Sara Andrews sat reading the newspaper. She was seventeen with a thick gnarly mop of brown curls and some of the clearest blue eyes in town. There was no mistaking the familiar scowl of deep concentration on the girls face.

It had been one of the most agonizing weeks of her short life. The high school senior had finished exams not even a week ago, and after stepping into advanced courses after four years of barely scraping through at the lower levels just wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped. Easier for her than many other people, she had passed with a 65 average. Unfortunately, she was bent on going to college, it had been her mother’s dying wish last year, and that just wouldn’t cut it.

Graduation was a week away – she knew she had made it, but that was not what was bothering her – college applications had been coming back all through the month of June. Everyone in her classes had been accepted, she knew this by the happy cheers across the classroom: ‘I got in, I got in!! I’m accepted!’, but she hadn’t received one letter, and she doubted that she would.

Her closest friend, Jenni, had left on the Tuesday of that week. At least, she thought it was the Tuesday, she didn’t know Jenni was leaving, she hadn’t said anything. Jenni hadn’t shown up for school, so Sara called her house Thursday, yesterday. Jenni’s mom said she had gone away, that she was fine, but that she may not be back anytime soon. She knew she shouldn’t worry, but something in the pit of her stomach made her worry all the same.

To add to her stresses, the Villain, known only as such, had increased the intensity of his attacks around the globe. He was a young boy when he started, with a few well timed bomb threats and minor fires, but he was crafty; he hadn’t been caught, and he had gathered a large following. He had been at it for nearly ten years, and his latest attack was on the village square in the heart of Moscow, a bomb no less, and a kidnaping of the minister’s daughter.

It was far away, for sure, but the Villain had been following a single line directly North – if he continued, he could pass right through Ontario, maybe even her town. Before Moscow, it had been

The mail had come, the mailman pushing it through the rusted open slot of the old wooden shack of an apartment she shared with her father. Normally she would have left it where it lay, gone and done something else for a while, then returned as if she weren’t expecting anything special. But today was different, she trembled nervously as she picked up the pile and searched through it.

There it was: the letter from Georgian College. She opened it timidly, feeling her hopes for this hometown school fail. She read the letter. In the first two lines she knew, she would not be attending Georgian. She nodded to herself, she had known all along. Besides there was still Sir Sanford Fleming, and Canadore College. Lifelessly she flipped through the rest of the mail, flyers and bills, and tried not to mope while she made dinner.

The letter for Canadore came on the Monday: she was not rejected, but number 228 on the waiting list. Fleming offered less hope when the letter came on Wednesday: ‘We are sorry to inform you that your application has been rejected. Best wishes for the future’. Interestingly, with each letter, she felt a little more at ease, a little less turmoiled by the inner conflict of hope versus reality.

She had donned the black judges gown for her graduation ceremony. Her brown hair was straightened to reveal its natural highlights and without makeup her skin seemed to glow. There was a rap at the door and, with a final look in the mirror, she went down to meet her grandparents so they could take her to the school.

However, at the door was not her grandparents, it was a man in brown uniform, the label ‘UDS’ stitched on his shirt. He smiled brightly and said, “Hello.”

“Hello.” she answered back.

“Sign here, please.” he said, with the customary formality as he pushed an electronic signature in front of her.

Surprised, she did as she was told.

He took back the signature and handed her a thick brown envelope. Without another word, he smiled and walked back down the walkway and out the front gate.

She shut the door and put the envelope on the kitchen counter. Her grandparents arrived at that moment and they were already well on their way to being late.

The ceremony was a success: she had smiled at the right time and walked back and forth across the stage with everyone else, without tripping on the four inch stilettos she wore to make her seem average height. With her diploma tucked tightly under her arm, her grandparents dropped her off at home.

She set the diploma on the table while she peeled off the thick black gown -- the auditorium had been way too hot. She reached her hand out for the diploma, to go hang it on her wall immediately, but faltered when she saw the thick brown envelope.

Turning it over, she saw the return address was from Norway. She tore through the wax seal and tugged out the contents. There was a thick, shiny brochure, like the kind you get from schools as an advertisement, but much, much bigger. On the inside cover, a flap had been folded over creating a kind of pocket, this is where her letter was:

The University of Geschenk

Haugesund, Norway

To Sara Katherine Andrews;

With great pleasure, we invite you to attend our post-secondary institution. We are a private institution, not known to the general public, and with this offer of admission we entrust you will honour our secrecy. We are a small school located on the South-Western coast of Norway closest to the small town of Haugesund.

Complete details of your acceptance will be disclosed upon your arrival. We first ear marked you for observation as you goaltended in a game of American soccer at the age of eight clearly anticipating the ball’s movements upon every attempt to score. We were further impressed by bold assessments of a number of situations, and, while it may be inappropriate to list, your reaction to your mother’s illness and subsequent death in this past year.

Your academic transcript (of which a copy has been enclosed for your reference) although not particularly impressive, has shown us you possess the determination we look for in our students. Further, you have performed well in a number of tests we have discretely provided you with suggesting your capabilities exceed your performance.

Enclosed, please find a complete reference of our school’s policies and a student ID card. Please bring necessary school supplies and a personal wardrobe. Provided for you will be complete husbandry, school uniform and course texts. Also enclosed: a plane ticket directed for Bergen, Norway departing at 12:05 am, the first of September – should you choose to use it.

Should you choose to disregard this offer, please destroy the entire contents of this package and await further instruction.

Your first assignment will be to carry out the cover we have produced for you in order to ensure our secrecy. You will be traveling to Norway with CESO – a guidance counselor suggested it when you failed entry to a college. You will travel to a small town to help teach English to the villagers. Exterior communication is not permitted except for monthly Internet café visits and emergency contact.

Pleased to be seeing you in September,

A. Urfe

Headmistress,

University of Genschenk,

Haugesund, Norway

---

Some notes:

Geschenk means ‘present’ or ‘gift’ in many of the Germanic languages (clearly excluding English)

CESO is a really awesome organization

and UDS is not a typo... do you really think such a random school would use such a mundane delivery service, of course they have one of their own (Urfe Delivery Service, anyone?)