Spring renewal comes with many things—the annual Sheffield Family Lawn Game Tournament, my part-time job at the Talbot plant nursery, an inexplicable increase in dick drawings on the outside of my locker.

What I don’t expect it to bring, this year, on the day of the spring equinox, is my name being called in homeroom for the Student Advisor Program.

The Student Advisor Program is for juniors freaking out about college apps and the bored seniors who volunteer to help them. When my sister was one of those juniors last year, she formed a codependent bond in SAP with the co-captain of the golf team that basically weirded everybody out.

But me: I’m completely chill about college apps. I’m going to follow my sister to State, obviously, and if I can’t get in there I’ll probably just stay home and work for Mr. Talbot for the rest of my life. I’ve got a green thumb; it’ll be fine.

Haimes says, “Nolan Grant Sheffield,” and I straighten up in my seat, watch the other three kids in the class that apparently actually did sign up for SAP scramble out the door.