Annalise Keating

SKYLAR

The email arrives at nine forty seven a.m., and for a moment, I just stare at the subject line without opening it. "Congratulations from Walter Partners."

My hands shake as I click. We are pleased to inform you that, after careful review of your academic record and demonstrated commitment to public interest law, you have been selected for our Summer Legal Internship Program. This eight week appointment includes a stipend of twenty thousand dollars.

Oh,my fcking gosh Walter isn't just any firm. They handle cases, that make headlines.

"APRIL!" I scream her name, not caring if I'm disturbing the neighbors. "APRIL!"

She stumbles out of her room, hair messed from sleep, eyes wide with alarm. "What happened? Why are you yelling?"

I turn my phone around, pointing at the screen. "Read it right now."

She leans in, squinting without her contacts, then her expression transforms from confusion to pure joy.

"Oh my god, Sky. Oh my GOD!" She grabs me, pulling me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe. We jump around our tiny living room like maniacs, screaming and laughing until our downstairs neighbor pounds on their ceiling with what sounds like a broom handle.

"Sorry, Mr. Patterson!" April yells at the floor, then dissolves into giggles.

This is everything I've worked for. Every late night studying while other students partied, a validation in electronic form, that people like me can make it in this world that often feels designed to sideline us.

"We're celebrating," April announces, already grabbing her phone. "We're going out to that Italian place on Fourth Street, the one with the good breadsticks."

I'm already mentally calculating my bank balance, trying to figure out if we can go there without dipping into next month's rent money "April, I can't afford.."

"We can't afford not to celebrate this," she cuts me off. "This is huge, Sky we're going." she is right. Some moments demand sacrifice.

Marino's isn't fancy by any standard except ours. Red checkered tablecloths, dim lighting that hides the wear on the furniture. We arrive at seven, both of us dressed in what passes for celebration attire in our wardrobes.

"To my brilliant friend," April raises her water glass once we're seated. "The future Annalise Keating."

I clink my glass against hers. "And to having a best friend who gives me an ego boost on those days I don't believe in myself."

"Always," she says softly.

The waiter appears, a young guy with a patchy beard and tired eyes. "What can I get you ladies tonight?"

"We will start with the mozzarella sticks," I say, feeling reckless.

"I will have the fettuccine alfredo," April says.

He scribbles our orders and disappears into the kitchen.

"Tell me everything," April leans forward, her eyes bright. "When does the acceptance letter say you start?"

"The program starts in June, runs through mid August," I say, unable to keep the grin off my face. "This is going to open so many doors. Even if they don't offer me a job after graduation, having Walter on my resume means other firms will take me seriously."

"You're going to be amazing," April smiles, genuine and warm. "They are lucky to have you."

The mozzarella sticks arrive, golden and perfect, stretching cheese in long strings when we pull them apart.

"This is so good," April moans around a bite. "Why don't we come here more often?"

"Because we're broke," I laugh "But tonight, we feast like queens."

As we eat, the restaurant buzzes with conversation around us families, couples, groups of friends, all occupying their own bubbles of existence. But I notice April's has gotten quiet as she pushes her fettuccine around her plate, with a distant expression

"Hey." I touch her hand. "You okay?"

She looks up, and for a second, worry crosses her face, but then she smiles, and it disappears so fast I wonder if I imagined it.

"Yeah, of course. Just thinking about my lack of summer plans." She takes a sip of water.

"There's no shame in that," I say, even as I know how much it bothers her. April works three jobs to put herself through undergrad, takes out massive loans to pay for college, sacrifices everything to be here. The idea of spending another summer in retail while her classmates gain valuable work experience has to sting.

"I know," she says, but her voice's tight. "I'm happy for you, Sky you deserve this more than anyone."

I want to push, to ask what's really bothering her, but the waiter is returning with dessert menus, and the moment passes. We order tiramisu to share, and by the time we leave, April's smile seems more genuine.

But as we walk home through the cooling night air, I can't shake the feeling that something is weighing on her, something she is not ready to share.