Free Admission by Jean Hanff Korelitz Page B

richly yellow and came glowing,
     vibrating, out of the dirt in unkempt piles of bales. She could see kids in the cow pasture, walking the herd back after milking,
     with three or four dogs running around them. Closer, where the volleyball game had been played, the stout woman she had seen
     in the commons seemed to be setting up for some kind of game, with goals and boundaries. This enterprise, it seemed to her,
     was not entirely logical, but it was, in some baffling way, cohesive. Even beautiful. This was, Portia felt suddenly, a beautiful
     place—an astoundingly beautiful place to spend a life, or a work life, at any rate. Whatever their oddities, the project here
     seemed tangible. Take kids, make them participate in the community, and make them think. It was Princeton’s own mission, more
     or less. Minus the ivy. And the money.
    She opened the passenger door, and the car emitted hot air. She closed her eyes, momentarily dizzy. John stood behind her,
     and there was again that awkwardness between them. She was wondering how to leave, precisely, but in the next moment a boy
     of about fourteen came rushing up to them and stopped abruptly at John’s elbow.
    “Dad,” he said.
    The boy was young but tall—gangly, teetering on long legs. He was a handsome boy with coiling black hair and deeply black
     skin and a long, sinewy neck too elongated for his wheat-colored turtleneck sweater, which hit rather lower than it was meant
     to. He glanced at Portia without expression, then focused again on John.
    “Portia,” he said, “this is my son. Nelson, can you say hello to Portia?”
    Obediently, he turned and held out his hand. It was warm and dry and rough, and she shook it.
    “Dad,” the boy said, his task dispatched, “okay if I go home with Karl? We want to do math.”
    “Math?” John said wryly. “Or computer games?”
    “First math. Then, and only if there’s time,
educational
computer games.”
    “All right,” he said. “Be responsible. I’ll come and get you on the way home.”
    “Thanks,” said Nelson. “Bye,” he said to Portia, and took off.
    John looked after him. “Of course he makes friends with the only kid at our school who has a full library of computer games.
     I’m only hoping they’re not of the blood-spattered genre, but the truth is, I’m afraid to ask.”
    “Denial is a parent’s best friend.” Portia smiled.
    “Yes. Do you have kids?”
    She shook her head quickly. “No. No kids.”
    “Well, it’s an adventure.”
    She nodded, watching his long boy climb into the backseat of a battered Volvo. “He seems like a great kid.”
    “Oh, he is. He’s happy and smart. A little lazy, but why not be lazy when you’re young? When else are you going to do it?”
    “Good point. Well, listen, thanks for having me. It was very interesting. You’ve got some very strong personalities here.
     I hope we’ll get some of them to apply.”
    “I think you might.” He smiled. “I’ll work on Jeremiah. And I wouldn’t be surprised if you got Simone, eventually. I think
     she’d do fantastically well at a place like Princeton. Despite her bluster.”
    “Maybe because of her bluster,” Portia said. “Look, if you have questions about the process, please call me. College guidance
     is such a well-oiled machine at most private schools. I don’t want your kids to miss out because this is the first year for
     you.”
    “That’s really kind of you,” he said. He looked as if he meant it. “We should have had you sooner,” he said. “And I’m so sorry
     about Deborah. I will scold her when I see her.”
    “Oh, not on my account,” Portia said, thinking that a scolding was certainly in order. “Hey, can you tell me how to get to
     the lovely Keene Best Western?”
    He could, and did. She wrote down what he said and tossed the piece of paper onto her passenger seat. Then she closed the
     car door. “Well, good-bye,” she told him, forcibly ignoring, once again, that clear