Free One Moment in Time by Lauren Barnholdt Page A

email.
    From me.
    To me.
    Before graduation, I promise to . . . do something crazy.
    I blink at the screen.
    A little frisson of anticipation runs up my spine. Why shouldn’t I do something crazy? After all, playing by the rules hasn’t gotten me anywhere.

SIX
    OF COURSE, DECIDING TO DO SOMETHING crazy and actually doing something crazy are two different things. I don’t even know how to begin to go about it. I suppose I could go parasailing or something, but that seems kind of lame. I mean, yeah, I know parasailing is technically probably really dangerous, but your odds of dying from it aren’t even that good, which definitely ruins some of the excitement.
    And besides, parasailing isn’t breaking the rules. And that’s what it feels like I should do—something that’s not allowed . I could always go out partying tonight with Celia and Paige and see what kind of trouble we could get into, but the thought of that kind of makes me want to poke my eyes out. I’d probably just end up following Celia around, making sure she doesn’t have so much to drink that she can’t walk. My role within our little group is to make sure Celiaand Paige don’t get into too much trouble—and tonight I want to be the troublemaking one.
    I glance around the beach, looking for some crazy-making inspiration. And that’s when a girl in a red-and-white-striped bikini walks by, holding a familiar-looking piece of hot-pink paper.
    The guy on the beach. The one who told me his name was Don. The one who invited me to the club where he works. A club. On the beach. It sounds dangerous and forbidden. I’ll go by myself, I decide. Not with Celia and Paige.
    I’ll dance. And do . . . whatever other things people do at clubs.
    Once I’ve made the decision, I feel a lot better. About everything—Stanford, my parents, stupid Nathan. Everything just seems . . . like it’s going to be okay somehow.
    Now I just need to find a killer outfit.
    Okay, so it definitely might be a tiny bit insane that I’m taking something so seemingly ridiculous to such an extreme level. I mean, obviously it’s normal to be disappointed about not getting into Stanford. But to suddenly decide I want to throw caution to the wind and listen to a crazy email I sent myself when I was fourteen? Yeah, it’s a little over the top.
    On the other hand, anything can happen when you feel like your life’s work has all been for nothing. I know I’m onlyseventeen. But going to Stanford is all I’ve ever wanted in my life . Seventeen years is a long time to want something. So it kind of makes sense that I’m spiraling.
    When I walk into the lobby of the hotel, my head is spinning. But it’s not the same kind of spinning it was doing before—before, I felt out of control, like I was losing my mind. Now I’m spinning in a good way, like something exciting is about to happen. It’s the same feeling you get right before you go on a roller coaster. (Not that I’ve ever been on a roller coaster—who wants to vomit all over themselves or get stuck upside down or be involved in a fatal accident caused by faulty equipment? But if I ever had been on a roller coaster, this is how I imagine it would feel.)
    I hesitate for a second at the elevator, wondering if I should go and check on Celia. But if I go to Paige and Celia’s room, they’re never going to let me leave. They’re going to ask me a million questions until they break me down.
    And I’m determined to do this. By myself.
    I get in the elevator and push the button for the second floor.
    Time to go back to my room and get ready to go to the club! What does one wear to a club? Definitely not what I’m wearing now, which is my bathing suit and cover-up. And definitely not the khaki shorts and tank tops I tend to wear in the summer. Do I have anything that’s club appropriate?
    Clubbing! I’m going