Common App

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“Zane, did you work on the Common App today?”
Sweat exudes down my brow like tree sap,
I pause.

“Zane,” Mom screams, “DID.YOU.WORK.ON.COMMON.APP?”
“Ok, Zane,” I assure myself, “just tell Mom the truth.”
As my legs oscillate like a pendulum, I walk downstairs.

Mom glares at me like a hawk, and notices my trembling.
“Zane, stop shaking your legs.”

I take a gulp, and a deep breath.
“Mom,” I pause.

Mom glowers at me.
“I didn’t do the Common App,” I confess, as I drop to my knees.

“Why didn’t you?” Mom snaps.

I dash to my room and slam the door.
I hunch over my computer, and log onto the Common App.
Mom enters the room. My blood pressure drops, and I face my computer screen.
“Zane, are you doing work?”

“Yes,” I answer.

The tension evanesces and Mom leaves the room.

“After dinner, we will look at the Common App,” she tells me.





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