Free Personal Statement by Jason Odell Williams Page A

than pleased. She looks downright pissed. What the hell is her problem?
    “So,” the governor says, quieting the crowd, “I’m issuing a call to arms for Connecticut’s young people. A call to action.” And then he looks right into one of the TV cameras, pausing for dramatic effect. “Will you answer that call?”
    Nice.
    “All right, thank you. Thank you everyone, no more questions. We’ll see you all tomorrow.” And he’s off, disappearing up the stairs while the press shout follow-up questions, all of which he ignores.
    By the time I fight my way through the crowd and back to the governor’s office, the team is buzzing. Standing in the doorway I can see Teddy talking logistics with some IT guys, figuring out a link they can add to the official “Governor of Connecticut” website where kids can get information. Everyone else is on a phone or a laptop. Except the governor. He’s standing directly across the room looking at me. Well, looking toward me. His eyes are cast in my general direction but sort of directed at the floor so I can’t tell if he’s mid-thought, pondering something serious to say to me, or just daydreaming while his eyes happen to be looking at my feet. Before I can decide, he breaks into the slow clap.
    And everyone stops what they’re doing to look up. Look up at the governor, who is now looking directly at me. And they all join in. Two dozen people I hardly know are applauding me. I’m totally embarrassed and flushed and nervous. And proud. The governor gives me a (kind of dorky but totally sincere) thumbs-up. Then he says, “Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Alexis Gould.” More applause. Some hoots and hollers.
    “Okay, folks,” he says after a bit. “We haven’t won anything yet. Back to work.”
    A few people nearby pat me on the back and shake my hand. The governor—whose praise I crave most, not just because he’s the governor and my boss but also because he reminds me of my dad—has already moved on to other business and is fully engrossed.
    Teddy edges his way toward me, offering a congratulatory hand. “Nice work, A.J. Welcome to the show.”

RANI

    “What the fuck ?!”
    Emily is walking five paces ahead of me, storming back to her car like a woman possessed. She literally has not stopped pissing and moaning since we left the governor’s press conference.
    “What the fuck what the fuck what the FUCK?!”
    I hate when she’s like this. And it’s been getting worse the last three months.
    “He hijacked my idea, Rani. Fucking hijacked it! On national television!”
    “I think there were only local stations in there,” I say, but she doesn’t seem to hear me.
    “So instead of being appointed to the task force, like I wanted—I mean, HELL-OO?! It was my friggin’ idea in the first place, he never would have thought of something like this on his own. So shouldn’t the person who came up with the idea be the one allowed on the task force? Yes! Of course! That would be the logical thing the to do. The morally correct thing to do. But now— now I have to compete with an entire state of over-sexed half-wits dying for their fifteen minutes. Uggghh! There is no justice in the world!”
    “Yeah,” I say. “It’s a bummer.”
    Emily finally stops walking in the middle of the empty street and turns to face me. “You know what this means, right?”
    “We can go home?”
    “We’re gonna have to work ten times as hard to win those spots.”
    “Aw, man. Seriously?”
    “Otherwise,” she says, grabbing me by the shoulders and looking me dead in the eye, “no killer personal statement—and no Harvard! Are you with me?”
    I let out a long sigh. I want to tell her, No, Emily—I’m NOT with you. This is the stupidest idea since the ‘flying tank.’ I was barely with you when we left my house for Cawdor, and I was even LESS with you when you decided to crash the governor’s press conference to somehow get us appointed to their task force. How ludicrous is that