Two years later…
Nervous anticipation curled in the pit of my stomach. It felt as if I had swallowed a large, hard ball that pulled me down and shifted with every move I made. Nothing I did felt comfortable—I couldn’t sit still for long so I paced, but that only made me feel worse, so I tried lying down on my narrow bed. My room in my parents’ house seemed as if it were closing in on me, so I sat up to try to push it back. Then my stomach would hurt, and I’d stand again, trying to walk off the discomfort.
Classes had ended for me and my friends a week before. In years past, those in their eighteenth year would take a final barrage of tests during that week, and within seven days would know their future work assignments. This year we did things differently—we actually applied for position
