Everyone is staring at you. You nod that you are fine and regain your seat. Before the test even starts, you have finished your 1500 ml water bottle and eaten all four of your granola bars. You’re now sweating with vigor. The droplets form on your forehead and you feel them run down your entire face to you chin and soak your test booklet. Soon after, you hear gunshots fire. Most people get up and walk around. You jump to cover under your table telling your neighbor to take cover from the gunshots. He laughs, not believing that you are actually serious. The officer comes and tells you to regain your seat to finish the exam. He assures you that there was no shooter or any gunshots for that matter.
The next two hours are a huge mix of colors, emotions, sights, fantastic events, screams and creatures. You wake up in your car. The way you got there, the reason you are there and the time are a total mystery to you. A lighted sign reads: “SAT today”. Your head feels like it’s going to explode. You take your cellphone out. You have a message from the pusher. A single phrase that will haunt you all your life: “About those pills…”
Nick Legare '15