waterfall occupied one wall, along with an elegant fireplace. The entire side opposite myself was constructed of windows that overlooked a patch of forest by one of the seven lakes on campus. Maybe that was the moment I made up my mind. I was going to Conserve.

That was the first in a series of trips we took down there over the course of a year. I returned for a proper prospective student day, to take the tests needed for acceptance, to show some of my extended family the school I could be attending, etcetera. Each time I set foot on campus, I became more enamored with the idea of boarding school, Conserve in particular, of course. I met people there, just in passing, but they were always so incredibly kind. I wanted to be them.

Before I knew it, Conserve was just a waiting game. All the paperwork was turned in, all the interviews were done. My mother insisted I needed a certain scholarship to be able to attend, and I knew she was right. But the more she talked about it, the more nervous I became. I had convinced myself that there was no possible way I could make it in, before long.

Then, I got home one night, and it was just there. Sitting on the countertop. My acceptance letter. I beamed like nothing else for days. For the first time I could remember, I was truly proud of my accomplishment. It didn't last long, of course, because then came the financial aid. No where near enough.

I cried that day. I remember it all to well. As I was cooking, some tears dropped into the pot. It wasn't really like me to cry, but I had come so close. I had worked so hard. It looked like it was all going to amount to nothing. That day was the first time I cried over Conserve, but it was far from the last.

I dragged myself to school for a couple of days, moping around my friends,